To learn what a picture really contains, to appreciate its purpose and merit, we should study it systematically. The following topics suggest themselves:

1. The general view. 2. The details. 3. The center of interest. 4. The purpose. 5. The artists' conception and its appropriateness. 6. Elements of beauty.

As in other cases, the best way to explain a method is to apply it. Accordingly, let us study by this method the picture Down Tumbled Wheelbarrow, on page 46 of Volume One.

1. The general view. Here is a picture of a man wheeling his wife through a London street, and the breaking down of his wheelbarrow.

2. The details. The man, and his wife sitting in the wheelbarrow; the cobbled street, the sidewalk, the houses on one side of the street, the arch-way with the house above it, and the street showing through the arch-way; the man in the distance. A shop in the middle ground, with fruit and vegetables displayed outside the window. The man with the wheelbarrow is dressed in the fashion of the past, with tall hat, blue cut-a-way long-tailed coat, black breeches and blue stockings, white vest and white gloves. His neckerchief and shoes are orange color. His wife is also fashionably gowned. Her bonnet has blue and orange feathers, she has an embroidered shawl of orange color, with a blue overdress and a gray skirt; her blue parasol is in the air, dropped in the shock of the breaking of the wheelbarrow. Her arms are extended in effort to save herself. The wheel is bent under the barrow.

3. The center of interest. The center of interest of most pictures is found near the center of the picture. It is plainly so in this picture; the man with the wheelbarrow, and his bride engage our attention, while secondarily we note the rough cobbled pavement and the narrow street.

4. The purpose. The artist's intention is to show the dramatic moment when the wheelbarrow broke, and the bride got the fall.

5. The artist's conception and its appropriateness. In choosing the line "Down Tumbled Wheelbarrow," the artist selected the moment which was the climax of the adventure, and in so doing he shows the shock of surprise and alarm in the attitude and expression of both bride and groom as contrasted with their very fine holiday costumes, which show how much care they had given to their preparation for their wedding journey. The artist has not overlooked the opportunity to show us a typical London street of the olden time, narrow and paved with cobble stones. The arch-way gives us the assurance that the street was very narrow, so that the wheelbarrow had to go over the rough cobbles. The conception seems appropriate and true to the story in the simple rhyme.

6. Elements of beauty. There are two main elements in this picture, which contribute to the pleasure it gives us, aside from the story it tells. In the composition of the picture, the artist has placed the main figures in the foreground and drawn them in full detail. Note the contrast of the masses of black with the open spaces of white and light shadings. The walls of the houses are indicated by few lines which are sufficient but which do not draw the eye from the center. The rough street is skillfully indicated by a few deftly drawn round cobbles, leaving the larger white space to give air and light to the central figures. The treatment of color is the second element of beauty to be noticed. Not all the picture is colored; in this class of illustration, the white spaces have the effect of giving background to the colors, and bringing out their best values.

Another profitable study can be made on the full-page illustration that appears on page 159, in Volume Five. Questions best induce interest in a picture, but the questions should be asked systematically. The following is a model on the picture named above, Geraint hears Enid singing.

1. General view. How many men are in the picture? What do they appear to be doing? What is the building at the right?

2. Details. Who is the man on horse-back? How is he dressed? What is hanging from a chain on his breast? What is he looking at? What is the expression on his face? What is the color of his horse? Have you ever seen a bridle and a harness like these in the picture? Do you think the man loved his horse and took good care of him? Who is the man standing beside the horse? How would you describe his garments? What has he in his right hand? What is its use, and what does it signify? What does the gesture with his left hand indicate? What do you think of the building on the right? Is it new or old? What seems to be growing on the walls? What does this mean? What seems to be growing up between the stones of the pavement?

3. The center of interest. Are the men talking together? If so, why are they not looking at each other? Does the attitude and expression of the man on the horse suggest an interesting topic? (Tell the story in part, and read the lines covering this episode, page 156. Is the center of interest now made clear?)

4. Purpose. What did the artist mean to do by means of this picture? Did he select an important and interesting event in the story?

5. Conception and appropriateness. Has the artist followed the text truthfully in his conception? Do you think there is a dramatic interest in this scene, which made it appropriate for illustration? Would it have been as effective without the old man in the picture? Why? Does the man on the horse show his character in his bearing? Has the artist succeeded in portraying the old man in the character described in the text? Does the picture please you? Do you think it is a success?

6. Elements of beauty. Do you like the soft, even tones of the picture, the heavy touches of the pen in the main figures and the light touches in the background? Is the day bright or gloomy? Is the effect of light on the wall, balcony and doorway pleasing? From what direction does the light come? How does the artist indicate surfaces in shadow? Does the outline of the castle through the arch add interest and beauty to the picture?

After the children have been taught to observe properly, you have in the pictures numberless interesting subjects for language exercises. A good, clear-cut description of a picture is worth reading, and to write one means thought and study. The exercise may be varied by asking the child to describe the picture before he has any knowledge of the subject and then asking him to call his imagination into play and write a story to fit the picture. Later you may read him the story the artist meant to illustrate.

* * * * *

Besides the color plates and halftones which are found in their proper places in the several volumes, the following pen and ink drawings are good examples of the kind of pictures that best repay study:

Volume I, page 22. Volume I, page 30. Volume I, page 35. Volume I, page 67. Volume I, page 159. Volume I, page 203. Volume I, page 375. Volume I, page 391. Volume II, page 111. Volume II, page 228. Volume II, page 384. Volume III, page 141. Volume III, page 324. Volume IV, page 452. Volume V, page 97. Volume V, page 253. Volume VI, page 145. Volume VI, page 361. Volume VII, page 281. Volume VII, page 439. Volume VIII, page 160. Volume VIII, page 321. Volume IX, page 118. Volume IX, page 248.



CHAPTER IV

TELLING STORIES

Before a child can read he develops a passion for stories, and nothing delights him more than an interesting tale from the loving lips of father or mother. In good kindergartens and primary schools, there are teachers who tell stories to the little ones and do it well, but parents will not wish to delegate it entirely to teachers, for story-telling is the best way of getting at the hearts of children and planting those germs which later grow into refined taste in reading as well as ripen into real character. On the other hand, the teachers may neglect to tell stories to their pupils or are not skilled either in selection or in manner of telling. Parents who are interested in the welfare of their small boys and girls will wish to know what is being done and how it is accomplished, but may have little idea of the material it is wise to use or where to find good subjects for their tales.

Proper selection is highly important, for taste and appetite for certain kinds of literature may be created long before the child can read for himself. Strong-minded, courageous little boys will love to hear of giants and ogres, and will revel in adventures that may terrify their more delicate sisters. George hates the fierce foes that Jack the Giant-Killer meets, and dreams of the time when he can overpower and slay his own ogres. Alice listens tremblingly, and when she goes to her little bed at night lies in fear and trembling, while hideous faces leer at her from out the shadowed recesses. George never wearies of our oldest poem, Beowulf, while Alice wants only Cinderella, or at most Bluebeard. It is nothing less than cruelty to fill the imaginations of sensitive children with deeds of violence and tales of sadness and woe. Yet it is no less true that some young folks are the better for their giants, their knights and their battles. On the whole, it is wiser to keep the giants, the ogres and the suffering people in the background, or to dwell upon them only when there seems a demand for them; later, lead the young imaginations into the realms of history and real life where giants are very real and ogres yet remain to be subdued. Do not tell sad or exciting stories in the evening. Keep the quiet, peaceful things for bed-time stories.

Here, then, is the great opportunity for the parent. The teacher has thirty or more children of as many different temperaments from homes as varied in culture as the children are different in appearance, and to them she must tell her story as to one. The parent has but his own little flock, whom he has known every day of their lives, and whose souls are as transparent as glass to his watchful and sympathetic eye. How certain may he feel in his selection of material, how powerful in his recital!

Perhaps, however, he may find the pleasant task an unaccustomed one, may have forgotten what he knew as a boy, and may not know where to turn for material. Here these books come to his assistance with material for every taste and suited to every occasion. In the beginning of the first volume are the nursery rhymes which children have enjoyed for ages, which are read, or far better told, to infants who rejoice in the pictures. Between the nursery rhymes and the literature that follows is quite a gap, intentionally left by the editor. There are no pretty little tales in words of one syllable for beginners to read, but there are good fables and stories to be told while the children are learning to read, and later, to be read by the young people themselves. No parent can go astray in selection if he knows his own children.

Do not be afraid to tell the story—reading it aloud will not be half so effective. Select a fable or a short story first. Read it carefully, and then shut the book and think about it. Be sure you have the plot in your mind, make the hero and the other characters seem very real to yourself, picture the scenes vividly in your mind's eye, and you are ready to begin.

1. Use Your Own Words. Simple words, graphic, commonplace words, are the best. The older children will be just as much entertained, and the younger ones can understand better. On the other hand, do not talk down to their level; they will resent the idea and laugh at you. Keep on their level. That means that you must be sure you know your audience before you begin to talk.

2. Talk Naturally. Forget that you are telling a story for the effect it will produce. Forget yourself. Tell the story as you would tell them an incident you have just seen.

3. Look Your Children in the Eyes. Find the responsive eyes and get your inspiration from them; seek out the dull and uninterested eyes and talk to them till they brighten up and respond to your enthusiasm. Let every child know that many times you have looked him square in the face and make everyone feel you are talking straight at him.

4. Supply Many Details. Children love them; their lives are made up of little things. Don't think you are ignoring the real story by your additions. The details you give are probably the very ones the author of the original story intended you to supply from your own imagination as you read. Under this head comes the giving of names to characters; descriptions of clothes, of facts, of feelings; the addition of new incidents.

