Duties.

I. We ought to try and make ourselves like to study, because in studying we are using the higher part of ourselves.

II. We ought to make ourselves like those studies which will do us the most good in the end.

III. We ought to compel the mind to work, until we come to like it.

Poem.

You'll not learn your lesson by crying, my man,
You'll never come at it by crying, my man;
Not a word can you spy

For the tear in your eye;

Then set your heart to it, for surely you can.

If you like your lesson, it's sure to like you,
The words then so glibly would jump into view;
Each one to its place

All the others would chase,

Till the laddie would wonder how clever he grew

You'll cry till you make yourself stupid and blind,
And then not a word can you keep in your mind;
But cheer up your heart,

And you'll soon have your part,
For all things grow easy when bairns are inclined.
-ALEXANDER SMART.

Here

One

FURTHER SUGGESTIONS TO THE TEACHER: surely is the opportunity for a biography. One might introduce something of the story of a life like that of Louis Agassiz. It is an inspiring narrative and one which can be made most interesting to young people. Emphasis could be laid on his early career and how he threw his whole soul and being into study; how his whole life from start to finish was of this kind. can point out the way in which he compelled himself to work and the devotion with which he could keep on at one subject until he had mastered it. There is much which is unusually picturesque and striking in the life of Agassiz, to young and old alike. One could read extracts from his letters, or give account of his classroom methods, in the way he made his students work.

Something could be brought in concerning his persistence in getting knowledge under difficulties; as, for instance, in the story of the way he acquired his knowledge of ice and glaciers in Switzerland. The whole lesson might be given over with advantage to such a biography, and it could be held up as an inspiration to the young. One must, of course, be careful in not fostering the idea that the professions are the only high occupations, as if all young people should aspire to become lawyers or teachers or physicians or writers of books. It can be shown how the necessity for study applies to a much wider range of occupations. Emphasis could be laid on the fact that use of the mind becomes very important in all labor which is above that of the spade or shovel in digging ditches or cleaning the streets. The teacher can dwell on the fact that the one chance by which a man may rise into more advanced occupations will depend on the facility with which he uses his mind, or the capacity he has acquired for concentrated effort. We do not wish to have study appear as merely committing to memory facts out of books or having lessons in school. This would give a false impression. We should rather identify the fact of study with the active, concentrated use of the mind in all the many ways where a final purpose is before us. It could be pointed out, therefore, how the lawyer studies, the business man likewise, the bookkeeper, the office clerk. Wherever there is a head bent down over the desk, it means "study." Elevate this word therefore in the minds of the young people, from the usual conception of it as being something which only children have to do in school, and connect it in their minds with the kind of brain-work which the more educated people have to do all their lives.

CHAPTER XXII.

EXAGGERATION.

Proverbs or Verses.

"Exaggeration is to paint a snake and to add legs."Chinese Proverb.

"Exaggeration is a blood relation to Falsehood."

"We weaken what we exaggerate."-La Harpe.

"Behold what a great matter a little fire kindleth."-St. Paul.

"A man may say too much even on the best of subjects." "A man of all tongue is dangerous in his city." "He who says what he likes hears what he does not like." "It is good speaking that improves good silence."

"It is one thing to speak much and another to speak pertinently."

"Speaking without thinking is shooting without aiming." "Speech is a gift of all, but thought of few."-Cato. "Thistles and thorns prick sore,

But evil tongues prick more.”

"The tongue of a fool carves a piece of his heart to all who sit near him."

Dialogue.

Did you ever know of a case where a number of persons came home after witnessing some occurrence, and in describing what they saw, failed to tell it exactly alike? Do you think that ever happens?

"Yes," you assure me, "that is quite sure to happen every time if a number of people try to give an account of the same event." And what is the reason for it? Do they make up the whole story?

"No," you assert. What, then, is the cause of the confusion? "Well, to begin with," you say, "they may not all have observed carefully or seen everything which occurred." Yes, that is one explanation; just carelessness in noticing what took place.

But what made them give the whole account quite as if they had seen it precisely as it happened? Why should they not confess that they had not watched it carefully?

"Oh," you answer, "if they had been so frank, then people would not have listened to them or paid much attention to their story. Hence they tell it just as if they had seen it all.

But is there any other reason why they should not agree in their account? "Yes," you continue, "it might be that they had not been in the same positions, and each one had seen only a part of what took place, or seen it from a different side."

Then was their account inaccurate or untrue? "No, not exactly," you admit; "they each described what they saw." Why do you put in the word "exactly?" "Well," you reply, "they might have explained that, and told how they had seen it only from one side."

Would the omission be intentional, do you think? "Not necessarily," you tell me, "they could forget to mention it."

But suppose they do not forget in the matter. What other motive might they have? "Oh," you add, "it would spoil their story.'"

When several persons describe an event and their accounts do not agree, which account is liable to be the most interesting? "Why," you explain, "the one that has most excitement to it, the most variety, the one that is best told."

In the several accounts, on the other hand, which one would be the most liable to be accurately true, the one which was the most interesting and told with exciting features, or the one which would be tame and not attract so much attention?

"Well," you assume, "we must admit that in all probability the tame one would probably be the more correct."

But why? "To begin with," you say, "everything that happens might not be exciting or have anything exciting about it." But is that the only reason? I ask.

"No," you add further, "the fact of it is, a good many persons have a way of dressing up their story so as to make it interesting to people, and not telling it exactly as it happened."

And what do we call such a habit? "Oh, it is exaggeration," you say. Yes, you are right.

Would you really assume that people do this deliberately? Do they consciously tell a lie? Are they clearly aware that they have left a part of their story out, or added something to it? "No, perhaps it is not quite so bad as that," you hesitate.

How do you explain it, then? What is it done for? "Why," you point out, "they may want to make their story interesting, to have people listen to them. They are anxious to attract attention to themselves."

You mean that in doing this they dress up the story or the event, using words which make it striking but are not exactly true in the account? "Yes, that is about it," you reply.

But if it is not done consciously or deliberately, with the idea of telling a lie, how is it possible that they can do this and not be aware of what they are doing.

"Why, for instance," you suggest, "it becomes a sort of habit, so that by and by they forget exactly what did take place, or they purposely may not look very carefully. And so when they are telling their story, they do not exactly know whether they are right or not in what they are describing."

Take a number of persons in this way, say half a dozen boys and girls accustomed to repeating what they have heard. If they do not all give the same account, will it so happen that sometimes it will be one of these people who tells the thing accurately, and another time another, and a third time a third, just as a matter of accident?

"Oh, no," you assert, "not by any manner of means." How is it then? "Why," you add, "usually it is the same person who tells it correctly, and the same person who exaggerates it."