This implies a full knowledge of the apples and seeds and of the habits of boys and girls, as well as of their existence. The writer explains that "many plants are not satisfied to leave their seeds so near home," because "all plants of the same kind need just the same sort of food"; and "if too many apple trees grow together they soon use up all the apple-tree food in the neighborhood." Consequently this wise tree "makes its fruit so good to eat that some boy or girl or bird is likely to pick it," and "the chances are that it will be carried at least a short distance before its seeds are dropped upon the ground."

This teaches us that it is the apple tree which, by its own conscious act, "makes its fruit so good" for purposes of its own. Doubtless some of us had been led to believe that the intelligence of man and his varied experiments in the cultivation of the hard, sour, small, original wild apple had, after years of thought and labor, succeeded in producing the juicy, mellow, delicious apples of to-day. It is of no consequence, however, since the children will be "more interested" in an apple tree so instinct with human attributes" that it could regulate the quality of its fruit according to its needs.

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A plant having two forms is described. The form growing on land has hairs on the stem, to keep off crawling insects which might injure it. The form growing in the water does not need this protection, and has not hairy stems. Of this plant the writer says, " And when a stem on land knows how to keep off meddlers, yet has the wisdom not to take unnecessary trouble when afloat, like that of the amphibious knotweed, then we feel that a plant gives its stem, as well as its other parts, a large supply of common sense."

One instance of maternal solicitude in a plant and I will stop quoting from this book, although it offers many tempting bits. "Of course a plant does not like to send its young, delicate leaves and flowers into the cold world without wrapping them up, any more than your mother would like to send your baby brother out for the first time without a great deal of just such bundling up." We can almost see the anxious plant toiling to make warm, woolly wraps for its leaves and flowers, and bundling” them up with tender hands. Any child must be deeply moved by such a touching instance of a plant's devotion

and motherly love. The fact that the plant could not do anything different under existing circumstances, and has no conscious volition in the matter, must not be allowed to interfere with the main object-interesting the child.

Now for some of the animals, though not the "bear or the fox." A leaflet published for the use of teachers gives the following: "Did you know that Mr. Mosquito has much better manners than Mrs. Mosquito? Well, he has, for he never tries to worry or to bite us as she does. He is a bashful fellow, and

is always found hiding in some out-of-the-way place, such as swamps and woods, while his mate amuses herself by trying to sing us to sleep, so that she may have a good chance to stab us with her little spear and suck our blood."

How a shy child must sympathize with poor "bashful" Mr. Mosquito! The fact that " Mr. Mosquito " may often be found skimming up and down the window-panes should not be allowed to blunt this sympathy. The child must be interested. Nor should anyone state the facts that the male mosquito does not bite because he needs no food, and that millions of female mosquitoes in swamps and woods never feed upon human blood, but live on the juices of plants and fruits. To state these facts might lessen the interest in the good manners of "Mr. Mosquito."

It is almost a pity that any bright child will probably exclaim on hearing this leaflet read: "But, Miss Blank, when a mosquito sings it doesn't put us to sleep at all. It keeps us all the wider awake, because we are so afraid it will bite us." That effect of the "singing" of the mosquito must have been overlooked by the writer of the leaflet, who has chosen to omit the fact that the "singing" is not a matter of volition with the mosquito, but is caused by the vibration of the wings. Of course a child might be much more interested if allowed to suppose that Mrs. Mosquito" craftily planned the "singing" in order to carry out her fell designs upon her human victim. It is much more like the hero of some of the tales for children, and of course must therefore be more interesting to them. How much more crafty, however, "Mrs. Mosquito" might have been made had the writer endowed her with just enough more human wisdom to make her wait quietly at the bedside

until the victim fell asleep, undisturbed by buzzing wings, when she could easily "stab" him to her heart's content!

It is easy to see that the writer has given to teachers a pair of mosquitoes "endowed with human attributes," and by no means the real, living mosquitoes acting according to mosquito nature as the "struggle to survive" has made it.

In a magazine containing many kinds of instructive articles was one story dealing with the courting, marriage and family life of some sparrows. In the courting scene occurs the following:

"Life will be one long dream of bliss for us both. Say you will be mine."

"Well, I suppose I may as well say yes. Mamma says girls must be settled in life some time, and I am sure I fancy you infinitely more than any of the young sparrows hereabouts. So you can ask papa."

