in their originality, but perhaps not one of them is so remarkable for perspicuity and lucidity as the statement that "if a man lives without food for a considerable time, say sixty days, he will die at the end of a month, or, if the constitution is delicate, he may only live for a week or less." A COUNTRY READING CLASS. BY FLORENCE E. STRYKER. HANKSGIVING was TH over, and the "big" boys and girls were coming in for the winter. The teacher, young and inex. perienced, watched them shyly. They were rough, honest, simple-hearted, ignorant, fresh from the fields and farm-houses, eager for a little knowledge and a great deal of fun. Still they brought an added interest into the school life, even if the work and discipline seemed harder, and soon nearly all the lessons, grammar, arithmetic, geography, etc., began to work in quite smoothly. All but the reading class! That was a weary time, as the little assembly of men and women, for in thought and manner some of them were truly mature, gathered around the well-worn Sixth Readers, and with the patience of indifference ground out the prose and poetry and historical selections they had read for the last two winters; then the heart of the teacher sank. She must do something, but what should she do? | kept up the interest. In a little while the reading hour became one of the events of the day. How the big boys learned quotations and quoted them to the Jessicas of their fancy! And the big girls, how they laughed with pride and amusement at Portia's devices! There was wild excite. ment the day they read the "Trial Scene." When the dear little books were finished, the class eagerly asked for more, and this time the teacher did not have to buy them. They now entered the "Palace Wood" and met Titania in the "Midsummer Night's Dream." By the time that was finished, the three months allowed by law were over. Spring had come, the boys were off to the fields, the girls to the farm kitchens. But the power of the little books still lingered, and the teacher noticed on her spring round of visits, the familiar volumes resting in state on parlor tables in many a farmhouse. Surely, she thought, some good had been gained. It had seemed ridiculous at first, a Shakespeare class in Green Meadow schoolhouse. But those boys and girls had felt, even if dimly, the beauty of literature's greatest master. Was it not something that she had pushed open a little wider the door that leads into the realm of "sweetness and light?"—N. Y. School Fournal. They C One evening, as she sat alone reading her Shakespeare, an inspiration came. should know Shakespeare, too. She would get the "Merchant of Venice" and let them read it. Then she wavered-was it sacrilege? Would they understand it? Perhaps not, and they might lose even the little interest they now possessed. Finally, she determined to try, and invested in a number of little paper school editions,-for the committee absolutely refused to pay for "such extravagances," and brought them to school one winter's day. She gave them, first, a little talk. Told them of the great master who lived so long ago in the little town on the Avon. Of his life, his boyish scrapes, his after troubles and triumphs, and the immortality he has left behind him. The next day they began to read the play. The story pleased them, the notes carefully explained by the teacher showed the meanings of the queer, old-fashioned words. The constant dialogue movement THE "FACE-LIGHT" OF THE TEACHER. 'HILDREN are by nature very keen ob servers. They are quick to read the purpose of those about them, and seldom make a mistake. Their idea of the fitness of things is quite accurate, and they gauge words and example by the same high standard. The world of nature from which they receive their first lessons has taught them the difference between the real and the false, and how to detect and test the genuine from the counterfeit. They have learned to depend upon their senses to see things, and upon their wits to interpret them. This habit is brought into play when they deal with men and women; and so apt are children in this art that they sometimes seem to surprise our thoughts when these are in the very act of taking shape in the mind. It is impossible so to disguise or conceal ourselves that pupils will not see us as we are. They will know us in toto, and under the crucial test of their searching gaze they can tell whether the manner or word of 1892.] WHITTIER MEMORIAL MEETING. parent or teacher is rooted fast in the conscience or merely prompted by the expediency of the hour; whether the interest or sympathy shown is the eonviction of the heart or a fitful flash that expires with the moment, or in other words, whether the acTherefore tion is genuine or assumed. great care should be taken on our part that children are impressed with the right spirit, for our influence with them will largely depend upon the faith which they place in us. If they once doubt us, or have any ground to file questions upon our conduct, it will require particular skill and study to wipe out the feeling of distrust implanted. The teacher is repeatedly brought under the