ments and the Natioual museum at Washington. Lying just off shore, northeast of the government building, is the reproduction of a modern war ship, with the latest designs in armament and defensive armor. The United States signal station and lifesaving station stand in close proximity upon the north entrance to the lagoon.

The list of State and foreign buildings is too long and their attractions too numerous to be given in detail, but it may be worth while to mention that their historical collections and illustrations of natural products and resources will be most attractive to those visiting the Fair.

The Administration building, the central artistic structure of the Exposition, is also open to the public, except the offices of the administration. The elevators are run without charge, and the public is admitted to all the floors, the galleries, and the dome during the hours when the Exposition is open. All these are exhibits in Jackson Park proper, and admission to them all is covered by the entrance fee of 50 cents. In addition to the above, this one fee of 50 cents secures admission to the grounds of the Midway plaisance.

I have the honor to submit herewith a list of special entertainments and outside exhibits, in which are noted those that are free to the public and those to which admission is charged. In the latter case the price of admission is given. The list also includes the various concessionary exhibits used for the transportation of passengers and the charges authorized in each instance. I have the honor to be

Very respectfully yours, GEORGE R. DAVIS, Director General.

ENTERTAINMENTS.

Chinese Village, admission 25 cents. Irish Village and Blarney Castle. Lectures on Animal Locomotion, no admission charge.

Nippon Tea House, admission 10, 25, and 50 cents.

Persian Building, admission 50 cents. Ruins of the Cliff Dwellers, admission 25 cents.

Costumed Natives of Forty Countries, admission 25 cents.

Typical Irish Village with Native Inhabitants, admission 25 cents.

Japanese Bazars-No admission fee. Vienna Cafe and Concert Hall, no admission fee.

Competitive Musical Exercises, prices to be approved by Exposition company.

Model of St. Peter's Church, Rome, admission 25 cents.

Hagensback's Zoological Arena, admission to building, 25 cents; seats in amphitheatre from 25 cents to $1.00.

Tunisian Exhibit and Cafe, no admission

fee.

Mammoth Crystal Cave, no admission fee. Model Eiffel Tower, admission 25 cents. Vienna Maennerchor Society, prices to be approved by bureau of music.

Whaling Bark. Process, admission 25 cents.

Electric Scenic Theatre, admission 25 cents.

East Indian Wares, no admission fee.
Festival Hall, admission $1.00.

Captive Balloon, admission to inclosure, 25 cents; trip in balloon $2.00.

Constantinople Street Scenes, Sedan chairs rent, with two native carriers, $1 per hour.

Cairo Street Scenes, donkey and camel rides, 50 cents per hour for donkeys; 25 cents for ride through street on camel.

World's Fair Steamship Company, transportation of passengers to and from Jackson park, round trip 25 cents.

Electric Intramural Railway, ten cents round trip.

Steam Launches, transportation through outer lagoons, basins, and Lake Michigan; ronnd trip, 25 cents.

Electric Launches, transportation through lagoons and basins, round trip, 25 cents.

Wheel Chairs, roller chairs about grounds and buildings, 75 cents per hour with attendant, 40 cents per hour without service of an attendant.

Venetian Gondolas and Barges, about lagoons and basins with gondoliers, 50 cents per round trip.

Elevators in Transportation Building, ten cents per ride.

Elevators to the Roof of the Manufactures Building, 50 cents for trip.

Vertical Revolving Wheel, 50 cents per ride of two round trips.

Movable Sidewalk, Long Pier-Electrically propelled sidewalk, 5 cents per ride from shore to end of sidewalk, or vice versa.

PRAISE AS STIMULUS.

BY LOUISE FOSTER.

VERY effort had failed, and in my

EVE

mental day-book I had written against Tom's name "Incorrigible." My inventive faculty for punishment had been worked to the utmost; he had staid "after school," had sat still for a prescribed time, had written words by the hundred on his slate, and sometimes even whole phrases, for in this particular school moral sentences were considered corrective. As a last resort he had been banished from the room. But all in vain, Tom was still uncured. And what was his particular fault? It is hard to define his daily course; it simply did not "work for righteousness." He was an adept in finding out my pet prejudices and adopting them as his pet pastime. His pranks and perpetual good temper won him many friends; every boy might at any time be his "chum." In spite of his vagaries he was a favorite with me too, for he always had an answer ready, delivered with unfailing promptness and good humor. Isn't the quick, mentally active boy always the energetic, obstreperous boy?

