very vague notions as to where the sun rises or sets at different times of the year and in what part of the heavens he may be looked for at different hours of the day. In stating geographic distances feet and miles are the most useful measures. In cities fifty feet, the usual width of a lot, 60 feet, the usual width of a street, and 300 feet, the usual length of a block or square, lead up to 330 feet or one-sixteenth of a mile. In the country, roads are usually one mile or half a mile apart, 5,280 or 2,640 feet, some a quarter of a mile, 1,320 feet.

Definitions are often the bane of good teaching. When presented before the things defined they are an abomination; when made by the pupil himself from direct observation of the things they are valuable as exercises in language, and as clarifiers of the pupil's thought. As soon as made they become useless. We never think of making a definition of book, pencil, cap, button, or of anything else with which we are perfectly familiar. The old geographies began with several pages of formal definitions of common features, as river, lake, island, cape, peninsula, strait, etc., and millions of children have learned and recited them without being able to recognize either feature when they saw it. A child may catch the idea from a definition but there is no assurance that he will, and the idea at best must be a vague one compared with that caught from the thing. A class of teachers was once asked, "What would be the best way to teach a child the idea of a flood-plain?" One answered that she would make a model of it in sand. It was only after several minutes reflection that it dawned upon another as a happy thought that he would take the child out and show him a flood-plain. This illustrates how far from the minds of many teachers is the simple, direct, common-sense method of teaching by things. But I hear a hundred teachers say, "There is no flood-plain near my school, and if there were, the parents or the trustee or the superintendent would object to my taking the children out." The first statement may be doubted: floodplains, although not universal, are very common. The latter statement is, in too many cases, true. How much the teacher may do to overcome this obstacle will not be discussed here; but even it, strongly entrenched as it may seem, does not prevent the teacher from doing realistic teaching. Simple water poured upon the table or floor may be made to assume all the plane forms which arise from the relations of land and water. A little sand or clay may be put into all the forms of relief. A combination of water and clay may reproduce the whole face

of the earth. When the child has learned the form or feature by seeing it in the field or in miniature, he can satisfy the teacher that he knows it by making a definition. The little Irish boy who said that "an island is a part of the sea that hasn't any water into it," knew the thing, and made just as serviceable a definition as any.

PICTURES.

All this work is essential with any book and can be done as well with none. Our Indiana texts do as much realistic teaching as it is possible for books to do, and by means of pictures. This is far from comparable in efficiency with field work or even modelling. A picture is not a presentation of a thing, but a re-presentation of it, and cannot give so vivid and unmistakable an image. Pictures, like words, may be and often are misunderstood. Savages and uneducated persons often fail to see any meaning in a picture. Children sometimes display a similar disability. Every adult can recall strange and absurd misinterpretations of pictures of which he was guilty in childhood. But in spite of these defects, pictures are a valuable aid to realistic teaching. In the opening pages of our textbooks which are devoted to fundamental ideas constant reference is made to the pictures displayed there. No feature is introduced or described without one or more pictures, and by the use of the Index other illustrations of the subject may be found. It does not seem possible that any healthy-minded child could read and study such pages as those on the subject of mountains without looking at the pictures and spending more time upon them than upon the text; yet there are many adult students who habitually read a page or a book without a glance at the illustrations, and are scarcely conscious of their existence. The explanation probably is that such persons have never learned to interpret pictures; they mean little or nothing to them and are therefore uninteresting. The teacher should know whether or not his pupils can read pictures.

MAPS.

One of the difficulties inherent in the subject of geography is the fact that most of its material is large and distant and cannot be brought under direct observation. This makes it all the more necessary that whatever realistic work is possible should be done. The difference between geography with it and geography without it cannot be overestimated; but after all is done the greater part of the earth must be seen

representatively. For this purpose no device is so efficient as the map. Most people can use a map, though it is often in an awkward, haphazard, blundering way. A map is less natural and graphic, and more artificial and conventional than a picture. It is a peculiar printed language and must be learned before it can be read. We do not expect children to read the printed text until they have been taught, yet we often ask them to interpret the ideas expressed by a map without any previous instruction in map reading. The result is that most students are very poor map readers; they are unable to get as much information from a map as from the printed text, when the reverse should be the

case.

A map is a drawing designed to show the location, direction, distance and area, in a word the distribution of features upon a horizontal plane. Take any map, say the map of North America in the Advanced book, and try to write out in words all the information given by it. The map expresses in one page what would require many pages of text to express, and does it in such a manner that a general view of the whole or a particular view of any detail may be had at a glance. The whole of distributive geography, or the arrangement of features upon the face of the earth, should be learned from maps. To try to get it from any other device is a waste of time and energy; and distributive geography is the solid foundation of the whole science. If every pupil left the grades with the ability to read maps readily and correctly it would be of more practical value to him than all the other knowledge of geography he usually does leave with. The best way to get a correct understanding of a map is to make one of some very simple area at first, as the top of a desk or table with a few objects placed upon it. One caution is to be added to the suggestions on pp. 18 and 19 of the Introductory book: let all maps be drawn and read at first in a horizontal position. After the essential concept is well fixed in mind the teacher may show the convenience of hanging them up. Do not teach that the top of the map is north, because in so many cases it is not true. Any part of the map may be north according to convenience, but the points of the compass should always be plainly marked by an arrow or cross. This is heresy but that does not prevent it from being true.