In a call she was making upon a neighbor the bride said: "Oh, I'm quite the happiest creature in the world! Such a husband, and how he dotes on me! I had no idea I was such a piece of perfection. . . . Well, I must cut my visit short, for hubby will be looking for me, and he grows so impatient when I am out of his sight a moment."

"Did you ever see such a vain, silly thing?" said the mother of a large brood of very homely sparrows. "If my girls had no more sense than she, I'd strip every feather off 'em and keep 'em at home, I would!"

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"She makes me sick," said a pert young thing in the group. Perfection, indeed! Why, when she laughs I'm always uneasy for fear her face will disappear down her throat. Such

a mouth!"

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Hubby," mimicked another; "I thought I should collapse when she said that with her sickening simper." . .

"Dearie, sing that dear little note you learned of Mr. Lark for the company. Thank Heaven,I have my precious child still with me. She is not in a hurry to leave her poor mamma,

is she?"

Many sly winks and smiles were exchanged among the matron's friends at this remark, for "dearie" had chirped that little note many summers and winters, and many a snare had

mother and daughter set to entrap the sons of more than one lady sparrow there.

When it came to nest-building the husband and wife quarreled in the vulgar fashion of a tenth-rate novel, and the first installment of the story ends with the wife's exclaiming, "Mother will give Mr. Britisher a piece of her mind, I hope, and let him know I was never brought up to work, much less to be any man's slave." The second number of this story recounts the squabbles of the young pair, mutual recriminations, and their unwillingness to shoulder the responsibilities of life, and finally the husband taunts the wife, now brooding the eggs: "Why, as the saying goes, Mrs. B., you threw yourself at my head at our very first meeting. And your precious mamma! How she did chirp about her darling Jenny's accomplishments and sweet amiability. Bah, what a ninny I was, to be sure! Oh, you needn't shriek and pluck the feathers from your head! . . . Oh, you are going to faint! Well, faint!" and with an exclamation more forcible than polite, Mr. B. flew away out of sight and sound of his weeping spouse.

He never returned, and "rumor assigned his absence to matrimonial infelicity," while his young wife died from "exposure, sorrow and excitement."

No birds could be more "endowed with human attributes" than these. Indeed, if "sparrows" was omitted, and "house" substituted for "nest," they would easily pass for human beings of a very low and vulgar type. It is possible that children may be much interested in these vulgar characters, but their parents would keep them away from such persons in life, and most of them would object to the children's knowing them in books, even disguised as birds. But they meet the requirements of the superintendent. They are "endowed with human attributes," though of a most undesirable kind.

Sparrows are quarrelsome and undesirable birds, it is true, but this does not justify any writer in so loading them with "envy, malice, and all uncharitableness," even though these may be human attributes. There is a justice due to birds and beasts in our representations of them, just as much as it is due in our representations of each other.

There is another form of this injustice to animals which occurs

more often in stories, and consists of attributing various moral qualities to animals which do not possess them. Sometimes a creature is called "evil" for eating the food which is best suited to its structure and needs, as when a caterpillar devours the leaves of a tree or shrub. Sometimes a creature is called "cruel" because it hunts living animals for food, although men hunt deer, shoot ducks, or try to catch fish for sport, and are seldom scorned for so doing unless they are unsuccessful! A hawk is usually a "cruel” bird in books, yet it ceases to hunt when its need is satisfied.

In some stories the plan is different. Each animal is endowed with a human attribute, good or bad, and made to represent a virtue or a vice. In one such book I remember a rat was the villain, and at least two children who read that book will always think of a rat as "wicked." This is clearly unjust. Rats are certainly unpleasant and undesirable,-sometimes even dangerous, as far as human beings are concerned-but they are very good rats, nevertheless. They are strong, sagacious, crafty and courageous, and these are the qualities which have enabled them to "survive" in the struggle for existence. They are what this struggle in their environment has made them, and they live out their lives according to their nature, wholly unconscious of right and wrong. Morals are out of their powers of thought and comprehension, and there is no justice in blaming them for the lack of such powers.

These mistaken attempts to awaken interest imply that children are interested in only such objects as are like themselves. In my experience this is not true. If it were the case, however, it would be an added reason for insisting upon the study of nature as it exists, unhumanized, in order to widen their range of interests.

The child who is taught to see plants and animals as they are, and to observe their ways and lives as they exist, without the addition of manners and morals which the creatures do not and cannot possess, is taken outside of his own little round and learns that other lives and other ways are good. He has something to think about not connected with himself, and this is a great benefit. The more he can be interested in lives different from his own the better.

And the very difference does interest