daily and nightly prison! A few minutes' walk, and the narrow streets and alleys streets and alleys were left. Fresh, sweet breezes, green sheltering shrubbery, comfortable benches and shaded walks-these made the city's Public Playground. Here were tired mothers, a child in arms, three or four more pulling at their skirts, dragging their way to a quiet seat; weary fathers, their pipes in hand, smoking with comrades; sweethearts, finding their trysting place. The noise of the great city was muffled at the bank of the river, and the ever refreshing winds were felt, if anywhere, here; and upon all the moon shone down as free as upon the Four Hundred in the favored part of the city. Surely Sarah would be safe here, away from the foul odors and the evil saloons a few blocks distant. The Lady of the SetThe Lady of the Settlement House peered into each child's face, but the little "hunchyback" was not among them. It was useless to look for her. She was lost, as one can only be lost in the heart of a great city. Suddenly a crowd gathered, pushing and hustling. A child's voice rang out clear as a bell, "My Gal's a Highborn Lady,”—and then on and on, in song after song, of the low dance hall order. Coarse laughter followed quick on each, applause and cheers spurring on the child to do her best at her worst. After an instant's hesitation over the uselessness of such interference, the Lady of the Settlement House walked into the crowd and said a few words to Sarah. The child wrinkled her brow and with a questioning look said, "Oh, it's you! over to your house?" " Come A derisive laugh from some lounger sounded its note of opposition. "Don't yer go, Sarah; don't yer go back on us," and pennies rained into the child's hand from the crowd. In an instant the child of ten was a grown woman. The love of power was in her, as in any belle of the ballroom. The keenness of her insight was startling. She was perplexed, but she must assert herself. Immediate action was necessary. Something troubled her. That "kindergartin" lady was in the way. She didn't belong on the street corner; that throne of power Sarah claimed as her own. She cast a quick glance each way from her black eyes, then, wheeling on the intruder, she The As she entered the settlement house the cozy living room seemed more attractive than ever before to her, with its simple furnishings, harmonious in tone, good pictures on the walls and growing plants. white, glistening keys of the open piano were tempting. In an instant the street was forgotten and the sound of revelry were drowned in the wordless songs of Mendelssohn. Presently she was aware of some one near her and then came the touch of a small hand. "Hold on a bit; what's that yer givin' us-dumb singin'? I watched yer lips all the time, but yer never said nothin'. Go on, it makes my back feel better-it aches awful bad tonight." Her The child's face had changed; the excitement of the street had disappeared. flushed cheeks were now pale, the light in her dark eyes had gone out, and in its place was a dumb pleading, a hunger which none but a mother's love could fully satisfy. A few days later the Lady of the Settlement House interviewed Granny Stepniak with a view to taking over the charge of the child and providing her with proper medical treatment, but found the old dame obdurate and intractable. She stood in the midst of her disordered washtubs and shook her fist, thus emphasizing her Russian dialect. The interpreter, a good natured neighbor, softened many of the curses before they were made plain to the visitor. It was no love for Sarah that kept the woman from granting permission to take her to the hospital. She knew the money's worth of the hunchback, and recognized that a cure would lessen her market value, and place the child beyond her power and use. However, the law was on the side of the proposed change, and, best of all, so was Sarah. She stood in the midst of the curious by-standers, each of whom volunteered an opinion. "Hospital!"—"Bad place!”—“Ne ver come back!"-"Cut up!"-"Killed!" Nothing seemed to startle Sarah, or daunt her courage. She whirled and faced them all, and, shaking her finger at them, said: "Go home, the whole o' yer. Granny, Granny, I've told yer before I wouldn't stan' yer, and I won't now." Then with a sudden Then with a sudden transition from despair to submission she answered, "I'll be ready at noon to go to the hospital," and out of the house she flung, to make sure that force should not detain her. At the hour appointed Sarah was in a kind neighbor's care. She had housed the fleeing child many times before, fed her, and even clothed her. The neat gingham dress, clean underclothes and simple hatthe first time she had ever been seen in a hat transformed the little waif and made her look more childlike. The ride to the children's hospital was a long one. Nothing escaped Sarah's attention, from the kind trolley conductor, who lifted her gently out of the crowd, to the passing show, which held her speechless, as street after street of stately houses, flowering windows and fine equipages met her wondering eyes. The only time she spoke was when the fares were collected and then she looked anxiously at the strange pocketbook and said: "Will there be enough?" It was free day for