The recital of a bare plot is not an interesting story. For instance: "A boy on his way to school found a yellowbird's nest with four little birds in it," is the recitation of a bare plot. Is it interesting? Would the story appeal to children? What do you think of the form following?

"John told me an interesting story this morning. As he was coming to school today he saw a little yellowbird fly from the bushes by the big tree at the corner of Mr. Brown's yard. He parted the leaves and looked into the bush, but for quite a while he could see nothing. At last, however, he spied a pretty little nest in the fork of a limb and so low that he could look right down into it. John must have made some noise, because when he looked in he saw four little, wide-open red mouths, and that was about all. Of course, there were little half-naked bodies under the gaping mouths, but he couldn't see them, for each little bird was shaking his head about, stretching it up higher and higher and opening his mouth wider and wider. You see, to each little bird a rustling sound meant that the mother bird had come back with a bit of tasty breakfast in her mouth. When the wee babies found that they had made a mistake they closed their mouths, drew down their heads and packed themselves away so tightly that I'm sure they can't be cold while their mother is away."

5. Be Intimate and Personal with Your Audience. Express your opinion now and then as your own; interrupt the story occasionally (not often enough to spoil the interest) by asking for the ideas of the children. Let them guess, sometimes, at the outcome of the story. Make them feel that they are an important part of the exercise. Sometimes they will help you wonderfully.

6. Use Direct Discourse Wherever Possible. Make your characters speak in their own words. Say, "John said, 'I saw the nest,'" rather than, "John said that he saw the nest."

7. Keep the Climax Out of Sight as Long as Possible. Curiosity is a large factor in interest, and if the children know "how the story is coming out" you are liable to lose their attention. However, you will find that some stories will prove such favorites to young children that they will call for the tales again and again. Occasionally small children are very particular about the way in which a story is repeated—there must be no deviations from the way in which it was first told. You may congratulate yourself on having told the story well, if the children ask for its repetition; and if they criticise your second telling you may know you did very well in your first attempt.

8. Be Enthusiastic; Be Dramatic. Throw yourself into the tale; see what you are describing; feel what your characters feel, and enjoy the story itself. Speak distinctly; use clear, sympathetic tones; speak slowly or rapidly as the action demands, and use pauses effectively. Don't be in a hurry. See that your face expresses your feelings, that your attitudes are easy and your gestures appropriate and graceful. Act your part.

9. Do not Preach. Tell the story so the moral, if there is any, may be seen and felt without your striving to point it out.

10. Talk the Story Over Freely with Your Children. Try to get their ideas, rather than to give your own. You can tell whether you have succeeded and what your faults in narration have been.

The Fairies of the Caldon-Low

The difference between poetry and prose may be shown in rather a startling manner with such a selection as The Fairies of the Caldon-Low (Volume II, page 395). Children like Mary Howitt's little narrative, but what does it really say? Let us put it in plain prose and see!

"Where have you been, Mary?"

"I've been to the top of Caldon-Low to see the midsummer night."

"What did you see?"

"I saw the sunshine come down and the winds blow."

"What did you hear?"

"I heard the water-drops made and the ears of corn fill."

"Tell me everything, Mary, for you must have seen the fairies."

"Then take me on your knee, mother, and listen. Last night a hundred fairies danced on lively feet to the merry music of nine harpers, but the merriest thing was the sound of the fairy talk."

"What did you hear them say?"

"I'll tell you, but let me do it in my own way. Some rolled water down the hill and said, 'this will turn the poor old miller's wheel, and a busy man he will be by morning. There has been no rain since the first of May, and how the jolly old miller will laugh till the tears fill his eyes when he sees the water rise in the milldam.' And some seized the winds and put horns to their mouths and blew sharply. 'And there!' said they shrilly, 'the merry winds go from every horn to clear the damp mildew from the blind old widow's corn. Though she has been blind for a long time she'll be merry enough when the corn stands up stiff and strong without any mildew!' Then some brought flax seed and flung it down, saying, 'by sunrise this will be growing in the weaver's field, and how the poor lame fellow will laugh when he sees his vacant field filled with blue flax flowers in a single day.' Then a brownie with a long beard spoke, 'I have spun all the tow and I want more. I have spun a linen sheet for Mary's bed and an apron for her mother.' I couldn't help but laugh out loud, and then I was alone. On the top of Caldon-Low, the mists were cold and gray and I could see nothing but mossy stones lying about me. But as I came down I heard the jolly miller laughing and his wheel going merrily. I peeped into the widow's cornfield and, sure enough, the golden corn was free from mildew, and at the gate of the croft stood the weaver, whose eye told the good news about his flax field. Now that's all I heard and all I saw, so please make my bed, mother, for I'm as tired as I can be."

Rather a pretty story, even in plain prose, is it not? It is re-written just about as it would be told to a little child for the first time, a child interested in the good fairies who do good things for the poor and the suffering. Then a little later, when the child reads for himself he can see how much better Mary Howitt tells the story in verse. Nevertheless, some children will prefer it in prose and often may ask to have other poems "told in prose." There is no reason for refusing. Story first, poem afterward, is a good rule to follow if you want to create a taste for poetry. Sometimes just a remark, "Let us see how this sounds in poetry," will create enough interest to enable the parent to begin reading aloud to an attentive audience. Most children will not learn to like poetry if left to their own devices. It must be read aloud to them and its beauties pointed out occasionally to create a love for so artificial a thing as metrical composition.

Parents will find in the General Index at the end of this volume not only reference to the contents of Journeys by title and author, but also a classification of subject matter, so that it will be easy to find different examples of poetry,—lyric, ballad, sonnet,—and of prose,—fiction, adventure, history, etc., offering a wide range of selection for story-telling purposes.

Little Giffin of Tennessee

This little narrative poem (Volume IV, page 461), is intensely dramatic. Too abrupt in style for easy reading and filled with words the children may not understand, it is not well adapted to the very young. But there's a story in it of courage and deep patriotism that will be an inspiration to every child who can hear it. What better subject can a parent find for his son's encouragement than a tale told in his own words or read in the following?

Little Giffin of Tennessee was only a boy, only a boy of sixteen, not bigger nor stronger than Charlie, Thomas or George Jones whom you see going by to school every day. Yet he wasn't running along bareheaded carrying a bat or swinging his books by a strap. Little Giffin was a poor wounded soldier boy who had been already in eighteen battles; more than one, you see, for every year of his short life.

In the last terrible charge, a grape shot had struck him in the leg and arm and torn the flesh from his broken bones. Over him his comrades swept up to the face of the enemy's guns, and little Giffin was left to fight his battle with cold, and rain and hunger. All night long he lay moaning on the ground, and it was late in the forenoon of the next day when he was found and taken to the hospital.

There they laid his mangled body among the hundreds of others who had met with a fate as hard as his own. It was hours before the surgeons could come to him, and then so hurried were they by other calls upon them that only a hasty dressing of his poisoned wound was possible.

Some kindly visitors found him there, his fair young face flushed with the deadly fever, and begged the surgeons to do something for him.

"We can do nothing," they said. "Our hands are full. His case is hopeless. We must help where it will do some good."

"But may we take him with us? May we see what we can do for him? Perhaps we can find a doctor who can cure him."

"Take him and welcome," the surgeon replied. "But you can find no doctor who can save the dead. Little Giffin can never get well."

But the good people lifted the broken form and carried it out from the hospital's deadly air, into the golden sunshine and away to a clean little cot in a humble home where a good doctor treated him and a kind motherly nurse hung over him and soothed his feverish brain for many a weary hour. For days it seemed that every breath would be his last and for months his sufferings wrung the hearts of his friends.

But at last there came a day when he could sit up a little, and then for weeks he hobbled about, an almost helpless cripple with a rude crutch for his only support.

But his new friends had known that he would get well, for even during the days of burning fever and the weeks of weary recovery his heart had been filled with courage and his steel blue eye had glinted with a dauntless spirit that would not die.

The crippled right arm and mangled fingers were slow in healing and nearly useless when the wounds were closed and only ugly scars remained. In spite of all, though, he learned again to write, and you can imagine that the first letter, in its scraggly writing, began, "My Dearest Mother," and the next, "Dear Captain."

Mother's answer came first and brought warmth and love to the heart of the brave little cripple who dreamed now only of home—home, which he had not dared hope to see again. But then the Captain's letter came:

"Dear Giffin:

"Your letter reached me tonight. God bless you, my boy. I thought you were gone with the others. Of the eighty-five who made that fatal charge only you and I are now alive. They say that Johnston is hard pressed and needs every man——"

Little Giffin never finished reading the letter. He was up and ready to start away to the front, to his Captain and to Johnston.

"Johnston needs every man," he said, as the first tears he had shed came to his brave blue eyes. "He needs every man and I'll be some help. I'll write to you, if I'm spared. Good bye. God bless you, kindest of friends."

He was gone. Long his friends waited for word from Giffin, little Giffin of Tennessee. But there came only the news of a terrible battle with Johnston, where indeed every man was needed.

And little Giffin? Little Giffin never wrote.

But I'd rather have one loyal Giffin, in a nameless grave on a southern battle field, than all the cowardly men who would fawn around me if I were a king.

Now I'll read you a little poem which tells better than I can the story of brave little Giffin of Tennessee.