critical eye of the child's inspection. Even where the teacher has been known to the pupil for years, he is constantly subjected to the closest scrutiny. Things must be understood and lived over again, and what better place has the child to measure their significance, than in the words and actions of the teacher? Here he can tell by the play of the countenance, the light in the eye, the firmness of the mouth, the poise of the head, the extent to which the teacher feels and responds to the character of his work. By these signs the child will guide his own interest; without them words are empty and meaningless to him. They are the visible means by which he can tell the sympathy, the strength of purpose, the earnest and patient efforts and the degree of skill, which are brought into service in his behalf. If they are genuine, bearing the imprint of an earnest soul, they will rivet his attention and secure his hearty co-operation. But the teacher must ever remember that the child will probe deeper than the face. A show of being interested, or a spasm of enthusiasm, or a pretense of justice, cannot deceive the child. He can tell whether the light upon the face is a true index of the feelings. He can tell whether it is cold or warm, and if it does not carry the warmth of a soul dedicated to the true interests of the school, it will fall upon his ears like "sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal." Any oue can verify the force of these facts by incidents in his own experience. A few days ago our attention was called to this matter by a little fellow with whom we held a conversation. Among the things he mentioned about his school was the one that When he liked to do work for his teacher. "Because pressed for his reason, he said: her eyes shine so bright when I do it right. She looks at me when I get to a hard place as if I was the only one in school that needed help. And when it is done, she WHITTIER MEMORIAL MEETING.* IT T is always fitting, when a great man dies, that we should spare an hour for reflecA detion from our busy round of duties. sire to honor the memory of the dead is, perhaps, sufficient warrant for doing so, yet a more adequate ground lies in the benefit that comes from a study of the good that But the memorial service men have done. that we now begin is in a peculiar sense a We are impelled to it not gracious one. only because of the worth of the man, and because he was our fellow countryman, but also because he was one of our household of faith. The men and women who erected these walls have clasped his hand in the friendship that follows from sacred fellowship. They, perhaps, more than others, have been moved by his words of power; In a similar they claim him for their own. He belongs to us in sense he is ours, too. catholicity of faith, in fiery indignation at in love for the simple pleas. human wrongs, ures of home, in appreciation for all that is We conduct lovable in nature or man. these services, therefore, in honor of a great man, a great poet, a great American, but most of all, perhaps, in remembrance of him who stands so near to us as a Friend. The poet is an artist, and like the sculptor, must release his dream from the marble block. He must twine his thought with the The idea must shine forth flowers of fancy. through a sense-medium. No one knows better than Whittier how to use the beauties of nature as a setting for his ideas, yet with He him the means never become the end. may sing of -the grass and flowers and trees, * Introductory remarks by President Charles De Garmo, at Swarthmore College, Oct. 9, 1892. Of the singing birds and the humming bees, yet beneath all the imagery is seen the sober thought of human destiny. We may go with the man back to boyhood's days when— We piled with care our nightly stack or with him we may live over again the pleasures of the field and the wood; yet underneath all, revealing itself here and there like the stone wall through the ivy, is the story of life; for with Whittier life is more than raiment, the gem more than its setting. Poetry is with him but—— The sheen on the river, The foam on the tide. Beneath the "fretted sunbeams" on the surface is the deep current of moral earnestness, beneath the bridal veil the true heart. Finding then such a substratum of moral earnestness in everything that Whittier does, we shall be prepared to see that like every great writer, he has embodied in his works his solution to the problem of life. He has not, indeed, like Homer, or Dante, or Goethe, given in a single work the whole round of human destiny; but as in the Euclidian geometry a circle is not the less a circle because made up of broken lines, so Whittier's poems, though short, still fairly cover the great events in human life-those of home, of church, school, State, and social world-and not only do they deal with these outer forms of society, but they penetrate also to the depths of the heart and conscience of the individual. Shakespeare puts the institution above the moral worth of the individual, but to Whittier there was but one answer to the question which every brave man had to answer in