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One day Tom had worried me than usual and I heaved a sigh of relief as I gave out an unusually difficult problem in arithmetic. I knew that he was reduced to order for one while. Pretty soon however, he came up with the problem correctly solved, and his eager, exultant face drew from me unhesitatingly some generous praise and the remark that he ought to be in the next class. I shall never forget the sudden flush and the breathlessness with which he said, "I would work!" It opened my eyes; I saw my mistake; all that was needed was to arouse his ambition and to direct his energies. I had accomplished the former, unwittingly, it is true, but none the less actually; the latter might also be accomplished by means of sympathy and encouragement. And it was; many a time my own patience failed me, and then of course, Tom returned to his old obstreperous ways, but we struggled up again and finally succeeded. This little experience did much for me.

As I look back upon my own youthful days, I can remember the very small modicum of praise which I received. If I did right, it was no more than was to

be expected, and therefore nothing to my credit. Of course I deserved no praise, and I got none; I grew up expecting to do my duty, or take the consequences, and as a result distrusted much generous praise, which later comes to me from the world outside. Praise from some one whom we value is high reward; it may be bestowed by one even upon whom we do not look with favor and be here also high reward, but it must be impulsively given, generously bestowed, or it loses its value. And why is it not a suitable reward to hold up to our scholars?

Boys and girls have an exceedingly keen sense of justice, and know when they have done well, or at least have tried hard, which often means the same thing to them. But they have little perseverance, and that is natural. They are growing mentally and increasing in every way their score of experiences with which to fill up the mental warehouse. Attracted now by this, now by that, they wander here and there like will-o'-thewisps and stick to nothing. The faculty of stick-to-it-iveness must be cultivated, and that is best accomplished through reward. Big and little, young and old, all work on in hope of winning some goal which shall serve as reward for all the labor undergone. Sometimes it is ideal success, sometimes it is material success. With boys and girls it is usually the latter. That success is assured to them by the teacher's praise. The bright boy is like a full-blooded horse, on his mettle, ready to respond to the prick of the spur. He answers the confidence placed in him with worthy generous action, and earns the praise offered him by renewed effort. The average girl does not lag behind the bright boy. bright boy. And I have noticed that the action of such boys and girls will curb and control comrades of less delicate moral sense, to the abounding advantage of all.

Such a course requires patience and discernment on the part of the teacher. The misdeed stands out in glaring prominence, and the condemning looks and words for some reason always seem uppermost. It is so easy to say,, "Stay after school, Jones," or "Leave the room, Brown.' And then, afterwards, upon investigation, the affair was really most trifling, and a laughing word might have changed the whole course of events.

Generous praise and true hearty interest in my scholars are my weapons of dis

cipline and self-protection. Tolstoi has a story in which he tells of the anarchy in a school and its final conquest by the natural interest and curiosity aroused in the scholars. They are not machines, and they resent half-hearted treatment. Praise generously administered is more stimulating than the prick of a sarcastic word, or the sting of the lash.-Popular Educator.

THERI

WORK.

THOMAS CARLYLE.

HERE is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, in work. Were he never so benighted, forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works; in idleness alone is there perpetual despair. Work, never so mammonish, mean, is in communication with Nature: the real desire to get work done will itself lead one more and more to truth, to Nature's appointments and regulations, which are truth.

Blessed is he who has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness. He has a work, a life-purpose: he has found it, and will follow it. How, as a free-flowing channel, dug and torn by noble force through the sour mud-swamp of one's existence, like an ever-deepening river there, it runs and flows!-draining off the sour, festering water gradually from the root of the remotest grass blade; making, instead of pestilential swamp, a green, fruitful meadow with its clear-flowing stream. How blessed for the meadow itself, let the stream and its value be great or small!

Labor is life; from the inmost heart of the worker rises his God-given force, the sacred celestial life-essence; breathed into him by Almighty God, from his inmost heart awakens him to all nobleness, to all knowledge, self-knowledge," and much else, so soon as work fitly begins. Knowledge! the knowledge that will hold good in working, cleave thou to that; for Nature herself accredits that, says Yea to that. Properly, thou hast no other knowledge but what thou hast got by working: the rest is yet all a hypothesis of knowledge; a thing to be argued of in schools, a thing floating in the clouds in endless logic vortices till we try it and fix it. "Doubt, of whatever kind, can be ended by action alone."

