cases splotched and blotched with red, the under surface of maroon. The leathery leaves seen now have persisted all winter as did those of the saxifrage and arbutus. After the blossoming time, new leaves, soft, daintily folded, down-covered, will appear from the center to take the place of the older leaves, whose work is now over. Blood-root In the "Biglow Papers" by Lowell, Hosea Biglow says: "I, country-born an' bred, know where to find Blood-roots whose rolled up leaves ef you oncurl, In the illustration (Fig. 2) the white pearl is seen emergiug from the tightly twisted leaf which has protected well until now the fragile white blossom. The flower expands gradually into a star-shape and displays in the center a green pod surrounded by a thick circlet of golden stamens (Fig. 2). The duration of the flower is brief, but after the petals have fallen much be learned by observing the changes and relative growth of leaf and pod. The fugacious flower reminds of its near relative, the Oriental Poppy of our gardens. When cultivated the blood root is extremely handsome but loses much of its native delicacy. may us Fig. 2. While the blossom is a type of snowy purity, the root-stock is filled with a reddish juice which exudes when broken, inflicting a bright orange stain upon everything with which it comes in contact. There is a contrast which inclines us to philosophize on "getting at the root of things." "Blood-roots whose rolled-up leaves if you uncurl, Each on 'em's cradle to a baby pearl." The Indian Medicine Men professed a great belief in the "Doctrine of Signs." They believed that the Great Spirit had placed on every plant some mark by which its use could be distinguished. Accordingly, the blood-root was supposed to be a positive cure for hemorrhage. The Spring Beauty In the spring of the year it is quite fitting that we should. go back to the early life of this country which may be looked upon as its spring. The arbutus recalled the Pilgrims; the spring beauty recalls the Indians, who valued highly this little plant not only because of the crisp, nut-like taste of its underground stem but because of its beauty. They have handed down to us a pretty legend, immortalized by the "Children's Poet" in "Hiawatha," under the heading "The White Man's Foot." A version may also be found in "Emerson's Indian Myths." Mighty, Peboan, the winter, scatters around with lavish hand many snowy crystal stars. When, melted by the breath of spring, he is obliged to retreat, he leaves some of these behind him. They are the spring beauties - the Indian Miskodeed blushing that they have been forgotten. Helen Grey Cone in a poem which again takes us back to the early settlement of the country gives a different account : The Spring Beauties The Puritan spring beauties were freshly clad for church The sweet-faced maidens trembled with pretty pink blushes The children will enjoy the symbolism and understand. well from the poem the habit of the plant. The pink lines, "the blushes," are the honey-guides which, by converging, point the way to the nectar at the base of each petal. The hanging down of the bonnets is due to the susceptibility of the flower to the sun's influence. Allow the children to remove their plants or bunches of flowering spring beauties to a dark portion of the room. If the flowers are open they vill close. They are as fickle as the sun himself on an April day. The thick flattened rootstock, from which arises the weak stem with its thin, grass-like leaves, is called a corm. (Fig. 3.) Adder's Tongue The "Doctrine of Signs" invested also the Adder's Tongue with great medicinal qualities. Because the two leaves were somewhat tongue-shaped and mottled with brownish spots after the fashion of an adder's back, tradition had it that a plaster of the leaves applied to a wound made by a snake would extract its poison. seen. The leaves arise from a swollen underground mass, called a bulb, situated six or more inches below the ground. If held up to the light, they show veins which run only in one direction. No network caused by crossing veins is to be Rising from between the leaves is a long stalk bearing at the end a bell-shaped, yellow flower, the sepals of which curl back in the sunshine. The honey sacs are indicated by the spots at the base of the petals. It is a member of the lily family and reminds one of a dwarf, delicate, faded tiger-lily. Burroughs has suggested the pretty name of fawn lily from the spotted leaves which have an alert look. This would be a decided improvement on the misleading term usually applied, namely, "dog's tooth violet." That it is not a violet is self-evident. The "dog's teeth" are presumably the callous projections on each petal. It is also frequently and also incorrectly called cowslip. Cowslips and primroses are common in England. Those of this country came originally from Europe and Asia. In the United States they are confined to the extreme northern portion. The primroses which brighten the florists' windows in early spring are the bona fide representatives of the order. Fig. 3. Spring Beauty with its thick, edible corm. For positive identification of the adder's tongue the botanical name Erythronium Americanum may be useful. Ones (A Recitation) I Cutting down trees spoils the beauty of the landscape. I would not like to live where there were no trees. 