Young students are to be map users rather than map makers and map drawing should never be made an end in itself, but only, like any other language, a means of fixing and expressing thought. A good map should show all that is necessary to make itself intelligible. This in

cludes (1) the label or name of the region shown, (2) the points of the compass, (3) the scale, (4) an explanation of any peculiar or unusual signs used, and (5) the name of each feature. Location is shown by the sign and name; as, a dot, circle or star for a city, a blue line for a river, etc. Direction is shown upon every map in our texts, except small plans and insets, by parallels and meridians, which is the only accurate way. Suppose a child who has been taught that the top of the map is north undertakes to read the map of North America. His interpretation of directions will be correct only in the lower middle. He will say that Asia is north of Alaska, when it is really west. Perhaps latitude and longitude should not be taught in the primary grades, but the use of meridians and parallels may be and must be learned before maps can be used to advantage. Among educated persons, graduates of secondary schools and colleges, vague and erroneous notions of latitude and longitude are common. The ideas that parallels and meridians are actual lines upon the earth, that there are no more of them than are shown upon the map, that they are movable and may be drawn anywhere, are some of the variations from blank ignorance inherited from a teaching of words instead of things in childhood. That they are mathematical lines devised for the purpose of locating places accurately upon the earth and upon maps, and the simplicity and convenience of the device come to many as a revelation.

Distances and areas are shown upon a map by the scale, expressed in our texts by a graduated line. The teacher should see to it that the pupils can use this scale readily. Maps cannot all be drawn upon the same scale, but they might be made more uniform instead of varying according to the size of the page. For instance, the map of South America in the Advanced book is on a little larger scale than the map of North America, the scale of Asia is smaller, of Europe nearly twice as large, and of Africa nearly the same. Similar differences occur among the maps of groups of the United States. Thus misconceptions are sure to arise which the insertion of a comparative area in one corner cannot correct. Only the vigilance of the teacher and hardly that can prevent the pupil from getting the idea fixed that New England is as large as the Middle Atlantic states and larger than Texas. In political maps generally colors mean nothing, but in the map of Africa half its story will be missed unless notice is taken of the legend or explanation. No one can read a map to good purpose who goes at it blindly, hit or miss,

but a few minutes' attention to the label, scale, direction lines and explanation makes a trained student master of its contents.

Two sorts of maps are needed in every schoolroom, small scale maps, like those in our texts, for close personal study by the pupil, and large scale wall maps for use in recitation. One absolute rule which can never be disregarded with safety is that no lesson in distributive geography should ever be studied or recited without the con

stant use of the map. A student who, in reciting upon the topic of the rivers of the United States,

locates the Hudson Bay system in New York because the Hudson river empties into that bay, betrays the fact that she has studied the text without reference to the map and has learned empty words instead of things. The map must stand as the most realistic representation available for large areas, and no one need fear the bugaboo of "the map idea." A clear map idea of the United States or of Europe is not the best attainable under favorable conditions, but it is superior to the idea generally attained under the conditions of the best public schools.

presenting these papers on drawing, there is no theorizing, for the work has been done in the public schools of Madison, Ind., and has stood the test of actual trial. Nothing will be given that has not been first presented to our grades, and what has been accomplished here in one year can be done any place where the teachers are earnest and enthusiastic in this particular branch. As planned, I feel confident that our course of study can be easily adapted to the needs of the district school.

In sense training, drawing certainly is of great value. It is not the aim of supervisors of drawing to train artists, although incidentally artists may be trained. First of all it helps children to see. The observation lesson is always an accompaniment to the actual drawing lesson, as the latter depends upon the former. More than this, the study of drawing creates a love of the beautiful and a desire to find the beautiful even in homely objects. Is there anything then, more worthy a regular place in the school curiculum, than drawing?

During the month of September we took up the study of grasses, grain, leaves and fall flowers. There are some cuts accompaning this article showing some actual drawings by children in first and second grades.

The work for October embraced some fall flowers. The goldenrod, purple aster, the seed pods of the milkweed, the gourds, etc., made very satisfactory drawings. The work as planned for November will prove very interesting, as this month is rich in materials. The great variety in fruits and vegetables gives fine opportunities in selecting interesting and beautiful objects. The object work for the first part of the month should gradually lead up to a Thanksgiving pic

ture which will represent the fruits of the harvest.