former days-"Which will you obey, conscience or the constitution? The laws of your country bid you pursue, capture, and return the fugitive slave; conscience tells you to rescue the perishing, to bid defiance to legal right that compasses moral wrong. Which will you obey?" What was Whittier's solution of the contradiction? Let him answer for himself: We hunt your bondmen, flying from Slavery's hateful hell, Our voices, at your bidding, take up the bloodhounds' yell, We gather at your summons, above our fathers' graves! From Freedom's holy altar-horns to tear your wretched slaves! We wage no war, we lift no arm,-we fling no torch within The fire-damps of the quaking mine beneath your soil of sin; We leave you with your bondmen, to wrestle while ye can, With the strong upward tendencies and godlike soul of man! But for us and for our children, the vow which we have given For freedom and humanity is registered in heaven; No slave hunt in our borders, -no pirate on our strand! -no slave upon No fetters in the Bay State,- The levelled gun, the battle brand, We may not take: But calmly loyal, we can stand The authority of conscience was with him supreme. His country was struggling in the conflict of a mighty contradiction-freedom and slavery-and he truly saw with Lincoln that right and truth and justice could only prevail when the negative principle of slavery was destroyed. He listened to the still, small voice, but he reëchoed its mandates in trumpet tones, till the whole earth heard and heeded. It was along this line that his emotions were most deeply stirred, so that it is naturally here that we find his most impassioned verse. His moral sense satisfied, he returned to the quieter themes of home and friendship, of love and duty and religious devotion. One mighty collision between the individual conscience and the established law of the land rouses the man to the tempestuous voice of the tornado. In the name of conscience he takes his place with the best of those who have most powerfully sung of sin and fall, of struggle, meditation and redemption. In other relations to the State he is the calm patriot, admonishing his countrymen of the cost of the freedom they treat so lightly. FROM A MEMORIAL DISCOURSE AT BOSTON. Inexpressibly tender and touching to us now are the lines he addressed but a few days ago to his aged friend, Dr. Holmes; they will be treasured as his last words,the swan song of the pious bard : The hour draws near, howe'er delayed and late We leave the works and words we call our own, Brings to the gate no toll; There we leave him, within that Gate of God, and in the peace of that sheltering shadow which is itself the Everlasting Light. There we leave him, and there we hope to find him. And shall we not find him the same man described in 1877 by the noble friend he has gone to join,-William Henry Channing: "An angel of a man! so simple, sweet, strong for the right, clear in conviction, unquailing, yet humble and gentle, fond of children, loving the society of young girls and women ?" But how large and handsome is the finished earthly life! How fair the record traced by a faithful soul! How rich the inward resources! How full and exhaustless the fountain that has sent out such abundant and shining streams! How nicely balanced and rounded the character! How firmly set in a frame of great principles, yet how flexible to the needs of the time! Mystic enough to lie open and passive to the fine influences of that unseen world whence come all wisdom, love, and power; rational enough to be a calm and reflective observer of this world; practical enough to utilize his beautiful dreams as working models of life; mindful of the infinite and eternal, yet employing his full force for each day's work; cosmopolitan in his sympathies, yet intensely American and attentive to the town-meeting; thrilling to far-off events that affect humanity, yet affectionate and fond of those whose eyes looked oftenest into his own, such are the grand features of John G. Whittier. Being dead, he yet shall speak. In widening circles, and as an enduring power for good, shall be heard and felt that simple and faithful testimony to a religion which exalts the spirit above the letter and the life above the form; which emancipates the soul from terror, servility, prejudice, and false authority; which finds revelation in reason and experience, in nature and history; which counts all men as one family, and abhors whatever hurts "the least of these;" which seeks to unite men, not in opinion or by mechanism, but in good-will, respect, and common service; which accepts life as a trust and dedicates it to highest uses, yet counting the present as but an infancy; taking no airs, making no claims, asking no private favors, vaunting no merits, affecting no occult knowledges, but content to leave the destiny of the soul and all else to the wisdom and fairness of the Supreme Management. Such a religion we need alike for home consumption and public use; we need it alike for this world and for whatever world the soul may find in its future migrations. Is it not the religion of the Inward Light ?