2 There are few birds where there are no trees. They have no place to make their homes. 3 Taking away the trees takes away the protection from our tender fruit trees. 4 Where there are no trees the snows melt and go off too rapidly; the moisture that should sink into the soil is carried away in floods. 5 Because our forests are taken away we have severe drouths every year. 6 One full grown elm tree gives out fifteen tons of moisture in twenty-four hours. A large sunflower plant gives off three pints of water in one day. 7 The trees give us lumber, fuel, wood, pulp for newspapers, cork, bark for tanning, wild fruits, nuts, resin, turpentine, oils, and various products for medicines. 8 We should have greater extremes of heat and cold if it were not for the trees and forests. The leaves of trees catch the rain and hold it a little 9 while; then they drop the water a little at a time; this is better for the ground. Easter Egg Rolling The children in Washington have an egg-rolling every Monday after Easter and you may be sure these are happy days for them. Early in the morning these little folks go to the White House park. Each little one carries a basket of colored eggs, all the colors of the rainbow. The little folks roll the eggs down the little hills in the park and over the lawn covered with green grass. By and by a band comes and plays for the children. And if there are any little children living or visiting at this great White House they come out and join in the merry game too. Sometimes the president comes out and bows to them, for he is glad to have them come to his park. And then they take off their hats and cheer him, and after this they begin to go home, with their baskets of beautiful eggs. J. Sterling Morton About Christmas Trees The recent protest of J. Sterling Morton against the cutting of Christmas trees is warmly commended in the West. In his protest he said: "The trees selected for slaughter on this anniversary are always the straightest and most symmetrical. There were last year more than twenty million of Christmas trees cut down and put on the market. The absurdity of celebrating the birth of the Saviour of the world by a wanton waste and extravagance which jeopardizes the welfare of millions of human beings yet unborn is obvious to every thinking man." ང་ F EDITH GOODYEAR ALGER Bennington Vt. IFTY pairs of little hands have tenderly tucked the cherished beans into soft beds of earth or cotton and are itching to pull them up again; fifty small proprietors are most solicitous regarding the welfare of a colony of frogs in an improvised aquarium; jars of twigs in a sunny window are telling wonder stories to watchful eyes; once more the school-room calendar is variegated with pictured notes of bugs, butterflies, turtles, grass blades and returning birds-all this because April is here once more, and half a hundred more little folks are witnessing the delightful miracles of springtime. Early impressions which children thus gain directly from nature possess one peculiar educational significance, sometimes overlooked, in the fact that they constitute the basis of a correct interpretation of much that is rarest and best in the realm of human thought. Emerson's "We see with what is within" never had a truer application than it has most interesting reaction of nature. study upon literature and art. Does not Tennyson's Brook babble more pleasantly to one who in childhood sometime listened to a brook? Breton's Lark, is it not after all a glorified robin, blue bird, or perhaps particularly good natured English sparrow which the child has really seen and heard? Nor is it less true, that the city child who, deprived of real fields and gardens, still watches the sunlight and shadows in even a tangle of bean vines in the school-room window gains a feeling which makes him more sensitive to the beauties of a Turner landscape. It is, however, not only essential that impressions be formed but equally important that the habit of using them in varied relations be gained. We are told that to make a word one's own it must be used at least three times by a somewhat similar process of use impressions become a part of the idea vocabulary. : Opportunities for recalling and applying all the wealth of ideas gained from springtime observations are presented in games, stories, songs, poems, and lessons, which naturally accompany the school work of this season. The above sketch suggests a language exercise in which the