The Ballad of Agincourt

By telling the story and giving some explanation of difficult terms, we are often able to create an interest in poems that would otherwise remain unread. The best of old English ballads are so full of martial spirit that they may well prove an inspiration to many a boy in these days when war has so recently rent the whole world and proved the courage of our own young men. Back of the action that brought bloodshed and suffering is a spirit of loyalty, a genuine patriotism that is as much needed now as when it animated the souls of the British soldiery in those days of long ago. It is part of our inheritance, and may not be forgotten. It is to be hoped that we may never need it again amid the smoke and carnage of the battlefield, or in the silent horror of the trenches, but we have each for himself conflicts to wage with foes more insidious than the armed forces of rival nations, and we can win them only by the same spirit of devotion that brought victory at Agincourt. The Ballad of Agincourt (Volume V, page 95), is followed by notes that make clear its historical setting, but a few comments may help to a better appreciation of the inspirational value of the selection.

It is natural that in verses written about three hundred years ago there should be found some crudities in style, some lapses in syntax, and not a few words strange to us or having a meaning somewhat different from their present significance. Among such lapses in syntax we find the slight confusion of tenses in the first stanza, caused in the poet's mind by the necessity of making a rhyme for France, though this might have been obviated by writing "stands" for "stood" and using the present tense throughout. The necessities of rhyme troubled Drayton not a little: he must pronounce "Agincourt" as it is written to rhyme with "sort," which, by the way, is not a perfect rhyme for "fort" in the sixth stanza, and "great" does not rhyme with "seat" nor "feat"; in the seventh, "rear," "there" and "were" do not rhyme; other instances are easily found. Of words not now familiar, or used in an unfamiliar sense, the following are examples: We do not frequently speak of the wind "standing" in a certain direction; we do not often "advance" our sails nor "prove" our chance; "vaward" and "bilboes" are old words; "ding" in the sense used here has long been forgotten; of "archery" except as a sport we know nothing; "Spanish yew" is no longer valuable for bows, and few can tell how long a "clothyard" (the English ell, 45 inches long) is, or whether it differs from any other "yard" as a measure of length.

If the things just mentioned are defects they are of little moment and add to the quaintness of the verses without detracting from their force. Anyone who reads for inspiration and for his own betterment puts aside the critical spirit, places himself in the position of the writer, harmonizes thoughts and reads for the message without much concern for the medium. But there are force, action, rhythm, clearness and beauty in this old ballad. Let us see what we can find without carrying analysis to the point where it destroys the spirit. All we need is an understanding of the meaning of the sentences and an expressive reading aloud. The former, we can supply here, the latter the reader must contribute. Poetry must be read aloud to be appreciated by any but those who can listen to their thoughts and hear the words their eyes garner from the printed page. Such readers are few.

Here is the paraphrase that makes the meaning clear.

With a wind blowing straight for France the English soldiery spread their sails to try one more campaign against their ancient enemies. Crossing the open sea they landed at the mouth of the Seine river, following King Henry and his noble courtiers.

There was fighting all the way, and many a strongly garrisoned fort was taken, to the joy of all the English. Every day had its skirmish with the French, who stoutly defended the way to Agincourt where lay their commander with all his great army of fifty thousand men. Here the Frenchman sent to King Henry the sarcastic message: "You are going to your doom. Better get your ransom ready before you advance further." To this insult the English king made no answer, but an angry smile that foreshadowed the fall of his vile opponents flashed from his eyes.

Turning to his men, however, the brave king spoke: "Don't be alarmed if they do outnumber us ten to one. We have begun nobly. Battles so bravely won as these we have fought, have always been lauded to the skies. Your fame shall never die. And as for myself, this is my task. I shall not ask England to mourn for me nor to praise me. If I am not victor here, or if I am slain, never shall she be asked for one penny to redeem me. From the great battles of Poitiers and Cressy we learn that when the French were the most swollen with pride they fell beneath our swords. Our skill is none the less than that of those who fought under our great grandsire when he defeated the French and cut their national emblems to the ground."

What a battle array it was! The vanguard was led by the dread Duke of York; the king himself in the midst of his brave guards sped in the center with the main body of the troops, while the valiant rearguard was captained by Excester, courageous as any man in the great army.

And now the fight begins! Armour on armour shines; drum now to drum does groan,—to hear is wonder; that, with the cries they make, shakes the very earth; trumpet to trumpet speaks, thunder to thunder.

From the ambuscade of our hidden forces the noble Erpingham gives the signal for the English archers to fire. Now like a storm the cloth-yard-long arrows sped by the strong bows of Spanish yew strike the French horses, stinging them like serpents through the withers. Every bowman stands to his place, not one deserting; every true English heart rejoices in the slaughter.

Down go the bows when the arrows are shot, out spring the great swords, as the English fly on the French, not one laggard in the company; straight from their shoulders spring the blows that cleave the heads of the French peasants and drop them in the dust of trampling feet.

Meantime the noble king, brandishing his broad-sword, dashes along the French line as though to overwhelm it with his mighty blows, while many a wound sheds blood on his arms and many a cruel dint sinks into his helmet.

The good duke Glo'ster, next of the royal blood, fights side by side with his brave brother, and the youthful Clarence in this almost the first of his battles fights as furiously as any experienced knight; Warwick wades in blood, and Oxford adds to the cruel slaughter of the foe. Suffolk plies his axe manfully while Beaumont, Willoughby, Ferrers and Fanhope, names for the English to conjure with, bear themselves as bravely.

Herve Riel

Let us take, as a final example, Browning's poem Herve Riel (Volume VIII, page 168). We will set about the preparation of it together. First we will read the note and then the poem. * * * It is a stirring thing, a noble monument to a noble man. It is worth the telling. We will read through it again and mark the passages that contain the incidents that make the story, so that we may not have to hesitate for ideas after we begin to talk. * * * Really, the plot is more simple than we thought. It is merely this: "The French fleet, defeated by the English, arrives off the harbor of Saint Halo. They call for pilots, but none will try to conduct the big ships through the dangerous channel, and the captains decide to wreck and burn their ships, so the English may not capture them. Just at this time a simple Breton sailor offers to pilot the vessels through, under penalty of death. The commander puts him in charge of the fleet and he takes them safely into the harbor. The English arrive just too late to do any damage, and the French commander, grateful to his deliverer, offers him any reward he may wish. The Breton laughs and asks for one day's leave to go and visit his wife who lives near by."

Let us consider the persons. Evidently Herve Riel is the only one we need mention by name. We could give him a simpler name, but if the story is true, everyone ought to remember him. We must try to make him seem alive. We must make his deed seem great and must make a point of his patriotic devotion and of his beautiful love for his wife.

Now we are ready to talk, as soon as we have thought a little and assured ourselves that we are in the right spirit. So, facing our audience of small children, we begin:

I've just been reading Herve Riel, a story that I like so much I must tell it to you. A long time ago, before there was a (name your town), really before there was a United States, there was a long war across the ocean between the great nations, England and France. There had been a bloody battle between their navies, and the French had been beaten. Still twenty-two of their ships escaped, sailed to their own country and arrived outside the harbor of Saint Malo. But they were not safe, by any means. The English were close behind and could soon overtake and capture or destroy all the French vessels, and put to death many of their crews. Inside the harbor the French knew they would be safe, for no English vessel could get through the long, crooked channels without a pilot, and no Frenchman would lead the English.

Without even waiting to anchor, the captains made signals for pilots and many skilled ones came off to the ships. When the pilots heard that the French were crippled and must get into the harbor they laughed at the captains.

"Go through there now?" they said. "Why, you can't do it. Don't you see it's low tide and the rocks are showing everywhere? The channel is crooked and very dangerous at high water and now you could not get your smallest ship through safely, let alone such a large ship as the Formidable here, with her ninety-two big guns. It can't be done."

Nothing could change the minds of the pilots. They knew their business thoroughly. So the captains met to decide what they should do. The commander addressed them, saying:

"The English are at our heels. What shall we do? Do you want them to tow us all, one behind the other, back to their country to become their prizes? Not I. Better run all the ships aground, set fire to them, and escape ourselves if we can."

The brave captains all looked at their commander. Every man shut his teeth together, set his brows, and with flashing eyes said, "Speak the word; we will obey."

But the commander never gave his order! Right into the excited group stepped a man; not a captain, not even a second mate; just a plain, simple sailor who lived near Saint Malo. He had not even joined the fleet of his own will, but had been seized and carried on board long before the battle, because the navy was short of sailors. You might think he would want revenge for being taken away from his home and his fishing. Did he? At first he was too much excited to speak, but in a moment he stormed out:

"What's the matter with you pilots? Are you mad, or fools, or cowards, or have the English bought you body and soul? Don't talk to me of rock and shallow places and crooked channels! Haven't I sailed these waters for years, and don't I know every shallow place, every dangerous turn, every inch of the way? You cowards! There's a way through, I tell you."

Then Herve Riel turned to the commander and shouted, "Put me in charge of this ship, the biggest, this Formidable, and I'll steer her through. Make the others follow me closely. They'll all come safely in. Try me; I'll do it. I haven't much to offer for the chance, but if this ship so much as touches her keel on a hidden rock, you may cut off my head. Let me try, sir."

The commander replied, "We have not a second to spare. You're admiral here! Take the helm and lead us through!"

Herve Riel was as prompt as the commander, and seizing the tiller, he soon had the great ship sailing along under perfect control. She went into the narrow channel, with the great rocks high on both sides. The waves beat up angrily and the breakers threw their spray high over the decks. With eyes fixed on the channel and both hands on the helm, he guided the staunch vessel on the winding course. Time and again it seemed as though she must be wrecked, but just at the moment of greatest danger Herve Riel shifted the helm, and the stately ship moved safely on. With hearts beating high, the officers watched the wonderful deed, and the frightened sailors clung speechless to the rail. Finally, between two great rocks that seemed to block the channel completely, the ship sailed majestically into the harbor, and Herve Riel had kept his promise. Not once had the great Formidable touched her keel to a rock; not a scratch, except the battle scars, marred her fair sides.

