cannot convey the thing. You must see it, or it is not there. Light is useless to a blind man. So I say as to the popular pedagogical conception of nature study, anybody knows what it is. And it may well be added, that every "anybody's" is different from every other anybody's. I cannot even adequately convey in words my own idea of it. I can feel it, and see it, and live it, but I have difficulty in defining it. Here is an attempt to convey some suggestion of what I have in mind for ideal nature study:

Nature study is the examination of natural objects for your own gratification, to satisfy your own curiosity, to give you something to make your walks for exercise and fresh air more attractive; to free your mind of its work-a-day thoughts, and to supply their place with thoughts of God's work; to lead your attention from the ugliness and the evil that are in the world, to the beauty and goodness that are also in the world; to forget self and the troubles of life, and to sit in the sun, and look at the sky; to wonder if you really understand why it is blue, and why the clouds are white. It is nothing less nor more than taking an intelligent interest in the earth and its products. When you have taught the child to do this, you will have

taught nature study. And when you have taught nature study, you will have taught your pupil to be interested in the objects on the earth in his own vicinage. The result is worth its cost.

Or to express the same thing a little more concisely :

Nature study is the creating and the increasing of a loving acquaintance with nature. This shall begin and continue so informally in love, that, sooner or later, it shall welcome the accompaniment of formal knowledge. Both together, both head and heart, and both in earnest, shall increase our enjoyment of life, and our capacity to enjoy it.

In either case the definition is rather long and entirely superfluous. If you know what the thing is, you do not need the definition; if you do not know, or rather, if you do not feel, it is beyond the power of words to convey the thought.

I

CHAPTER II

"VAT FOR ISH DAT?"

According to one of the New York daily papers, the principal of a large grade-school in that city had a decidedly inquisitive visitor a few days ago.

He was sitting in his office intently poring over reports and excuses, when the janitor swung open the door and announced:

"A lady to see you, sir."

A German woman of ponderous size and waddling gait strode into the room.

Both sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. In her right hand, by her side, she carried a huge lobster, just touching the floor, and swinging in accompaniment with her every pacing step. Her appearance indicated that it was indignation which had separated her from the wash-tub.

She swung the lobster over her head, and slapped it down on the table near the desk with a bang that made the absorbed mind of the principal leap from mental to physical matters.

"Vat ish dat?" shouted the belligerent visitor.

Why-wh-y, that, madam, is a lobster, but"How many leegz has it?"

'Strictly speaking there are ten, but only eight

are"

"How many claws has it?

"The first pair of the ten legs have large claws, the next pair have small claws, and the other two have only

"

"How many eyeez has it?”

"The lobster has two eyes

"Vat color is- -?"

"But wait, madam; before I answer any more questions, please explain why"

"Dat's vat I vant to know-vat for ish dat your teacher ask my Shonny all dese fool questions. I vork so hard at mine vash-tub all the day long, send my boy Shonny here to larn, and your teacher tell him all dat shtuff, and ax him all dese fool questions. Vat for ish dat?"

The reporter who described this interview in his daily paper saw only the humor of the situation. He did not record the principal's explanation, nor the further interrogations of the excited parent. For him it was enough to show the

ludicrousness of the situation. He may not have repeated the words of the conversation verbatim, as a court stenographer would have done, but it is evident to anyone interested in nature in the school-room, that he has portrayed a phase of parenthood in absolute fidelity to fact.

To use a current

That this is truth, plain truth without an element of humor, can be vouched for by everyone who has had even a limited knowledge of what often results from the consideration of natural objects in the school-room. phrase, “This is a practical age." Parents form a jury before which the educator must prove the cui bono. He must show results worth the time consumed. The Why? stares him in the face; he must be ready for each parent who has a "Vat for ish dat?" And if the results are not worth while, there will follow a denunciation, as surely as the effect follows the cause. There is more than one Edward Bok, and more than one anonymous editor to voice the opinion of thousands of mothers, and denounce the overcrowding of the child's mind. There are voters to reject school officers if time consumed is worth more than results. There are superintendents like the one whom I met in Massachusetts,