Little children are very fond of illustrating the stories that are told them, and much good busy work can be done in this way. Let the work be the free expression of the children, and to secure this the work should have but little criticism. A hint or suggestion may be made that will prove helpful, but nothing should be done in a critical way. The first drawings will be crude; we can expect nothing else.

Let us suppose that a lesson is to be given on the pear. Place several pears in different parts of the room, and have the children select the one they can see best. Ask them to look at the pear carefully, as you mean them to tell you something of its appearance.

What do you notice about the shape?

The pear is bigger at the bottom than it is at the top.

What else?

The pear has a stem. It is yellow. One side is red. It is a little bit flat at the bottom. It is a little flat on top, too; or it looks that way. Perhaps some one will say, "It has a blossom on the lower part." Likely as not the pear will be resting on the blossom end.

"Can you see the blossom?” "No, ma'm, but it's there."

"That is true, but we are only to tell of what we really see."

In the same way lessons on the apple, on the grape, on a number of vegetables, may be given by teachers who have had but little training in drawing, and the results will prove satisfactory

I am sure.

When a group of objects is given, place them in such a manner that good balance is secured,

of Thought, after severely criticising grammarians for their superficial, formal, and mechanical treatment of the subject of technical grammar, says that their difficulty is that they have divorced grammar from logic. This is evident to one who has made a study of the subject as based upon logic. No one who sees the relation between logic and grammar will say, for example, that the sentence has two principal parts —a subject and a predicate. The sentence is a mere instrument for expressing the thought. It is only a symbol which stands for the thought. Since the thought has three elements-a thought subject, a thought predicate, and a thought relation, the sentence must have three parts-not three words necessarily-but three parts-a part corresponding to the thought subject and expressing it, the subject of the sentence; a part corresponding to and expressing the thought predicate, the predicate of the sentence; and a part corresponding to or expressing the thought relation, the copula of the sentence. This is the only way one can reason it out and if one divides the sentence into two parts, he must divorce his grammar and logic, leave logic out of the question, and deal with the sentence arbitrarily or mechanically. That grammarians have done this very thing is evident from the fact that most of them admit incidentally that the sentence has three parts but say that it is not essential to distinguish between the copula and predi

cate.

Very few grammarians make any distinction between the two sentences following: (1) The flag is red, white, and blue. (2) The boy is honest, industrious, and obliging. In fact, I think almost without exception, they would classify both of them as simple sentences with compound predicates, which indicates again that they have divorced grammar from logic and are dealing simply with the form of the sentence. Their analysis is an eye analysis and not a mind analysis. They do not see the thought back of the sentence. The two sentences do look alike. The subjects are similar, the copulas are the same word, and each one has three adjectives in the predicate, joined by the coordinate conjunction, "and." So far as the outward appearance and form of the sentences indicate anything they are alike, and this is the reason why grammarians call them simple sentences with compound predicates.

One who sees the thought back of the sentence and finds in the thought the explanation of sentence forms, will not be satisfied with this classification of the two sentences, because he will see that, while the two sentences look alike, the

thoughts are different. In the first, the expression, "red, white, and blue," expresses one idea. The flag is this color-red, white, and blue, and one cannot expand it and say, "The flag is red, the flag is white, and the flag is blue." The sentence does not mean that. The flag is one color and that is red, white, and blue combined. So this is in fact a simple sentence with a com pound predicate. But the expression, "honest, industrious, and obliging," in the second sentence, does not express one idea. There are three separate attributes affirmed of the thought subject and the sentence means, "The boy is honest, the boy is industrious, and the boy is obliging." It is, therefore, an abridged compound sentence, not a simple sentence with a compound predicate.

Grammarians fail to make a distinction between the thoughts expressed by such sentences as those given above and so fail to distinguish between the two sentences. They judge sentences by their outside appearances only and thereby defeat the main purpose of the study of technical grammar. Their grammar degenerates into a mere play with words, a mumbling of formulas, a repetition of rules and definitions, a dealing with husks and hulls without any spirit or life.

It might seem to be unimportant as to whether the child in the study of grammar classifies such sentences as simple sentences with compound predicates or abridged compound sentences and so it is. It matters little, so far as the name is concerned, whether the child calls the sentence "Five and four are nine," a simple sentence with a compound subject or an abridged compound sentence. But that the child see the distinction between this sentence and the sentence Wood and coal sell readily," is very important, because if technical grammar does not give the child a mastery over the sentence as an instrument in expressing thought, if it does not help him to express thought more accurately in sentences and to obtain from the sentences of others more accurately the thought which they express, if it does not help him to make fine distinctions in thought and to use words more skilfully in conveying these distinctions to others, it is worse than useless. It is a waste of time. This is the essence of the study of technical grammar. The thought is the end and the sentence only the means. The sentence is of no use to the child except in its relation to the thought, which it expresses. I am using these points merely to illustrate the truth of Mr. Everett's charge, that grammarians have divorced grammar from logic.