After her, one by one, came the other ships of the squadron, till all were anchored safely in the harbor. Just as the last ship came to anchor, the English fleet, coming up in helpless anger, began to throw shells across the passage. The French, however, were out of range and could laugh at the fruitless attempts of their enemy. With one voice the captains and sailors of the rescued fleet shouted, "Herve Riel! Herve Riel! Now, let the king of France reward the man who has saved his fleet!"

And what of the brave sailor? He stood calm and quiet without a gleam of pride in his frank blue eyes. Just the same man as he was before his gallant deed, he answered the commander's call and stood before him.

"My friend," began the commander, "I can scarcely speak, but you know praise comes from the heart and not from the lips. You have saved the fleet from certain destruction and have preserved the lives of many of your countrymen. No reward is too great for you. Ask what you will and it shall be granted."

Herve Riel's blue eyes danced with merriment as he said, "Now that my work is over I would like, if I may have it, one whole day to visit my wife, whom I call 'Beautiful Aurora,' and who lives just a little way from Saint Malo. That is all I want. May I go?"

You can imagine whether or not his request was granted.

Now, do you know, that brave act was forgotten; Herve Riel was forgotten for many centuries. No monument was erected to his memory; there seemed nothing to keep the patriotic man alive in the hearts of his countrymen. But one day, not so many years ago, Robert Browning, the great English poet, heard the story, and he was so moved by the heroic deed and the quiet humor of the man, that he wrote a fine, manly poem and called it Herve Riel, so that it should remain as a monument to the patriotism and character of the simple French sailor.

If the children are older and studying history, we would give more of an idea of the place, and of the occasion and show what the effect of saving the ship really was. The poem is an excellent one, but most children do not care for it till they have heard the story and have studied the text. Then they are delighted with it and will read it again and again. It has been many years since the writer of this first read Herve Riel, but he has never wearied of it and cannot read it now without a thrill of admiration for the hero and for Browning's monument.

When you tell the story, do not try to tell it as this has been told. Use your words, select for emphasis the parts that appeal to you and give the children just the ideas that you have conceived.

Other classics that will make just as good subjects for story telling are in every volume of Journeys. The following list contains only a few of them. By adapting them to the age of the young listeners, almost any of them may be made suitable for almost any age:

Volume I, page 79. Little Red Riding Hood. Volume I, page 101. Silver Locks and the Three Bears. Volume I, page 134. The Dog in the Manger. Volume I, page 431. Baucis and Philemon. Volume I, page 456. The Story of Joseph. Volume II, page 111. The Punishment of Loki. Volume II, page 448. The Story of Esther. Volume II, page 387. What the Old Man Does Is Always Right. Volume III, page 436. Robin Hood. Volume IV, page 192. The Pine-Tree Shillings. Volume IV, page 274. David. Volume IV, page 383. The Wooden Horse. Volume V, page 130. Balin and Balan. Volume V, page 237. The Passing of Arthur. Volume VI, page 143. Ruth.



CHAPTER V

READING AND THE BUILDING OF CHARACTER

I

The influences which unite to make character are so numerous, subtle and complex that it is next to impossible to detect them or to classify them in order of importance. Not only is this true of the aggregate, but it is true of the individual. It is doubtful if any person in middle life can tell just what he is or just how he became himself. He is aware of some great influences that have exerted their power over him at certain crises in his life, but the little things which, taken together, have done more to form and fix his character are often unrecognized or undervalued. Fortunately, at this time we need to give attention to only one phase of the great question.

Character is the one important thing. Great as is the value of book education, of practical power and of good health, still greater is the importance of sound, wholesome character; and, consciously or unconsciously, intentionally or unintentionally, the teacher and the parent are incessantly at work building the characters of the young people placed in their charge. Most of us, too, are working toward right ends as conscientiously as possible. Yet often we grow faint-hearted, or are puzzled to know what we can do to help the children and how we can do it most effectively.

That the influence of reading on character is one of the most powerful is granted by every high-minded person who has written or spoken upon the subject. Really, it is not an influence, but a series of influences, wide, complex, far-reaching. The extended range of subjects, the infinite variety in style, the unlimited shades in sentiment to be found in literature make its presence influential everywhere and always. In reading there is comfort for the sorrowing, companionship for the lonely, encouragement for the downcast, entertainment for the leisurely, inspiration for the sluggish. Gentle, pervasive, almost unnoticed, yet stronger than iron bands, is the power of literature over us. We are what we read.

If such be the case, then there need be no argument concerning the importance of suitable reading matter for the young. To leave a child wholly to his own inclinations in reading is as absurd as to send him to take honey from a swarm of angry bees and not expect him to be stung. Inevitably, he will be injured, and that seriously. To supply him with honey, all that he wants, at all times and without exertion to himself, is to clog his taste and destroy his appetite. We must see that he is led to look for the sweet, taught to recognize it when he finds it, and to extract it from the comb. He will enjoy working to get it. On the other hand, he must not be sent where his reward is too difficult to find and secure, lest he become discouraged and cease to work.

School readers furnish much excellent material for reading; in the majority of schools there is furnished more or less of supplementary reading which is quite as good as that in the text-books and which will have the merit of novelty and exclusiveness. Yet, in spite of this, parents and teachers are continually finding themselves at a loss for fresh and inspiring things for special occasions. All these may be had from Journeys Through Bookland and to assist in finding them and in using them after found the following has been written.

II

Character is made up of a great variety of traits; some of the mind, some of the heart, some of the soul. That is, what we are is composed of what we know, what we feel and what we believe. In response to those things we act; we govern ourselves in respect to ourselves and in respect to others.

The grave responsibility that rests upon parents and teachers is to encourage those traits which make for noble manhood and womanhood and to correct or eradicate as far as possible those which are bad in themselves or which help to neutralize or destroy the good ones.

Much may be accomplished by correct teaching of good principles, but human nature is such that people learn even more through indirection than through instruction. By means of the study of literature the best direct instruction may be given, and wholesome lessons may be taught abundantly in that charming way which accomplishes its purpose without a recognition on the part of the readers that they are being taught. The force and persistence of a good lesson of the latter kind cannot be estimated. It may be years before it exhausts itself, and its effect may be revolutionary.

The wise instructor, though she does not make known all her plans, works systematically. That is, having learned that a child is lacking in some respect, such as a knowledge of what constitutes good character, or in certain desirable traits of character, or possesses some characteristics that should be changed, she proceeds slowly and persistently to bring about the results she desires.

III

In Journeys Through Bookland the mother will find much to assist her. The influence of nearly all the selections will be for the betterment of character, will tend to make better men and women of the children. But when she is looking for some direct help, for something to produce a certain definite result, she will study the books carefully and select the things which are most effective. To help her in her selection we have prepared the following outline. It does not contain everything of value, but it is sufficiently comprehensive for its purpose, and will save much time for anyone.

Now let us not be unwise in teaching these things. Let us be satisfied if we secure the interest of the pupils in the selection and get from them the smile of approval, the look of guilt, the slight indication of a determination to profit by the lesson. Many times we will refrain from comment lest we spoil the effect of something much finer, more inspiring than anything we can say ourselves.

The things we have chosen for their direct influence on the growing character of children will be grouped by subject in three general classes:

A. The selections in this group are calculated to set children to thinking properly about some serious subjects. While not as important as some others may be in the formation of character, they are yet of no small consequence.

1. Wisdom, ignorance, keenness, wit, etc., in some of their many phases are shown in the fables and the brief poem listed here:

The Ass in the Lion's Skin, Volume I, page 65. The Fox and the Stork, I, 73. The Fox and the Grapes, I, 135. The Bat and the Two Weasels, I, 154. The Horse and the Stag, I, 338. The Fox, the Wolf and the Horse, I, 377. The Bald Knight, I, 385. The Wolf and the Lamb, I, 455. Minerva and the Owl, II, 7. The Country Squire, VI, 474. (To ridicule ignorance but not the ignorant person is sometimes a valuable means of inciting a love for knowledge.)

2. The importance of attention to little things is inculcated in the following:

The Lion and the Mouse, Volume I, page 75. The Reaper and the Flowers, I, 410. The Daffodils, VII, 1. The Petrified Fern, VII, 77.

3. The following will help to create habits of promptness, industry and perseverance:

Time to Rise, Volume I, page 340. The Hare and the Tortoise, I, 71. The Lark and Her Young Ones, I, 131. Industry and Sloth, I, 300. Whittington and His Cat, I, 442. Tom, the Water Baby, II, 215. The Village Blacksmith, IV, 86. Bruce and the Spider, V, 314.

4. These show the sterling worth of independence and the real equality of man:

The Village Blacksmith, Volume IV, page 86. For A' That and A' That, VII, 149.

5. Courage and bravery are shown to be admirable and cowardice is made shameful in these selections:

The Boy and the Nettle, Volume I, page 65. The Mice and the Cat, I, 197.

6. The evil of conceit and overweening self-esteem may be shown emphatically by the use of such selections as these:

The Gnat and the Bull, Volume I, page 70. The Cock and the Horses, I, 146. The Pea Blossom, I, 205. The Sparrow and the Eagle, II, 8. The Milkmaid, II, 374.