children may be led to use a great variety of ideas gained recently from nature study in making the picture seem very real. They are to see with what is within. What is there to see? The whole story of Nature's awakening is it not? This is the country in early springtime. The sun is rising and the warm spring sunshine is waking up the sleeping seeds and buds. It has melted the ice so the little brook goes singing on its way; the brown rushes along the edge of the brook are waving and beckoning to the fishes swimming about in the water, a few little turtles have come maybe, and frogs, too. The buds are beginning to open; the branches are putting on brighter colors; the last little snow blankets left in shaded places have disappeared, while here and there courageous grass blades are making the sunny hillslope ready for the coming of the flowers. A gap in the fence suggests the human element which always appeals strongly to children the path down the hillside leading to the brook is especially interesting. The line of clouds foretelling April showers later in the day, the thicket on the brow of the hill, the group of friendly little trees on the margin of the brook, the birds and distant hilltops all have their meanings. A sure way of arousing dormant ideas is to let each child personify some object in the picture; e.g. one is the sun and tells what he sees and is doing; another chooses to be a fish in the water and tells what a fish sees and does; still another is a pussy willow bush near the brook and has some pretty thoughts to tell. If you could go right through that gate by the old tree what do you think you would find beyond? If you were there what would you like to do, to hear, what would you look for that we cannot see?- Such questions will draw largely upon the children's power to "see with what is within." buds just beginning to peep fish swimming over the stones brown grass peeping out of the snow squirrel chipping water bubbles over the stones bees humming in the fields smell the air hear the branches going together brook dancing in the sunshine One little girl wrote: "I can see the grass just peeping out and the birds trying to find a place to build their nests. I can see trees and buds on them. I can see the mountains far away. I could hear the wind shaking the trees, and the birds singing, and the brook running over the stones." A sketch very much like the above was used in a primary room where the children were learning to write short descriptions. This and thirty more fully as interesting papers were mounted on a chart at the top of which in the teacher's lettering were these appropriate lines: "The tiny brook that lay in trance Beneath the North Wind's spell, Once more upon its way doth dance Its happiness to tell." Should Boys Fight? N the January number of PRIMARY EDUCATION appeared a verbatim copy of an editorial from the Child Study Monthly under the above title with the addition of an emphatic "Yes." In response to the solicitation of the editor of PRIMARY EDUCATION for the opinions of its readers a shower of answers has been received. As they are far too numerous for publication, extracts from a few only are given here. The names of the writers are withheld. "Should Boys Fight?" I feel that there is never a moment in a boy's life when the advice to fight can be anything but an incalculable injury. It is not cowardly to refuse to strike back, it is always the coward who does retaliate; that is his only outlet. A fight must always be conducted in anger, but the boy who controls his anger and dignifiedly walks away from his assailant, thereby showing his contempt for him, is no coward, he is brave; the coward would succumb to his anger and enter the fight with all the weakness of a madman. The brutes when angered, fight to the bitter end; but to what purpose, of what use our God given mind and reason if we cannot teach our children more self-control than the brutes show. "Should Boys Fight? Yes." As I read this editorial a feeling of disappointment stole over me, and I thought to myself, "Have I been wrong all these years! For, of course, that which is found in an educational journal we take for our guide. Isn't the child "by nature" too ready to use his fists? Isn't that what the teacher and parent have to guard against? Why, we gave up the old style of physical exercises because they had too much the action of the pugilist. The most manly and courageous boys I know would scorn a fight. Minnesota TEACHER After eighteen years in the primary school room, I have yet to see the quarrel that could not be satisfactorily settled without a fight, and the boys not helped to be cowards, either. And as for the "bully " I believe there are better ways to "settle" him, than by the so-called manly art of self-defence. I have found by experience, that the only way to train boys for real worth and true character in this world, is