the crippled little ones. The door of the out-patient department of the great hospital swung wide open as the children came out, some with parents, others with brothers, sisters or friends. Sarah took it all in as she wandered at will through the large waiting room, gazing curiously at the different children, and talking most familiarly with the whitecapped nurses. After a two hours' wait the dressing room was free. The nurse took off the little clothes, and Sarah was ready for the surgeon. The broken back lay exposed like a gnarled and twisted tree trunk. The child was on familiar terms at once, as the strong, kind face of the doctor bent over her. "Look me all over, Doc. an' do the best yer kin." The decision of the doctor was brief, and his words were final. "Crippled for life," was the verdict, but it never reached Sarah's ears. She was sleeping sweetly in the nurse's arms, tired out from the long wait for her turn. A year later, as the steerage passengers of one of the great ocean liners were pouring into the enclosures of Castle Garden, a Polish Jew pushed and huddled his way through the throng. Israel Stepniak had come back from Russia. The wife, Leah, had died in the far away home town, and Israel and little Boab were returning once more to the great country where money flowed so freely. "Vat we do, fadder?" little Boab questioned. "Go find Sarah?" What was the child saying? "Find Sarah?" What for? Was she not a useless cripple? The "Sarah sing for Boab, fadder?" child had struck it. Sing she could, and like a bird set free on a spring morning. Why not have her sing for money? Israel Stepniak fell into a day dream, while little Boab trudged on beside him. Not many days passed before father and son were knocking at a low door in one of the blind alleys of Leverett street. A sharp faced woman opened it and peered out. "No," she snapped in response to the request if Granny Stepniak were at home. "She's a deader-laid off last spring. The little hunchback's bundled off to some of your new fangled hospitals." Israel and little Boab turned away. Only the recording angel knows whether one thought or feeling of kinship stirred their hearts. They themselves were homeless, sick at heart and hungry. As for Sarah-she did not need them. She had never known what care, protection and love meant in a child's life until the cozy Cottage Hospital among the hills took her into its shelter. Winter, with its mantle of glistening snow, and Christmas eve, with all its mystery, had come to Sarah. The house mother had gathered her small group of children around the open fire in the home room. The story was told of the star in the East, the cradle in Bethlehem, the brooding love of motherhood, the wise men with their rich gifts, and the meaning of the birthday of the Savior of all mankind. The children's eyes glowed as the marvelous tale was unfolded to them. Sarah stood apart from the others, looking out into the dark night and watching the bright stars sparkling in the sky, thinking hard, all the while of the wonderful story she had heard. "The Star of Bethlehem," she murmured, "is my star." When Christmas morning dawned Sarah's turn had come most surely. Was it fairyland, she thought, as the big doors rolled back and the children gazed upon a sight which fairly took their speech away. The living room had been transformed in the night by the many nurses into a forest of pine boughs, roped with evergreen, and the glistening leaves and bright red berries of the holly completely screened all the walls and windows. In the center of the room stood a spreading tree, stately and tall, reaching to the very ceiling. Hundreds of little lights shown out from every twig, glistening snow drops seemed to sparkle on the pine needles, and the child wondered what were those shining baubles and hearts and fruits and flowers that were a part of each branch, and who were those. marvelous beings, tucked away so snugly in the green boughs, dolls dressed like fairies and live babies, and real grown up ladies. Books filled with gay pictures looked out at her. Dolls' cribs, chairs, trunks, everything that belonged to happy childhood that wonderful tree seemed to hold within its great sheltering arms. When it dawned on the little invalids that the tree was actually shedding its precious belongings into their own small laps, a shout of joy went up that was seldom heard in the hospital ward. Suddenly a child's voice was heard sing ing, above the hubbub. Sarah had spied the golden star on the pinnacle of the tree. Her voice had grown in strength and mellowed in sweetness, and her happy soul came out in the words of the Christmas carol: Shine out oh, blessed Star, Christ the Lord is born. "Yes," she cried. "It is my star, the Star of Bethlehem!" The Christmas tree had apparently been stripped of all gifts and the nurses and children had wandered into the corridors, the latter to play with their newly acquired treasures and the former for a quiet chat before the last stroke of the gong should sound the children's bedtime. Sarah lingered behind the rest, intent on watching the final flicker of her star high up on the topmost branch of the tree. "Oh," she murmured to herself, "if the star would only come down to me. I wonder if I shake the tree