7. Flattery as a vice is made to seem unworthy, and its victim ridiculous in the two selections following:

The Fox and the Crow, Volume I, page 64. The Spider and the Fly, III, 19.

B. Our character is largely made up of our feelings and emotions. Reason takes us in hand and tells us right from wrong, but we must feel before we can act. To cultivate right feeling, laudable emotions; to make one wish to do and hence will to do is perhaps the greatest function of real literature, that is the literature of beauty and of inspiration. Our collection is rich in this direction and to find material for lessons is an easy task. Yet not everyone has the time to find, classify and use everything; hence the following lists.

Before giving them, however, a word of caution is necessary. Remember that these selections are not all suitable for children of every age. Some that will delight the little children and stimulate them to enthusiastic efforts to do right, will not appeal to older ones. Moreover, the natural bent of a child's mind, the associations he has formed, his home surroundings, and his present character will all need to be considered before making choice of the subject matter. As for the manner of presentation, enough will be found in the studies in Journeys Through Bookland and in other parts of this volume safely to guide the young and inexperienced.

1. The influences of home and family are the greatest that come into the lives of most children. Love of home, of parents, of brothers and sisters, of children, are the perfectly natural things of existence. Yet often the ties are weak; not infrequently are they broken. Children drift away from the restraining and helpful influence of their parents, and families disintegrate. The results are bad. By properly teaching such selections as the following, much may be done to correct the evil and to intensify the highest, holiest emotions of mankind:

The Rock-a-by Lady, Volume I, page 94. Little Birdie, I, 142. Sleep, Baby, Sleep, I, 204. Old Gaelic Lullaby, I, 203. Lady Button-Eyes, I, 366. The First Snowfall, II, 403. Rain on the Roof, IV, 7. Pictures of Memory, IV, 127. Bernardo del Carpio, IV, 270. Rab and his Friends, VI, 99. Childhood, VI, 124. Home, Sweet Home, VI, 221. Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead, VI, 231. A Christmas Carol, VI, 244. To My Infant Son, VI, 478. The Old Oaken Bucket, VII, 11. My Old Kentucky Home, VII, 179. The Forsaken Merman, VII, 180. Tom and Maggie Tulliver, VII, 186. The Family of Michael Arout, VII, 314. On Receipt of My Mother's Picture, VII, 331. Extract from Snowbound, VII, 388. The Cotter's Saturday Night, VIII, 319. Dream Children, VIII, 335.

2. Honesty and truthfulness are cardinal virtues; they are the foundation of every strong character. Teach these selections and note their effect:

The Shepherd Boy and the Wolves, Volume I, page 92. The Falcon and the Partridge, II, 6. The Pied Piper of Hamelin, III, 384. The Cubes of Truth, VII, 406.

3. Friendliness, kindness, consideration of others, charity and love are a group of strong characteristics which are admirably shown in the following:

The Two Travelers, Volume I, page 109. Cinderella, I, 224. Baucis and Philemon, I, 431. The Snow Queen, II, 124. The King of the Golden River, II, 405. Auld Lang Syne, VI, 228. A Christmas Carol, VI, 244. Florence Nightingale, IX, 13.

4. Generosity is admirable; selfishness is despicable. Prove the facts by these:

The Two Travelers, Volume I, page 109. The Two Travelers and the Oyster, I, 111. The Cat and the Chestnuts, I, 142. Baucis and Philemon, I, 431.

5. Kindness to animals is next to kindness and sympathy for human beings. It is best inculcated by teaching the beauty and loveliness of animals, their value to man and their dependence upon him. The following will help:

The Boys and the Frogs, Volume I, page 63. The Brown Thrush, I, 147. Mercy to Animals, I, 413. The Ugly Duckling, I, 414. Tom, the Water Baby, II, 215. Who Stole the Bird's Nest? II, 399. A Dog of Flanders, IV, 93. Rab and His Friends, VI, 99. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, VII, 29.

6. Patience and gentleness seem charming in these selections:

The Wind and the Sun, Volume I, page 95. Cinderella, I, 224. Rab and His Friends, VI, 99.

7. Faithfulness is a virtue. We admire it in:

Something, Volume I, page 395. Whittington and His Cat, I, 442. The Mirror of Matsuyana, II, 36. The Snow Queen, II, 124. Casabianca, VIII, 313.

8. That envy and covetousness are unpleasing and unprofitable are shown by these:

The Dog and His Shadow, Volume I, page 63. The Frog Who Wished to Be as Big as an Ox, I, 66. The Golden Touch, II, 43.

9. Contentment, peacefulness, hopefulness are made very attractive in the following:

The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse, Volume I, page 199. The Pea Blossom, I, 205. The Flax, I, 378. The Discontented Stone Cutter, II, 12. The Fir Tree, II, 68. The Blind Lassie, VI, 120. Pippa Passes, IX, 293.

C. We have grouped together here two classes of selections which inculcate patriotism or devotion to one's fatherland and devotion to God. How admirable the selections are! You have only to read them to see:

1. Patriotism:

Holger Danske, Volume II, 377. Incident of the French Camp, IV, 174. The American Flag, V, 396. Battle Hymn of the Republic, V, 399. Stonewall Jackson's Way, V, 400. Horatius, VI, 1. Bannockburn, VII, 15. Breathes There The Man, VII, 151. How Sleep the Brave, VII, 151. Make Way for Liberty, VII, 172. The Old Continentals, VII, 175. America, VIII, 60. The Battle of Thermopylae, VIII, 81. The Fall of the Alamo, VIII, 141. Herve Riel, VIII, 168. The Battle of Trafalgar, VIII, 284. The Gettysburg Address, IX, 321.

2. Suitable selections under this topic are difficult for teachers to find, owing to the objection there is against religious teaching in the public schools. Parents have greater liberty of selection. The following are beautiful and seem wholly unobjectionable:

A Thought, Volume I, page 66. The First Snowfall, II, 403. Nearer Home, IV, 126. Stonewall Jackson's Way, V, 400. The Rainbow, VI, 91. A Child's Thought of God, VII, 418.

Who Stole the Bird's Nest?

The obvious purpose of these verses (Volume II, page 399), is to create a love for birds by making things appear uncomfortable for the boy who steals their nests. Perhaps the lesson is too obvious. The people who never steal nests and who always treat birds lovingly will approve of the verses, but the boy to be reached is the one who does destroy nests and frightens or kills their owners or the boy who is liable to be led to do such things. Such a child may have no interest in the verses, may laugh at the sentiment, even if he can be induced to read or listen to the rhymes. Sometimes interest can be created and good effects produced by making prominent every feature except the moral. This can be made into a little play or dialogue with the following characters:

The Yellow-breast The Cow The Dog The Bobolink The Sheep The Crow The Hen A Bird Mary Green Alice Neal The Little Boy

Unfortunately, there is only one boy character and he is any boy, in fact almost every boy, at some time in his life. But he is so ashamed that he doesn't speak, not even to give his name. Suppose, then, we don't mention him at all. Just leave him off the list. If he isn't mentioned and is in the audience, he'll remember what he has done and feel ashamed and go home and perhaps hide behind the bed and resolve never to steal another nest. Yes, we are inclined to agree with you that the poem might be better if there were no last stanza. So the little drama, in outline, is something like this.

The Yellow-breast. Who stole my nest and the four eggs I laid?

The Cow. I didn't take your nest. I wouldn't do such a thing. I gave you a wisp of hay.

The Yellow-breast. Who stole my nest? Bobolink, who do you think stole my nest from the plum tree?

The Dog. (Interrupting). I didn't; I wouldn't be so mean. I gave my hairs to make the nest.

The Yellow-breast. Now listen to me. Who stole my nest, Bobolink?

The Bobolink. Yes, who stole the Yellow-breast's pretty nest?

The Sheep. Not I. I wouldn't treat a bird so. I gave my wool to line the nest.

The Yellow-breast. Who stole my nest, I say?

The Bobolink. Who stole her nest?

The Crow. I should like to know the thief. Who was it?

The Hen. Don't ask me. The chicks and I each gave a feather and she used them. We would be ashamed to intrude on her.

A Bird. Let's all make a stir and find out who it is. Then we'll cry "For shame!" together.

Mary Green. I wouldn't rob a bird. I never heard anything so mean.

Alice Neal. It is very cruel. I wonder if the thief knew how sad the Yellow-breast would feel.

* * * * *

Boys do not steal nests because they are mean and want to give pain. They admire the pretty eggs, they like the skilfully built nests, and they do not realize that anything suffers real pain. That is a lesson they must be taught. Can you teach kindness by cruelty? Is it not rather cruel to say right out before Mary Green and Alice Neal and the other girls that the boy was so ashamed he hung his head, hid behind the bed and wouldn't tell his name?

Lead, Kindly Light

NOTE.—John Henry Newman, the author of this beautiful poem (Volume V, page 110), was born in London in 1801. He entered Oxford before he was sixteen and achieved the highest distinction in his college course. He entered the Church of England and became noted for his wonderful sermons. After some years of prominence in his calling, he was convinced that his belief was wrong, and in 1845 he entered the Roman Catholic Church. In 1879 he was created cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. but he continued to reside in England, where he died in 1890. Besides his great influence as a spiritual thinker, Newman's writings and sermons were characterized by a forcible and elevated style and by remarkably melodious utterance. Lead, Kindly Light shows these traits.

Some words and phrases in the hymn may be made clearer by explanation: "Kindly Light."—"The light shall shine upon thy ways." (Job xxii, 28.) "The Lord is my light and my salvation." (Psalms xxvii, 1.) "The Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended." (Isaiah lx, 20.)