to train the judg ment and the will. No parent who compels his boy to go and "trounce his larger antagonist," as the writer says he had lately done, has added one whit to his boy's true courage, or will-power; for it was his willpower that was exercised and not the boy's; and no man ever succeeded in training will in that way. Blessed is that child who has a parent who can teach him early that," Better is he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city," or in other words "Better is he that hath the good judgment, and will-power, and moral courage to endure an insult, than he that pounces upon his antagonist and licks him'." This does not mean that he shall run away from his antagonist. It means that he will conquer his foe while conquering himself. Is this too much to ask of our six-year-olds? Not if they are physically strong enough to beat a larger boy, and intelligent in proportion. Minnesota TEACHER Should boys fight? Yes,-at times, when occasion requires. And I believe occasions do require it. I wonder if there is a school that does not contain one of those boys whom the other boys like to tease, because he is a coward; and if they do not tease him it is because they are prevented by the teacher's interference or the parent's threats, but they despise the boy who has to get the teacher to look after him and dares not assert his rights. I should not like to be the mother of a boy who couldn't "stand up for his rights." I like to see a boy have some "fight" in his composition and to learn to use it with discretion. I wouldn't give much for the boy of no spirit who dares not defend himself or resent an attack on others. I dislike to see a brutal boy who is always ready for a fight but I dislike more to see a boy who is afraid to fight and who is always running to his mother or teacher with the story of his trials. We all know the story," John keeps hitting me," "The boys won't let me go home," etc. I don't encourage fighting. I interfere frequently, when I see it taking place. I strive to inculcate a spirit of kindness and forbearance among schoolmates. I never said to a boy, in so many words, "Go and fight" but I have said to boys who repeatedly came and complained of being assaulted or insulted by boys of their own size, or smaller, "If I were in your place I wouldn't stand it." And I have said it for the boy's own sake. I wouldn't give much for the boy whose mother has to come to school with him lest he should get hit. Teachers all know that the boy whose mother is always coming to complain that her boy got hit or was teased, is the boy who will get hit oftener than any other. I have been surprised and pained to read the editorial from the Child Study Monthly entitled "Should Boys Fight?" The conclusions drawn by the writer could never have been arrived at except through a mistaken conception of courage and a low ideal of manhood. If courage means a display of brute force then a Sullivan or a Sharkey will serve as types of noble manhood. The writer says a boy should be taught that it is "just as cowardly as can be not to strike a boy who insults or bullies him." Was Christ, then, a coward? The man who has tried it knows how much more true courage it requires to "turn the other cheek" than to vent his feeling in blows. Is the world to be conquered by physical or by moral force? If by the latter we can not begin too early to teach the children the distinction between manly courage and animal courage. Utah TEACHER It is very evident from your remarks at the end of the Child Study Monthly editorial that when you went to school, you didn't have three gentle, good little sisters to protect; that you didn't have to go a mile past houses where mean boys lived, and bigger, meaner girls; and that you didn't have long, red, curly hair. But I did! I. PRINCIPAL OF GRADED SCHOOL As to the question, " Shall boys fight?" Emphatically “YES!" Do questions of human justice arise in the affairs of men that make fighting, even homicide, justifiable? Unquestionably. No sane person could deny it. But the advice as to fighting should never be personal; that is, the boy should never be told to whip any particular one of his playmates. If your boy should, at your instigation, chastise an innocent playmate, the harm to the aggressor would be incalculable. Now, as to character, there is no quicker way to make sap-headed idiots than to first make cowards of them. And the fighter is not a nervous wreck, neither is he troubled with hysteria. Illinois TEACHER I have just been reading "Should Boys Fight? Yes" and I want to say "Amen" to the sentiment of it. I know of no boy so sneered at, who so often has to "dodge around the corner," who is so despised by the "other fellows," as the boy who can not, will not, nor may not "take his own part." No boy should ever be compelled to submit tamely to repeated insults. Nothing so lowers his self-respect as