Older than all preached gospels was this unpreached, inarticulate, but ineradicable, forever-enduring gospel: Work, and therein have well-being. Man, son of earth and heaven, lies there not, in the innermost heart of thee, a spirit of active method, a force for work:-and burns like a painfully smoldering fire, giving thee no rest till thou unfold it, till thou write it down in beneficent facts around thee! What is immethodic, waste, thou shalt make methodic, regulated, arable, obedient and productive to thee. Wheresoever thou findest disorder, there is thy eternal enemy: attack him swiftly, subdue him; make order of him, the subject not of chaos, but of intelligence, divinity, and thee! The thistle that grows in thy path, dig it out that a blade of useful grass, a drop of nourishing milk, may grow there instead, The waste cottonshrub, gather its waste white down, spin it, weave it; that in place of idle litter, there may be folded webs, and the naked skin of man be covered.

But, above all, where thou findest ignorance, stupidity, brute-mindednessattack it, I say; smite it wisely, unweariedly, and rest not while thou livest and it lives; but smite, smite in the name of God! The highest God, as I understand it, does audibly so command thee; still audibly, if thou have ears to hear. He, even He, with His unspoken voice, is fuller than any Sinai thunders, or syllabled speech of whirlwinds; for the SILENCE of deep eternities, of worlds from beyond the morning stars, does it not speak to thee? The unborn ages; the old graves, with their long-mouldering dust, the very tears that wetted it, now all dry-do not these speak to thee what ear hath not heard? The deep deathkingdoms, the stars in their never-resting courses, all space and all time, proclaim it to thee in continual silent admonition. Thou, too, if ever man should, shalt work while it is called to-day; for the night cometh, wherein no man can work.

All true work is sacred; in all true work, were it but true hand-labor, there is something of divineness. Labor, wide as the earth, has its summits in Heaven. Sweat of the brow; and up from that to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart; which includes all Kepler calculations, Newton 'meditations, all sciences, all spoken epics, all acted heroism, martyrdoms-up to that "agony of bloody sweat," which all men have called divine!

O brother, if this is not "worship," then I say, the more pity for worship; for this is the noblest thing yet discovered under God's sky.

Who art thou that complainest of thy life of toil? Complain not. Look up, my wearied brother, see thy fellow-workmen there, in God's eternity; surviving there, they alone surviving: sacred band of the immortals, celestial body-guard of the empire of mind. Even in the weak human memory they survive so long, as saints, as heroes, as gods; they alone surviving: peopling, they alone, the immeasured solitudes of Time! To thee Heaven, though severe, is not unkind; Heaven is kind-as a noble mother; as that Spartan mother, saying while she gave her son his shield, " WITH IT, MY SON, OR UPON IT!" Thou, too, shalt return home in honor, to thy far-distant home in honor; doubt it not-if in the battle thou keep thy shield! Thou, in the eternities and deepest death-kingdoms, art not an alien; thou everywhere art a denizen! Complain not: the very Spartans did not complain.

HOLIDAYS.

BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

MANY

ANY need a holiday more for the sake of their spirit than for their body; they do, especially, who are much engaged in the school-room, society, pressing home cares, or philanthropic work, and who minister to their fellows from the richest store of their heart, and whose emotional power becomes exhausted in the service. Just before the holiday dawns, they wonder what has come to them that all life should suddenly be "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," that they should think so ill of the world and so meanly of themselves and of their work-being unaware of the fact that, though they may be apparently in their usual health, virtue has gone out of them for the healing of the multitude. leaving them spiritless and jaded. Such persons ought to be laid under an interdict to see and hear nothing but pleasant things until the term of their holiday is reached.

The moral benefits of a holiday wisely spent are endless, and not the least is that of being for a while detached from our several little worlds and wandering in

God's wider one, and the wholesome feeling one gains by the excursion, which comes when we learn how small is the one and how large is the other. At home, in the office, in the school, or in the pulpit, we are very important; but abroad we are but one among a thousand equally undistinguished. The gifts of which, perhaps, we were proud at home, serve us not abroad, and under different circumstances, where talents other than our own are in request. The fisherman we chat with on the beach, and the man at the wheel in the vessel in which we sail, have something to teach us.

It is good to get far enough away from our work to see it in its true proportions; like an artist who steps back a dozen paces from his picture that he may see its effect, and know where to labor on it with all his strength, and where he must touch it lightly.