— Charles G. Ames. LA A TALK ABOUT WORDS. AST summer a friend of ours brought into his house a handful of weeds plucked from his side yard, and turned to the different members of his family with the question, "What is this? Can you tell me the name of this plant?" It is pronounced to be a sort of grass. "But what kind is it? How is it classed ?" he asked. "Oh, I don't know, it is something very common." "What is this plant?" he said, pulling another from his handful. "You can tell me something about this one, for I have seen it at almost every roadside." "Yes, so have I; but I never minded what it was. All those things in your hand are worthless weeds, and I cannot conceive why you should care anything about them." "I do care, for this reason. I am determined to have no more guests whom I cannot call by name. These worthless weeds,' as you style them are all over the premises, and they shall no longer be entire strangers to me. So I am going to consult Gray and other botanical authorities, and make these weeds my summer's study.' And so he did: and he was amply repaid for the time given to such investigations. There are many weeds which overrun our common conversation, and make themselves familiar in our homes, which we had better recognize and classify a little. Let us look at a few of them. The preposition "without " is sometimes substituted for "unless." Without may be used to connect verbs. We ought not to say, "I cannot tell without I go, etc., but "Good" is never an adverb; hence it is not right to say, "My dress fits good," but "My dress fits well." "Got," is a poor, ill-used servant made to do the work of other words. "I have got to do it," persons say, instead of "I ought to do it," or "I must do it." "He has got his lesson," they say, when they mean "learned his lesson. In most cases when "I have got" is used, the simple "I have" would answer the purpose. We advise our young friends to weed out this word "got as much as possible from conversation, and see how much more clearness and force it adds to their expression. "Well" is an inelegant and useless expletive when used at the commencement of a question or remark. "Well, what do you think of it?" WHAT IS EVER SEEN IS NEVER BY CELIA DOERNER. OU may all put your hands behind you, I said to a class in the first year of High School. "Now tell me, John, which of your fingers is longer, the first or the third?" "The first-no, the third-indeed, I don't know." And John looked puzzled. "Mary, which of yours is longer ?" "I'm not sure, but I think it's the first." "What do the others think?" "The third !" "No, the first!" "They're equal!" All these answers were given with evident hesitation. "You may now look at your hands and convince yourselves." All but one of the pupils now decided that the ring-finger was longer than the index finger. One found the two fingers of equal length. I told them in some few hands the index finger is longer. The pupils were amused to think that they had never closely observed their own hands, and I placed on the board the sentence, "What is ever seen is never seen." After what had preceded, it was not difficult for the class to grasp the thought. Now, boys and girls, I shall ask each of you to observe some familiar object more closely than ever before and to write out the result of your observations, together with your reflections on this experiment. The sentence on the board would make a good "Well, I hardly know what to think of heading for the composition." it ?" This is a weed universally found in New England, and the sooner it is expelled the better. A Yankee may be known the world over by passing through this gate "Well" before he enters on what he wishes to say. It does not belong to the "pure well of English undefiled," of which we read; but rather we should beware of Dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up. In some of the Southern States "indeed" is heard so frequently that it loses all its force. "I do indeed," or "Indeed I do," salutes the ear at every turn, until the otherwise emphatic word becomes utterly insigni cant. Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies; - Tennyson. The result was a number of very interesting compositions, containing much that was a surprise and a revelation, even to one who had had some previous experience with the blindness of the seeing. One girl said that she had just found out that the stars shine even in the winter; she had always imagined that they were visible only in summer. As, among other things, I had suggested their observing the heavens, several expressed their surprise and astonishment at the beauty of the starry sky, which they had never before suspected. It was the first time, too, that some of them had noticed that the stars have an apparent motion in the heavens, just as the sun and moon have. Others made discoveries as to the beauties and wonders of some common weeds or insects. One made a study of human ears, and was surprised to find that they differed so much in shape. Another examined a coin, and came to the conclusion that he had never before really seen it. One of the girls told how almost every day |