to have to be abused by one beneath him. Often "a bully" is settled by one good, thorough drubbing from a fellow-playmate when neither words, threats nor punishments from a teacher would have any weight. We want manly men, noble, citizens, upright and just judges; but we shall never get them in the coming generation unless the child is taught self-respect. These things, or the advisability of retaliation, need not be talked of publicly, but no child should be punished for "taking his own part." Said a prominent physician to me, "I teach my boy to fight for three just causes: first to take his own part; second, to take the part of a weaker boy against a bully; third to take the part of a little girl. Colorado PRIMARY TEACHER These extracts represent fairly the proportion of yeas and nays in this discussion - the nays predominating, thank heaven! It has seemed a strange thing to open letters from women teachers of little children, and read a defence of brutal fighting. It is therefore a solid satisfaction to present at length a closing communication from a man whose intellectual and social standing and wide knowledge of the world entitle him to a respectful, unbiased hearing. The calm, strong presentation of the high ideal of a "moral overcoming through the ruling of one's own spirit" must appeal to the better self of every man and woman of sufficient intelligence and sensibility to be worthy the position of a teacher. The discussion of this subject in PRIMARY EDUCATION closes with this number.- ED. Conquering without Fighting Setting aside the question whether the Child Study Monthly's advocacy of fisticuffing does violence to the principle for which such a magazine might be supposed to stand, let us look at the essential question. The editorial says that a mother ought, for her boy's sake, to be willing to sit at a window and "see her boy fight like a fiend outside." Further, that "the most cruel thing a parent can do is to bring his child up to be a coward;" and still further, that a boy should know that it is just as cowardly as can be not to strike a boy who insults or bullies him!" Granting that it is a "cruel thing" for a parent to bring his child up to be a coward, is it true that a refusal to strike, even in self-defence, is essentially cowardly? Is it true that the exercise or non-exercise of brute force, or even animal dexterity alone, determines cowardice or courage? Does deliverance from insult or bodily peril depend altogether on fight or flight? Is there no such thing as a manly, moral victory without the use of fist or weapon? Is not the "bully" proverbially a coward? And must a coward be met only with his own weapons? Is there no other alternative than fighting or cowardice? Is the highest ideal of manliness and courage borne in the clenched fist? Heaven forbid ! I suppose it is of no use to remind the Child Study Monthly that it has been claimed on good authority that "a soft answer turneth away wrath;" that "he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city;" that we are told "whosoever smiteth thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also ;" that we should "render to no man evil for evil;" and that we should "overcome evil with good." These Scripture mottoes are doubtless regarded as theoretical, ideal, and impracticable. But however hard it may be to live up to such ideals under the pressure of temper from within and fiends from without, if the ideal is correct it ought at least to be inculcated as an ideal, and the strength of the child developed in the direction, not of contempt for it, but of respect. Is this practicable? Must the child be taught that his only alternative is to be brutal or cowardly, or can he be shown that he ought, at best, to be neither? Can he be inspired to essay a victory over himself and his tormentor by moral attitude? I do not hesitate to say that he can. The very lowest order of bravery is that which displays itself in blows; the highest order, that which shows itself in a firm moral attitude. Suffering there may be in the latter case, but suffering of one kind or another there must be in either case. The fighting boy suffers, whether he knows it or not. He at least suffers from the lowering of his moral standards. But the victory that comes through a moral overcoming, through the ruling of one's own spirit, through the facing of threats or blows without striking back, is an infinitely more glorious victory than that which may be gained through mere physical prowess. And this is not only possible, but it is the sort of victory that has been realized all down the ages, and is realized to-day by many a highminded boy and man. Take the following case : I knew a boy of seven years who was continually bullied by one into whose companionship he was unavoidably thrown. The two could play together so long as the little "bully" could forget his propensity and be decently