softly it might not drop, drop way off, down into my lap and I could hold it and perhaps keep it for my own. In the carol it says, 'Blessed Star, promise of the dawn!' What does dawn mean?" Sarah was lost in thought and her active brain was at work over the problem of steadying herself with her crippled back in order to dislodge the shining star from its high perch with one of the long poles near at hand. Suddenly a warm bod pressed against her and turning from the tree she looked into the flushed and eager face of the baby of the hospital, little Francis, the three year old pet of all the nurses. "See the dolly by the star high awav, can't weach it," said the baby. "Francis loves dollies," and throwing his strong well knit little body with all his force against the tree he strove to shake the overlooked doll from its branch. The stately tree did not move but a bright light like the flash of a meteor seemed to spring out of the dark green branches and quickly enveloped the child. Sarah took it all in at a single. glance. Little Francis was on fire, his thin white frock having come in contact with some unnoticed smouldering candle. Not a sound escaped from Sarah's lips, nor did she hesitate a moment. Lifting her woolen skirts she literally enveloped the baby and throwing her long thin arms around him she covered him completelv-as an eagle might cover her young. and fell with her precious burden to the floor, senseless. It had all happened in an instant and no one had taken in the tragedy, but the sound of the fall brought the nurses to the scene. Baby Francis was creeping out from under the huddled form of Sarah, more frightened than hurt and cried out. "Me want dolly on tree. Sarah not get dolly for Francis." The nurses' comprehension was quick, for Sarah did not move, and closer examina tion showed the injury done the crippled back by her effort to save the burning child. As the nurse bent over to listen to the weakened heart, Sarah opened her large, questioning eyes and turning feebly toward her hummed the next few lines of the favorite carol, "Far through the shining sky "Tell me the last verse," she almost whispered as her tones grew weaker. "You know it begins, 'Hail to the Holy Child.'" The whisper ceased. Sister Agatha bent close to Sarah's ear and sang softly the closing lines. "Hail our Lord and King, Wise men and shepherds mild As she lingered on the last words the small head fell back, the speaking eyes opened in a look of happy surprise and the little body grew limp and lifeless in her arms. Sarah had rendered her tribute of the greater love. THE DOH-DOO FAIRIES NEW MUSICAL PLAYS FOR THE KINDERGARTEN BY J. VAN BROEKHOVEN A SERIES III FTER the class has become familiar to a certain extent with the three tones of the scale Doh, Re, Mi, so that the children will be able to imitate the pitch of these three lower tones of the scale of D major, when the tones are sounded on the tubes, bells or piano, the other tones of the scale should be intro duced, as being the voice of the different members of the Doh-Doo fairy family Doh, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, and ending with the higher tone, representing fairy mother Doo. If the class is large enough each child can be asked to take one of the fairy names, and the teacher may represent father Doh, and mother Doo, or any of the other fairies not assigned to a child. There are many ways in which a useful musical play can be invented by the application of these eight tones to an interesting exercise, in which ear-training, tonememory, and various psychological influences can be developed. A child's auditory perception is most keen at this early stage of its existence. It learns to know perfectly the sound of its mother's voice, and continually exercises its hearing faculty in every sound it utters, even at the age of three months. In fact the child's hearing is far more acute in its early life than at a later period, when it begins to perceive things with the eye and other senses. But the ear ever remains very sensitive to impressions, and if this fact is well understood and the proper exercise employed to cultivate more judiciously and properly the sense of hearing at this early stage, the child's auditory nerve will be stimulated to greater attention and activity by a training combining two functions: the physical and mental. This is obtained by these simple musical plays. But their practical value depends on the proper and progressive application having in view the greater cultivation of the ear to a finer phase of discrimination. After the class can reproduce a tone sounded on the tubes, a piano, or by the voice of the teacher, each child should be given a tone and its fairy name to memorize. So that when the teacher sounds a particular tone the child having this particular tone should answer by singing the fairy name and its pitch. To do this the child must be made familiar with its own tone, and be able to recognize it or its own fairy tone when the tone is sounded. This requires some practice, but the proper kind of a teacher who understands the subject. and is able to interest the children in a play of this sort, will have no difficulty in achieving excellent results. It is a more difficult matter to call a particular musical