And, blessed above all, when the holiday is done, is the feeling with which we return, of reconciliation to our lot, as the one, all things considered, best fitted for us; thankful, too, for the familiar faces, the mercies of our common days, and a-hungered for our work; and with the sense of all things having become new. So little is needed to transform the universe; just one touch of renewal upon our spirit, and a little anointing of the eyes,. and the miracle is wrought!

Those whom a fortnight must suffice for a holiday, and who feel that little space is to be long and much, look for-ward to it half the year, and when it is over, remember the taste of it as long;. and when the evil times come, the long spells of nursing or of work, glimpses of the vanished blessedness, some vision of a waterfall, or a sunset, or the faint echo. of a dove's note in the wood, rise in the memory to bless them in the sick chamber or the shop; and the clerk who hurries to his desk in the November fog catches sight of a picture in the print-seller's window which at once recalls his holiday, and sends him through the monotony of the day with the impetus of a remembered joy.

One needs special grace on holidays,. chiefly that he may leave his cares behind him. To do this, is, perhaps, more an art than a grace. Some are never perfected in it; others acquire it only after long servitude. Then, what grace is needed to restrain the spirit of the faultfinder, and to be content in holidays, with

the sojourner's fare! And many sorely lack the grace of a quiet eye; their holiday is one breathless hunt for the picturesque; they have not the wit to sit still and let the beauty of nature flash upon them unawares and of its own accord; or to know that a mountain or a fair landscape must be lived with and studied in all its modes and degrees of light and shade, in order to be known.-University Review.

of color; waves of sound stimulate the auditory nerve and produce the sensation of sound. This stimulation of these cells through sense impressions constitutes the education of the various senses.

But we do not merely perceive with these groups of cells; we also remember by means of them. When we recall the voice of a friend, a tone, a melody, or a harmony, we do it with the same cells with which we hear. In like manner, we recall things seen with the very cells with which we see; tastes, odors, etc., with the

THE

BY SUPT. THOS. M. BALLIET.

HE brain is composed of a layer of cellular matter on the outer surface and fibrous matter within. The function of the cells is to generate nerve energy, that of the fibres to communicate it. All conscious mental action takes place in the cells; the fibres form the physical basis of association and are the telegraph wires connecting the cells with one another and with other parts of the body, While the hemispheres of the brain have long since been regarded as the organs of the mind, it is only a little over twenty years since it was discovered that different parts of the outer gray layer perform different functions. We see with one part of this layer, hear with another part, smell, taste, and touch with still other portions. Indeed, it is probable that heat and cold and impressions coming from the muscles, joints, and ligaments of the body, are perceived by different parts of the brain. If you draw a dull metallic point across the cheek it feels alternately cold and warm. There are spots on the skin where we seem to perceive only cold, and others where we perceive only heat. It is supposed, though not proved, that even heat and cold are perceived by different sensory nerves.

The cells with which we see have been quite definitely located in the back lobes of the brain, and those with which we hear in the temporal lobes. The exact location of the rest is not so certain as their existence-which latter is the important fact considered from an educational standpoint. The conscious processes of seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, etc., are carried on in these brain cells, and not in the eye, ear, or other sense organs. Waves of light stimulate the optic nerve and produce the sensation

etc. Hence each sense has its memory, and we have not "a memory," but memories. Educationally this means that there is no one study or exercise which trains "the memory, as there is no one study or exercise which trains all the enses. Each memory must receive its own special training. Memorizing the words of the book used to be defended in school on the ground that it "trains the memory." It does train the verbal memory, but not the memory for color, sound, What we commonly call "varieties of memory," as found in different persons, are really so many different memories.

etc.

It follows, also, that the means of training the memory of any one of the senses do not differ materially from the means of training the senses. More than this, these groups of cells, or "brain centers,' are not only the organs of our senses and our memories, but they are also the organs of our imaginations. I say "imaginations," for as we have not "a memory," but "memories," so we have not "an imagination," but imaginations. We imagine color with the same cells with which we see and recall color; we imagine tones with the same cells with which we see and recall color; we imagine tones with the same cells with which we hear and recall tones. Educationally this means, in the first place, that a thorough training of the senses is required as a basis for the higher processes which I have just called "imagination;" in the second place, it means that there is no one exercise or study which develops "the imagination."

Blindness may be caused by an injury to the eye, by an injury to the optic nerve, or by a disease of the cells in the brain with which we see. A person who is eye-blind still remembers what he has seen, for the cells in the brain are uninjured; so likewise a person who is made