companionable. The sufferer finally went to his father for advice. Entire avoidance of the other boy was impossible, even while his roughness was intolerable. The father's advice was something like this: "I do not want you to run. Stand your ground; show him that you are not afraid of him, but do not strike him." So far as I know, the trouble was abated, if not practically cured, without fight, flight, or cowardice. His teacher once saw the little victor surrounded by boys trying to goad him to fight. He simply stood his ground with dignity and composure, saying, "I do not fight." I know of a more recent case in which a group of young bullies openly expressed their astonishment and chagrin when the little boy who was the object of their intended assault put himself in the very position into which they had expected to force him by pommelling. It was a diplomatic as well as a moral victory. That the little hectors were in the best sense conquered by being morally outwitted, they showed in their expressions of disappointment. It is true that the teacher under the pressure of the difficulties of maintaining discipline in a large school is in a different situation from the parent dealing with a single child, but the teacher's peculiar difficulties do not appear to me to affect the principles involved in this case. It is as easy and as essential for the teacher as for the parent to hold up the ideal that the best defence lies in an attitude of courageous moral manliness that is above meeting a pugilist with pugilism, and that cowardice is not the only alternative of pugnacity. The teacher as well as the parent can teach the boy that a bully is a coward. It may be argued that it is not as easy for the harassed teacher as for the parent to hold up this ideal, but it is certain that neither the parent nor the teacher will do it so long as the ideal or principle itself remains undiscerned. The Child Study Monthly appears to fail at just this point, since it seems to argue that fighting has no other alternative than cowardice. It overlooks the fact that there is a fighting as well as a fleeing coward, and that the best bravery neither fights nor runs away. Waiving the question of the ultimate legal and moral right of self-defence in assault, which I am not denying, I wish to make the simple point that there is such a thing as victory without fighting. Moreover, that such victory may be, and often is, the most permanent and far-reaching in its results, to say nothing of its being the most ennobling to all parties concerned. One fight is sure to beget another, sooner or later, whereas silence, ignoring, good-humored passivity, refusal to fight, is too uninteresting to the fighter to excite belligerency. To a fighting man a non-resistant is too tame an opponent to be worthy of sustained attention. If a teacher must advise a boy to strike in an extreme case of self-defence, it ought not to be put on the ground that the only alternative of the fighting spirit is the cowardly spirit. Nor should the advice to strike rest there. It is the duty of the parent or teacher who, rightly or wrongly, feels compelled to advise fighting, to insist on the probability of moral victory without coming to blows. If bodily castigation is not among the lower methods of conquest, then why has the school virtually abolished corporeal punishment? To argue that the teacher who flogs is not to be regarded as "fighting," is not to the point. It is not a question of terms, but of deeds. There is something about the use of the fist or the cowhide which is recognized as a low form of coercion or corrective influence. And if it is low for the teacher, it cannot be less low for the pupil, no matter how the purpose or provocation may differ. If " child-study," as that term is now generally understood, has any definite service to perform, it must be as a handmaid to education. The modern educational ideal is the development of character or education of the will; and while it necessarily includes the physical and the intellectual, it is ultimately ethical or moral. It would seem, then, that the child should be trained toward the resistance of internal and external evil by sheer force of moral character, rather than by the exertion of mere physical power. If childstudy does not tend this way, the modern educational ideal must be wrong, and we ought to hesitate before we blame the Child Study Monthly's editorial for seeming to be a retrospect of the Middle Ages rather than a prevision of the twentieth century. But notwithstanding the large endorsement which this antique ideal will undoubtedly have, I am sure the signs of the times point to a growing recognition of the fact that it is not necessary that one should be pugilistic in order to prove that he is not a coward. And what is the significance of all the talk of national disarmament if it is not in the direction of the recognition |