In the Bible there are many other instances besides those just given in which there is a figurative use of the word light. It is a natural and beautiful figure. A person in doubt intellectually or spiritually looks upon himself as in darkness, and light to him is an intellectual or spiritual awakening. The light that came to the poet was a kindly light; it removed his doubts and comforted him.

"Garish day." The dazzling or glaring day.

"Moor and fen." While these words seem new and unusual to us, we must remember that in England they are as common as the terms marsh and swamp are with us.

"Those angel faces smile," etc. The subject of this clause is faces, and the verb is smile.

Children will love this hymn though they cannot appreciate its full significance till maturer years have brought with them the deeper experiences of life. Still they should know and love the poem and may be led to a partial understanding of its beauty in sentiment by means of interpretation carried not too far. By comment and reading somewhat in the following manner may the most be accomplished:

1. The poet had reached mature years and had felt the oppressing influence of questioning and doubt, but had reached a sublime faith in the power and love of God. He still feels, however, the need of the personal care and guidance of the Almighty, and asks that it may continue through life. So we may imagine him in one of those thoughtful moments which come to every one, musing thus: Darkness and night surround me with their encircling gloom, and I feel that years must pass before I reach my heavenly home, so—

Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead thou me on;

While he no longer doubts the care and protection of God, yet he feels that his own strength is not sufficient; that he may err and stumble in the path he has chosen. He does not ask that all should be clear, nor that he should see the long course of his life, but is content to pray—

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me.

2. After this invocation and prayer, his thoughts turn back into the past, and he remembers that in youth he had not this divine faith, nor did he wish to place his reliance in God. He preferred to lay out his own course and to plan his life far into the future, without the feeling of dependence that now rules him. So he sings:

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou Shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path, but now Lead thou me on;

He remembers that then he loved display and ostentation and was proud, wilful and self-confident; nevertheless, there were times when for a moment he feared, but in spite of that timidity, he went on in his masterful way:

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will:

The thought of his self-complacency, his pride and arrogance brings out the plea, the supplication, "remember not past years."



3. He remembers that through all his rebellions he has been surrounded by the power and goodness of God, who has led him through all his devious paths, and the feeling comes that the same protecting influence will surround him till doubt is swept aside.

So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone.

He is confident, too, that the same power will lead him through the dark night of doubt till the angels of love and faith, in whom he once trusted but whom he has doubted for a time, will come about him and smile their welcome to the light:

And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost the while.

Poor Richard's Almanac

It is doubtful if Journeys Through Bookland contains any other selection so full of meat as this extract (Volume VI, page 407) from the writings of Benjamin Franklin; in fact, it is so full of wisdom on so many homely subjects and contains so much practical advice that no one can master it in a single reading.

It is condensed to the utmost limit and every sentence should be weighed and considered. The wise maxims and old saws need to be expanded in thought, illustrated by example and applied to the reader's personal experience.

As a whole it is not particularly attractive to young people, but every child can be attracted to parts of it. A little of it to-day, more of it next week, a third part some time in the future, and in time the whole will be assimilated.

If the truths in this one selection are thoroughly embedded in the mind of a boy, if the traits of character here taught are made a part of him, he will be a sound man of business, a sensible head of a family and a valuable citizen in a community.

Poor Richard's Almanac contains the religion of work, of economy, of prosperity. It is a manly doctrine, a clear-cut, respectable philosophy, a reasonable rule of business activity. Never more than today were the precepts needed. The whole tendency of our modern activities is against its precepts. Disaster and ruin may be seen on every hand and traced directly to the neglect or violation of those sound principles which the wise old Franklin put in such homely words.

These maxims of life and policy are not those which it is the special province of the school to teach. They are the elementary law which a boy or girl must learn in his home and see exemplified therein if they are ever to become a practical part of life's equipment.

The wisdom of the Almanac is the wisdom of practical experience, the wisdom of those who have lived and worked, who have lost and won. It does not deal with the finer phases of character, but with those practical things which lead to a bread-and-butter success.

A boy who knows what Poor Richard teaches and follows his precepts will be a business success. If a parent can grind into the character of his child these lessons of industry, simplicity, temperance and frugality he will have left a legacy more valuable a thousand times than the wealth he may have amassed, although that is reckoned by the millions.

Because of the extreme condensation of the address by Father Abraham, the following outlines have been made to enable a parent to find easily what is wanted and to present it attractively. The selection is one of those which children will not master by themselves, but one which the parent can easily make interesting if he will follow the plans given below.

Analysis

I. (Page 409.) Taxes are heavy, but we are taxed: 1. Twice as much by our Idleness. 2. Three times as much by our Pride. 3. Four times as much by our Folly.

II. Idleness and Industry. (pages 409, 411.) 1. Time wasted in doing nothing (page 409), sloth.

(In this connection see fable, Industry and Sloth, Volume I, page 300. Consult index in this volume).

2. Time wasted in sleep (page 410). 3. Time wasted in wishing and hoping (page 411). 4. Industry lost by putting off till tomorrow (page 412). 5. Steadiness in industry wins (page 412).

III. Folly. (pages 414-416). 1. Of trusting to others (page 414). 2. Of neglect of small matters (page 414). 3. Of extravagance and the sensibleness of frugality (page 414). 4. Of vice (page 415). 5. Of high living (page 415). 6. Of purchasing unnecessary things (page 415). 7. Of luxury (page 416).

IV. Pride. (page 417). 1. Of dress (page 417). 2. In table luxuries (page 417). 3. Of appearance (page 417).

V. The Madness of Debt. (pages 417-420). 1. Brings shame (page 417). 2. Causes lying (page 418). 3. Destroys virtue (page 418). 4. Brings slavery (page 419). 5. Prevents success (page 420).

VI. Ask for the Blessing of Heaven (page 420).

VII. Accept Counsel. Do not wait for Experience.

Following the arrangement of the analysis above we may group a series of typical maxims, each of which can be made the basis of one of those little fireside talks which bear so prominent a part in the recollection of every man and woman who had the blessing to be brought up in a real home where father and mother joined in a sincere effort to bring up their children to honest, earnest, successful maturity.

I. "We are taxed twice as much by our Idleness, three times as much by our Pride and four times as much by our Folly."

II. Idleness and Industry. 1. "Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears; while the used key is always bright." 2. "The sleeping fox catches no poultry." 3. "He that lives on hope will die fasting." 4. "Industry need not wish." 5. "Have you somewhat to do tomorrow? Do it today." 6. "Three removes are as bad as a fire."

III. Folly. 1. "If you would have a faithful servant and one that you like, serve yourself." 2. "For want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; for want of a horse the rider was lost." 3. "A fat kitchen makes a lean will." 4. "What maintains one vice would bring up two children." 5. "Who dainties love shall beggars prove." 6. "At a great pennyworth pause awhile." 7. "Silks and satins, scarlets and velvets put out the kitchen fire."

IV. Pride. 1. "Fond pride of dress is, sure, a very curse. Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse." 2. "Pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty and supped with infamy." 3. "What is a butterfly? At best He's but a caterpillar drest."

V. The Madness of Debt. 1. "You will be ashamed to see your creditor." 2. "Lying rides upon debt's back." 3. "It's hard for an empty bag to stand upright." 4. "Creditors have better memories than debtors." 5. "Those have short Lent who owe money to be paid at Easter."

VI. "Job suffered and was afterward prosperous."

VII. "They that won't be counselled can't be helped." "If you will not hear reason, she'll surely rap your knuckles."



CHAPTER VI

FATHER AND SON

Properly enough, the responsibility for health and development of young children rests upon the mother, and in most families this care remains with her till the children are able to look out for themselves. However, upon the father devolves more responsibility than the mere providing for the daily need of his children. Especially is it true that the boys of a family need the personal influence of the father fully as much as that of the mother. However patient, wise and devoted a mother may be, there comes a time in every boy's life when he ought to be under the influence and subject to the control of a man. Every boy looks to men for his models and for a time follows them blindly, in spite of the most careful training a mother can give. Curiously enough it is often to a man other than his father that the boy looks for advice and direction. It is some other man who influences his thought and through his thought his actions and the development of his character. Even when the relations between father and son are of the closest the boy begins to look around him and often, for no other reason than the novelty of the influence, he falls under the tutelage of another to whom he gives a confidence that his father could never secure. As they enter the period of adolescence, boys will often talk on many subjects with strangers with a freedom that parents, especially fathers, can never hope to see equalled unless the most perfect confidence has existed from the earliest childhood. Those who have taught for many years and who have had growing boys in their charge know how true this fact is and try to make it of service by seeing that someone of strong character shall be at hand for the boys to lean upon. They are impressionable, these men in embryo, and will go to such lengths for persons they happen to admire and who have secured their confidence, that those who know tremble when they find evil or trifling influences gathering about their charges.

Unfortunately in too many cases the parents fail to realize the importance of this change of relationship and allow children to drift without any effort to stem the tide that is bearing their progeny away. Fathers are particularly blind. One would think that they would remember how it was with themselves in their youth and be guided accordingly. But as a matter of fact a large majority of the fathers of the land have forgotten the perils of their own boyhoods; they look upon their own sons as proof against the temptations they weathered, or as being exempt because of their better position in life. If these same fathers would only consider that the temptations come from within and are inseparable from our race and from the age of the children they would regard with the greatest concern every influence that is brought to bear upon their rapidly developing boys.