fairy without sounding the tone and have the child who represents this fairy answer by singing its fairy name in the exact pitch of the tone located in the scale. And yet this can also be achieved. recall the sound of a voice, or recognize an object by its sound, it acn also acquire the fine distinction of being able to conceive the sound, recall its name, and produce its pitch. I would advise any one who is inclined to apply the suggestions here presented, to continue the exercise just described until the child or class has acquired a sufficient ear training to be able to produce the name and pitch of the tone called for by the teacher. It must be emphasized that in an exercise of this nature the greatest attention of the class is demanded. The teacher should therefore employ every possible device to get the child's attention by arousing his curiosity as to which tone will be sounded. If a teacher can fix the children's attention towards the anxious expectation of the tone to be sounded, the child's whole mental state is in a state of receptivity, and the psychological effect of the tone heard will be enormously increased in educational value. The child is not only expecting its own tone-of which it is trying to be conscious, but it also gives its attention to tones which are not its own tone. The whole mental attitude is thus one of wideawake discrimination. And such an attitude is hardly to be aroused by any other sense perception than that of delicate hearing. Furthermore, this playful exercise serves as a training in will power, ambition, concentration, and keenness of perception; all associated with class work in which the individual child has an opportunity of exercising its powers without coming in sensative comparisons with other children. The valuable phases here pointed out are but a few of the many that a good kindergartner, having but a nominal musical training, could employ with most excellent and gratifying results. A CHRISTMAS CAROL In an Infant's School, it is advisable to give the month of December up to the idea of Christmas and all its associations. Many of the children in Council Schools are very poor, and have little chance to catch the real Christmas spirit at home, or share in the Christmas joy. We therefore provide it for them as fully as we can in school. Nature study is amply provided for by the subject of evergreen trees, shrubs, and plants. The fir, pine and yew trees; the holly with its prickly leaves and shining scarlet berries, which provide the birds with a Christmas feast; the climbing ivy; the historic mistletoe with all its old associations-all these will be brought under consideration. Such subjects as these provide excellent material for brushwork, drawing and clay-modelling. It is a good plan to let the children make Christmas cards for their parents, by painting or coloring (according to their age and ability) some simple subject on cardboard or stout paper. Hans Andersen's story of "The Fir Tree" is a very good one for the last week of the term. Previous to this the older children might take "Baldur the Beautiful" as a continuous story. The teacher should not content herself with reading it in a shortened prose form, but should also read Matthew Arnold's poetic version. The shortened form as found in In Nature's Storyland and Nature Myths and Stories (see p. 17) will be found useful as an epitone of the subject. "The Porcelain Stove" and "Piccola” (The Story Hour) will be much appreciated by younger children as well as by the older ones. There are many suitable recitations in Little English Poems and Books for the Bairns, Nos. 84 and 104. Books Nos. 10, 22, 70, 106 and 118 also provide good stories for Christmas time. The wellknown "ang up the Baby's Stocking" is a very favorite poem. All the children will enjoy playing a Santa Claus game, of which there are many versions in various books; I may mention especially the one in Miss E. Poulsson's Finger Plays. Christmas hymns and carols should be taught; the rooms should be decorated with evergreens, flags, paper chains, etc. If possible, Christmas puddings. should be made. In the writer's own school last year, twelve large puddings were made, the children providing the whole of the ingredients. Almost every child in the school brought something, even if only a scrap of sugar in a twist of paper, or a few breadcrumbs. An egg was a great gift, as eggs are so scarce at this time of year, but we had plenty brought by individual children. They were so proud to make their own. puddings, in their own classrooms, with their own materials; and, speaking from personal experience. I can say that if the proof of the pudding is in the eating, they were very good and creditable productions for novices in the art of cookery. A Christmas tree is also provided for the children by the staff, who give an annual dance to raise the necessary funds. This is the day of the year to the little ones, and an orange, a stocking filled with sweets, and a simple tov is provided for each one. I cannot prescribe a better tonic for one's own Christmas than providing such a treat for the children who are under our care. A full account of how Christmas is kept here will be found in Child Life in Our Schools, published by George Philip & Son. |