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JUVENILE LITERATURE DEPARTMENT.

CONDUCTED BY FRANCES CRAVENS, FORMERLY EDITOR OF The Public School.

Longfellow With the Children.

Teachers are already beginning to ask the question, "How can I arrange my February program that my pupils may gain the greatest help from the celebration of the four birthdays which come in February?"

So rich in all that ennobles life is the appropriate work for this month that it is difficult to choose any one poem, theme or biography and say, "this is best."

Patriotism, nobler ideals, courage in everyday life, are the lessons our children should glean from the lives of the four great Americans, who each in his way gave his life to his country-Washington, Lincoln, Longfellow, and Lowell.

No colonists now cry out for liberty, no slaves for freedom; no soldiers need be trained for the battlefield; but there has, perhaps, never been a time when true patriotism, self-respect, and moral cour age needed to be so strongly engrafted in the minds and hearts of our children, citizens elect of America.

From whom can children gain more inspiration than from their own poet, Longfellow?

The one great lesson we would learn from his beautiful life is unselfishness. By reading of his unfailing kindness, we are lifted above the petty things of existence. That a good life should not only benefit and make happy our daily associates, but should inspire future generations, is a grand thought.

No child so young, or so unappreciative, but will realize that much of the poet's own happiness came from making others happy. The following reading lessons from his biography, and the quotations from his poems, are arranged for the pupils with the hope of saving the teacher's time.

From reading the life, memorizing the sentiments, and listening to the poems, the children will unconsciously be inspired to better things.

The teacher must use her own judg ment as to the selections suitable for children of special ages.

Pupils in higher grades cannot fail to appreciate the beauty of friendships like those which existed between Lowell, Hawthorne, Sumner, Greene, Agassiz, and Longfellow.

If teachers will carefully read all the selections mentioned, no matter how often they may have read them before, the spirit of the poet's life will enter into the work with the children, and they will readily fit the poems into the proper niches of the biographical lessons.

FOR THE BLACKBOARD.
Build to-day then strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure,
Shall to-morrow tind its place.
Nothing useless is, or low;

Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show,
Strengthens and supports the rest.
-The Builders.

The longing for ignoble things;

The strife for triumph more than truth; The hardening of the heart, that brings Irreverence for the dreams of youth; All thoughts of ill, all evil deeds,

That have their roots in thoughts of ill; Whatever hinders or impedes

The action of the noble will;-
All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain
In the bright fields of fair renown
The right of eminent domain.

-The Ladder of St. Augustine.

Whene're a noble deed is wrought,
Whene're is spoke a noble thought,
Our hearts in glad surprise
To higher levels rise.

Honor to those whose words or deeds
Thus help us in our daily needs,
And by their overflow

Raise us from what is low.

-Santa Filomena.

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*All of the pictures in this article are used by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co., the authorized publishers of the works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Would you like to hear what Mr. Longfellow told Charles, Ernest, Alice, Allegra, and Edith?

THE BIRTHPLACE.

One snowy evening in December the children went into their papa's study. Alice said, "Papa, we have found some pictures of your old homes in Portland. Won't you tell us about them?"

"Let me see," said papa, "that is the house where I was born. This house was quite near the shore, and was three stories high. My parents lived there a short time with my aunt. I don't remember anything about it. They say my nurse carried me to the window every day, and that I would put my face to the pane and coo at the white sails. I could see them plainly as our house was so near the shore.

"When I was only a year old, we moved to the house in this picture. That is the one I love. There is where I spent my happy childhood. In this room on the left, mother often read to us, or told us stories.

"What lively romps we used to have in this kitchen! There, in the winter evenings, we roasted our nuts in the big fire place. There we played blind man's buff and other games. I remember when I was five years old, I wanted to be a soldier.

"We were having a war with England. I got me a gun and Aunt Lucy powdered my hair, I marched, marched all day long. I felt very brave as I stormed the enemy-my brothers. "When I was seven I sent this message to papa who was in Boston.

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''O, tell papa I am writing at school, a, b, c, and send my love to him, and I hope he will bring me a drum.'

"Soon after this I wrote to him. Would you like to see this letter?"

Every one of the children chimed, "yes, yes; papa."

Mr. Longfellow went to a set of drawers and found this note:

"PORTLAND, Jan., 1814.

DEAR PAPA-Anne wants a little Bible like little Betsey's. Will you please buy her one if you can find any in Boston? I have been to school all the week and got only seven marks. I shall have a billet on Monday. I wish you would buy me a drum.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW."