This is no light matter we are discussing and is one that ought to be considered seriously by every father. Every teacher, every psychologist knows that the time comes when a man must lead the changing youth. Who shall do it? Obviously the father. No man can put aside his responsibilities in this matter nor can he delegate it to the mother. She may be the one big factor in the development of her boy's character and yet there is one time when all her carefully laid plans may go awry, when for a little while her restraining influence is powerless to save. No father can, in fairness to the children he has brought into the world, say that when he has made the home and furnished it, when he has fed and clothed his wife and children he has done all that he ought to do. It matters not how difficult a task it has been to find the money to support his family, nor how hard he has been obliged to work to get the daily bread; it matters not how tired or how much in need of recreation he may be when he returns to his home at the close of the day; he finds his responsibility always facing him. Do not misunderstand the question, nor the purpose of these lines. This is in no sense a criticism nor is it a bit of preaching at the hard-working fathers upon whom rest the hopes of the race. Every true father is willing to give his life if necessary for his offspring and there is no greater devotion in the world than that of father to son. But the fact remains that many a busy man has been so overburdened with the cares of his everyday life that he has had no time to make himself familiar with even the smallest of his duties to his family.

Suddenly he becomes conscious that his son is growing away from him, that the little things that have bound them together have no longer the strength to hold, that they are drifting apart. Perhaps the father never has been on intimate terms with his son and has never really known what his child was thinking about or what his ideas and ideals really were. When this consciousness comes to the father, when he learns that he is no longer the one big figure on his son's horizon and that his words have ceased to be accepted as final on every question, he is startled and seeks strenuously to regain his position. Difficult will it be. To regain what has been lost is always difficult; more difficult is it to displace an influence that is already established. How many, many times there comes to the earnest teachers the anxious parent with the oft-repeated statements and questions. "My boy has grown away from me. I don't know him any more. What I say no longer has any influence with him. I don't know what to do. How can you help me? He thinks more of what you say than of what I say and would follow you even if I objected. What can I do? What advice can you give?" In many instances it is too late and never again can the father recover the influence he has lost.

On the other hand, it is possible in most cases for the father to reinstate himself if he proceeds in the right way. That way is never through command or restraint or discipline. By only one process can he succeed, and that is by placing himself in the position of the boy, learning the boy's tastes and interests and in joining with the boy in the things the latter likes. If there has never been much community of thought between the two, the parent may say in substance or show by his acts that he has rather neglected the youth because he was too young to be in sympathy with a man's work and because it was better for the mother to have the care of her son during his boyhood; but that now he is old enough to begin to think a man's thoughts and to take an interest in a man's occupations. Sometimes if this is followed by a real hearty confidence, if the father takes the boy with him on his business trips, shows him how the money for the family is made and what are the joys and compensations of a busy career, the boy's confidence is won, his interest aroused and a frank comradeship established, new bonds are created and the father finds a delightful companion, the boy an honored friend and a worthy leader. Such fathers have said again and again, "I have found a new and trustworthy friend, a helper whose enthusiasm and good sense is worth more to me than anything I have had in years; and it is my boy who is doing it." Unfortunately, most men fail to realize the power of a boy's mind, the helpfulness of his companionship. His outlook on life is so fresh and true, his ambition so strong and his willingness to be taught so refreshing that intimacy with him makes the adult much stronger and better able to master the annoyances of the day, and to win the commercial victories upon which subsistence depends.

But at its best this latter-day acquaintanceship is never so strong nor so helpful as that which begins when the child is an infant and continues through boyhood to the larger youth and manhood. And it is easy to win the confidence and respect of the very young, easy to retain it when won. Yet many a sincere and anxious man fails utterly to earn that sympathetic companionship which any father may have for the asking, if the request is made in a way the child can understand and appreciate. The foundation of it all is a sympathy in the things that children know and love. A child lives on a plane of his own. You cannot take him very far from it nor substitute anything in its place except by the slowest and most careful management. There can be no sympathy, no understanding that is not located on the childish plane. The father must come down where the child lives, must find his interest in the things that the child loves and must be sincere in every manifestation of that interest. Right here is where so many fathers fail. They try to interest the child in things which the older mind enjoys, and finding themselves unable to create the artificial atmosphere give up in discouragement and disgust. Such a course is foolish in the extreme. The older person who knows more and has had the experiences that are now new to youngsters must go back into his memories and join in the little things that make up the big complex of a child's world. Unless you become as little children you can never enter into the lives of children.

To become young again in a genuine fashion is not permitted to many of us and we must accordingly seek some common ground where we can meet the children and be as they are in seeming if not in reality. We may not be able to play their games with interest and sympathy, or the boys may be so skilful that we lose standing rather than gain influence by participation. We may not be able to sympathize with the rivalries of school or talk intelligently on the sports that make up a large part of their daily occupation. Where, then, can we meet them and how shall we put ourselves on an equality with them and at the same time preserve our leadership?

Such a question is not easy to answer in detail, but many a man has found a way and a simple one at that. In the first place, play is part of the life of every child and he has as much right to his fun as any adult has to the recreation he finds necessary to keep him at the top of his working power. Many a child may properly complain that he has had no childhood, that all the time he was being repressed and never allowed to express himself in his own way. He may not realize at the time that anything is wrong in the treatment that his father gives him, but the time comes when he will know and understand. Right there is a fact that every father ought to know and realize so thoroughly that he will never lose sight of it. Yes, some time every boy will know just what kind of a father he has had and just how worthy of respect and veneration that father has been. A little boy is credulity itself and everything tends to make him believe in his father. But as he grows older he will surely know. Woe be it to the parent who when disillusionment comes falls below the standard the child has set. Some time the boy will know. If he has never had the pleasure that was his due, if he has never had the fun in his home that he had a right to expect, his estimate of his parent will be appallingly low.

Through play in the home in the evening after the day's work is ended has many a father laid the foundation for an influence that controlled when other ties seemed strained to the breaking point. It is in this playtime that the boy expresses himself most fully. Every animal has its playtime, and the most savage of the beasts play with their little ones to educate them to succeed in the struggle for existence. If play is a natural expression of the child's mind and body, anything that represses play is a hindrance to development. In the cheery home where to have fun and lots of it is a daily habit every child grows and matures as perfectly as a plant where there are just the right amounts of sun and moisture and where the soil is perfectly adapted to growth. A little less light, a little less moisture, and the plant will wither and fail. A little less play and more repression and the child will become morose and fail to keep pace with his mates. To repress is so easy, to reconstruct so difficult!

After the play comes the work, but the work may be made as interesting as the play and may proceed in the same spirit of jollity and freedom that marked the time given up wholly to amusement. The work is the second factor in the father's influence—something on the plane of the child's own mind, not too difficult, not too long continued. Closely related, too, it must be with things that the child has done and understands. Some phase of school work may need to be carried on by the older ones in the family, but the younger boys are free to work with the father in anything that will stimulate and inspire. What shall the work be? To every one who has had to do with a large number of children the answer comes quickly enough. In reading and conversation will the boy and his father come most closely together, in a field that is attractive to both and where it is as easy to find entertainment and pleasure as it is to gain information and culture.

Two quotations from men of good judgment come into mind at this point. Arthur T. Hadley, recently President of Yale University, has said, "Men in every department of practical life, men in commerce, in transportation or in manufactures, have told me that what they really wanted from our college was men who have this selective power of using books efficiently. The beginnings of knowledge are best learned in any home fairly well furnished with books." Professor William Mathews has added, "It is not the number of books which a young man reads that makes him intelligent and well-informed, but the number of well-chosen ones that he has mastered so that every valuable thought in them is a familiar friend."

In those two quotations the ideas of prime importance to every father are, first, that the beginnings of knowledge are best learned in the home; and, second, that it is the mastery of what is read that really counts. In school a child learns to read; at his home he reads to learn. At school he learns how he ought to read; but it is at his home that he learns to read in that manner. What a boy does in school is a small part of the total amount of his reading, and its influence is small indeed. In home reading, then, reading of the right material in the right way, is to be found the great influence in education and the great factor in the building of character.

If such is the case, what more important work can there be for the father than to read with his son, to watch these beginnings of education which mean so much more than the mere instruction in school, and to be a power in developing that right method of reading which means not only the acquisition of knowledge but also the acquirement of power and the making of character. The busy man is tired at night and inclined to think that he has no time to give to reading with his boys. He may think, too, that reading childish stories is beneath his dignity. Such is not the case. There is a great abundance of literature that is manly, and at the same time interesting to a boy. If the father feels that he is past the time when he has any sympathy with the fairy stories and the little poems that the infants like, if he thinks the nursery rhymes are silly and the fables too old to be true, that is because he has not recently read them. Busy men, men of power and influence, like to renew their youth by going to the simple things they loved as children, and not a few of them find that the years have given them new powers of interpretation and that what was to them at one time only an amusing tale is now replete with the philosophy of the universe. Yet there may be fathers of so practical a mind that works of imagination have no hold upon them. To them, however, the world of literature is by no means barren. There are history, biography and essays upon a thousand subjects, any one of which will interest a boy and at the same time his father. Particularly is this true when the reading is aloud and interspersed with free conversation upon the subjects that come to the surface. If the father can only select the right material and read it with his son there is no question whatever about the interest that will develop for both. A busy man has little time to select reading; in all probability he has not had the experience to enable him to do so wisely, for he has been so absorbed in business that he has forgotten what he knew best as a boy and is unable to tell just what appealed to him most. It may be that he never in his youth had the opportunity to read the best of literature and does not know where to turn to find it. He hears his little family talking about what they read at school and how they ought to read and feels himself behind the times and hesitates to make an exhibition of himself before his children. To any father, a collection such as that in Journeys Through Bookland is of inestimable value. When it is considered that in addition to the literary material there are abundant suggestions as to how interest may be created and how the reading may be made most profitable, then the set becomes indispensable. In other words, Journeys contains the material that must be in every family to make it "fairly well furnished with books," and it provides a way of "mastering the books so that every valuable thought is a familiar friend."