"Papa, what is a billet?" asked Allegra. "It was a little note the teachers wrote to our mothers when we were good. Papa wrote me a nice answer. Shall I read it?"

"'I have found a very pretty drum, with an eagle painted on it, but the man asked two dollars for it. They do not let any vessels go from

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THE STORY UNCLE SAMUEL TOLD THE CHILDREN.

A few nights after the last story Mr. Longfellow was away from home. When time came for the children's hour they felt lonely.

Suddenly they heard the big brass knocker at the front door. In a few minutes they knew their Uncle Samuel had come. They thought they would ask him for a story.

Alice said: "I will go ask him to tell us some tales. If he says 'yes,' I'll call you." "Well, what shall I tell you?" asked Uncle Samuel when the children had trooped in.

"Oh, we like to hear what you and papa used to do down in Portland. Was papa a good boy?"

"Yes," said Uncle Samuel. "We used to call him the sunshine of the house. He never seemed to have an unkind thought. He was full of affection, and was eager to make everybody happy. My, how he used to romp! He was full of fun."

"Tell us just how he looked, Uncle," said Alice.

"He was a beautiful little fellow. His hair was chestnut brown. His complexion was very fair. His cheeks were as red as roses, and his eyes as blue as the sky. As much as he loved fun, he did not like noise. One Fourth of July he begged the maid to put cotton in his ears. He did not want to hear the cannon. The maid asked if he was afraid. He was not a bit of a coward, and, disliking for the maid to think he was afraid, concluded to stand the noise.

"Your papa loved all kinds of games. We used to make and fly our kites every spring. We played many a game of ball, and went swimming very often.

"Winter was the best time for fun. I tell you we had lively times then. Every day we played snow-ball, built snow men and snow houses. Then there was sleighing and skating.

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into the satchels. Then we had games until bed-time. We played in the kitchen, as there was sure to be a blazing fire in the big fireplace. We always lingered about this fire until the last moment, as we dreaded to go to our cold bedrooms. I remember too, how we used to hate to get up in the morning. Just think of breaking the ice in the pitcher before we could wash."

"Uncle, tell us about papa's school. How old was he when he started?" asked Ernest.

"He was just three years old. He was first sent to a private school. Sometimes our colored man took him to school on horseback. When he was six, he brought home this billet:

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ers.

THE STUDY, CRAIGIE HOUSE

cold meeting house. In summer he took flowSometimes he gathered a bunch of pinks from the garden. When the big apple tree was in full bloom he always carried apple blossoms. Their fragrance filled the whole meeting house. On Sunday afternoons mother told us beautiful stories from the Bible. In the evening we sang hymns.

"During the week we all gathered in the dining room to study our lessons. As soon as supper was over, each child opened his school satchel. Then all was quiet until a loud blast of a horn sounded. By this we knew the even. ing mail had come.

"When a certain hour came we put our books

"Master Henry Longfellow is one of the best boys we have in school. He spells and reads very well. He also can add and multiply numbers. 'N. H. CARTER.'

'June 30, 1813.'

"When Henry was ten, he went to dancing school. One day he started to turn a double summersault as he was leaving school. He sprained his arm badly. On Saturday he begged to go to dancing school, but on Sunday he pleaded to stay from church. He used to spend all his vacations on Grandfather Longfellow's farm.

"He followed the mowers at hay time and at sundown went for the cows. On his way he

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Lovewell's Pond.' He did not tell anyone he had written it except sister Anne. They were proud of it. He slipped down to the printing office just at dusk. He went up timidly to the door and slipped his poem into the letter box. "He and Sister Anne could scarcely wait until the weekly paper came. The name of the paper was 'The Portland Gazette.' When it did come it was damp. Father had to let it dry. Henry waited with bright eyes and red cheeks, for he was anxious to see if his verses were printed.

At last father laid the paper down. Sister Anne and Henry grabbed it and ran into another room. They searched for the poetry. There it was. He was proud of that first poem. Sister Anne was as happy as Henry.

fending itself. Whenever he got cold he pulled off his coat, then boxed away at that picture. "He wrote long letters to mother about the books he read. He told her of a history of some Indians which he liked. He always pitied the poor red men. He did not think the white settlers treated them justly.

"You know his beautiful stories of Hiawatha. I believe he wrote those stories because he felt sorry for the Indians. Your papa was an excellent student. He graduated from Bowdoin with high honors. The last year he was at college, he and papa wrote to each other often. Papa wanted Henry to be a lawyer, or minister. Henry did not wish to be either."

Mr. Longfellow came home in a few days.

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