If fathers could be persuaded to spend one evening with their boys in the reading and discussion of some selection in Journeys, they would not willingly forego the pleasure thereafter. It has happened so many times that we know this is not an overstatement. Fathers by the score have written us on the subject. One says, "I have solved the problem of keeping my boys off the streets, or, rather, Journeys has done it for me." "I have never spent a happier evening. The boys staid up with me till after their usual bed time and when they had retired, I read on for half the night," says another. "I feel young again, and John and I are great chums. Reminiscences of a Pioneer kept me telling stories long after we had finished reading the sketch." Who are these fathers? Clergymen, lawyers, doctors, teachers, we may expect, for they are somewhat interested in reading, because of their life work. But they are not the most numerous, by any means. Railroad men, manufacturers, farmers, men in hundreds of vocations acknowledge the delight of reading Journeys with their children. Is there anything finer, more wholesome, more inspiring than the thought of fathers and children reading together, and together feeling the inspiration that radiates from the great masterpieces.

But this chapter is not an argument for the purchase of Journeys. That you, father of a growing boy, are reading these lines is evidence that you have thought well enough of the Journeys idea to place a set of books in your family. You have done this because you recognized that in this age of specialists, you, a business man, could not be expected to select reading matter for your son and assist him in his growth and development with the same skill as can those who have devoted many years to that special problem. No attempt is made to advise you on the conduct of your business or to direct the management and control of your son. But a sincere effort has been made to help you to join with your boy in that hearty sympathy which will make him happier, better and more of a man; which will make you young again and add to your pleasure without increasing your burdens. What we want is to make the books most effective, to help them be the power for good that we know they can be, and more than anything else, to make them a living bond between father and son. So let us examine the books together with these thoughts in mind and see if we cannot find just the things that will arouse your enthusiasm and make you young again, an equal and a friend who can lead your boy where you want him to go and where he will gladly follow you.

For instance, there is in the sixth volume that kindly humorous account of a boyhood in Wisconsin in the early part of the last century, Reminiscences of a Pioneer (Volume V, 340). Every man will be interested in it, and he cannot read it aloud to a boy of seven without catching the attention of the child. Even a lad of sixteen will get into the spirit of the thing, although it may not be the same incidents that will attract him. Think of the contrast between that humble log cabin with its visiting Indians and the luxurious steam-heated flat of your son, or the farm house with all modern conveniences that a friend of yours may have in the very region where our little friend was frightened more by the strange Dutch immigrants than he was by the red men whom he saw every day. Think of a six or seven year old boy that had never seen an apple and who could enjoy chokecherries and crab apples, even though he couldn't get his face back into line on the same day in which he ate them fresh from the tree. Think of offering raw turnips to the guests and of people coming twenty miles to get a small piece of salt pork, because they were so tired of fresh meat and fish. Think that these things happened less than a hundred years ago and within forty miles of the now big and flourishing city of Milwaukee. What lessons there are in courage, skill, self-reliance and contentment in the lives of these early pioneers, especially the devoted mother who kept her yeast alive so many years, and stood off the Indians with one hand while she tended to her increasing family with the other. Can you imagine a boy who wouldn't be interested in the sturdy youngster who earned and refused his first quarter of a dollar for paddling a man across the river in a heavy dugout? Don't you think your son will have a host of questions to ask about it all and that you will be glad to talk to him about the Indians he likes to imitate when he plays? Can't you see that reading such as this is worth while and that every moment spent in this way is an investment for yourself in the boy's confidence and good graces?

Other selections of a somewhat similar nature, all of which will appeal to boys at the time when Indians and adventure are of more interest than anything else, are the following:

The Arickara Indians, Volume IV, page 472. The Buccaneers, Volume V, page 359. Captain Morgan at Maracaibo, Volume V, page 365. Ringrose and His Buccaneers, Volume VIII, page 1. David Crockett in the Creek War, Volume VIII, page 37. Braddock's Defeat, Volume V, page 379. The Capture of Vincennes, Volume VI, page 428. The Black Hawk Tragedy, Volume VII, page 58. Pere Marquette, Volume VIII, page 121. George Rogers Clark, Volume VI, page 422.

Have no fear that the boy's love for Indians and adventure is a thing to suppress. It is an evidence of growth and of development. You know every boy lives over in himself the history of his race, and as there was a time when the life of mankind was a struggle with physical difficulties and personal danger so there is a time when every boy feels within himself the admiration for brave deeds and the desire to fight and conquer. Your province it is to meet him on that ground, enjoy with him the tales of lofty daring and physical prowess, the tales of stirring adventure and narrow escapes, and to lead him gently with you into the fields of history where achievements in science, commerce and engineering take the place of battles with wild animals and wilder Indians.

Don't feel that you have not the time to do the things recommended. We can always find the time to do the things we like to do, and this means of joining in the thoughts of your boy will be one of the things you will most enjoy when you have once accustomed yourself to it.

We get out of reading just what we put into it. That is to say, the same selection read by different people will have just as many meanings as there are people reading it. By assistance, a person may be caused to see more in what he reads and in time may approximate the full understanding of his teacher. But it is unwise and useless to expect a child to read with the same appreciation that an adult has. Accordingly the father, if he is wise, will be satisfied when his boy is really interested in a thoroughly good selection if he sees at the same time that the boy is setting about his interpretation in the right way. To illustrate: If you are reading about a storm at sea and you are a survivor of a shipwreck in such a storm, your appreciation of the description will be infinitely more vivid than that of your son, who has not even seen the sea. All that you can do is to give him some idea of the power of the waves, make him feel that the sight is a thrilling one and that there is imminent danger to life and property in the storm. Some time he will have the experience to interpret and then his mind will recur to the description and he will understand it somewhat as you do now. This brings us to think for a moment on the permanent value of all that is read. The mind holds things in abeyance, brings them out to the light now and then, and each time finds them more and more intelligible and influential. Many a maxim learned in youth when an understanding of it was impossible becomes a power for good for the person in later years when its inner significance appears.

Some poetry will appeal to boys, even though they may look askance at most of it. Some lyrics are virile and powerful, well worthy the study of the keenest minds. There is an unfounded prejudice against poetry in many men because of the fancied puerility of it and its silly sentiment. Such a prejudice always disappears if the person reads enough and selects the things that are worthy of study. Narrative poems are more likely to appeal to men and boys than the lyrics. When the narrative is a stirring one and the action dramatic, the poetic form adds decidedly to its interest and effectiveness. Take, for instance, that little poem by Robert Browning that is known as Incident of the French Camp (Volume IV, page 174). No man can read it without being stirred by it, and its appeal to boys is immediate and strong. But strong as it is, the whole influence of it may be intensified if it is discussed in the manner indicated on the pages immediately after the poem. What we would have you do is to read the little epic with your boy and talk it over with him along the lines of the comments given. It will not be necessary for you to point the moral. He will see it for himself, but if you can show a little enthusiasm and delight in the incident he will go away feeling better toward you and will be a convert to poetry, at least to some kinds of it. Later in life the lesson will come back to him and he will seek for more of the same sort.

There are a great number of poems of similar import in the books. Any one of the following will be capital for reading aloud with your boy. Try them and be convinced.

Beth Gelert, Volume III, page 42. Sheridan's Ride, Volume IV, page 223. Bernardo Del Carpio, Volume IV, page 270. The Wooden Horse, Volume IV, page 383. Little Giffin of Tennessee, Volume IV, page 461. Bruce and the Spider, Volume V, page 314. How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix, Volume V, page 335. Sohrab and Rustum, Volume VI, page 173. How's My Boy? Volume VII, page 169. The Battle of Ivry, Volume VIII, page 76. Herve Riel, Volume VII, page 168.

Any one of the national anthems or patriotic poems is fine reading and a source for many a kindly talk that will tend to make a better citizen of your son and perhaps give you a fresher and truer conception of your own duties and responsibilities to the government. These you may readily find from the index in the tenth volume, under the title, Patriotic Poems.

For older boys there are plenty of good selections, and the discussion of some of them must help to bring nearer to the lad his increasing responsibilities. A normal boy of sixteen has a lot of the man in him and wants to be treated as a man, at least to have his ideas, hopes and ambitions given some consideration. He does not want always to be called "Bobby" or "Jimmy" or "Tommy." He likes better to be called "Smith," "Jones," or "Robinson," or whatever his last name is. He is tired of being told to do this and that and would like to join in some of the family councils and feel that father is beginning to see the man and forget the "kid." He will be interested in anything that relates to commerce, or manufacture or government if it is presented to him in such a way that he can "be somebody" in the discussion.

It is easy to interest boys in speaking, in orations, in debates. In Journeys (Volume IX, page 321) is printed the Gettysburg Address by Abraham Lincoln. It is the one great, masterly American address, noted not only for its perfect construction, but for its sentiment, its power and its brevity. In no other great address are all these elements combined. Tested by any standard it rings true in thought and is perfect in form. It is worth while to commit it to memory, and father and son should be equally interested in the task, if it can be called a task. Preceding the address is a note giving its historical setting, and following it is an analysis of the thought and a series of questions tending to give the thought a more personal application. The Fate of the Indians and A Call to Arms, both in Volume IX, are good orations accompanied by studies.