literature and geography, as well as history, could be greatly advanced by such well-chosen series of pictures in the schools. A bright boy would, without effort, and almost by the by, learn ten times as much about the aspect, the industries and resources of the United States, if series of great photographs, now so accessible and so cheap,— of the White Mountains, the New England coast, the beauties of the Hudson, scenes in New York, the metropolis of the country, in Washington, its capital, the Great Lakes, the Mississippi, the prairies, the Rocky Mountains, the Pennsylvania coal mine, the Southern cotton-field, the cornfields of Dakota, -were on the walls of the school or in portfolios, as he could learn by weeks of study in the books.

But it is chiefly the cause of art and beauty which the picture must be made to serve in the schools. We believe that here we stand at the beginning of a new era in our American school life. We trust that it may fall to men of true taste and culture to direct it, and that the various series of pictures which will doubtless soon be put forth from many quarters for the schools may never be of the commonplace and meretricious order, but such as shall lift the taste of our children and our people to what is pure and beautiful and classical and great. The Greek temple and the Gothic minster, the marbles of Phidias and Michael Angelo, the paintings of the great Italians and Netherlanders, the vital works of our own time, these things, teaching the boy and girl in true historic order and with true historic spirit what the course of the world's great art has been, are what we want to have upon the walls of our schoolrooms, instilling their fine lessons through the days and weeks.

With this appreciation of the best in art and of the function of beauty in education and in life, should drawing always be taught in the schools. It should be taught with the understanding that beauty has a claim upon the whole of life, upon industry and upon leisure, upon the shop as well as the salon; that all work and workmanship in the rational community must be beautiful, the artisan in every field an artist. In how many, even of our most cultivated cities, has this elementary conception place and power to-day? Half a hundred of the masters of the public schools of Boston have just been asked concerning drawing in their schools; and three quarters of them answered that it is not so taught as to have any perceptible bearing upon the pupil's other studies, as to interest him in industrial work, or as to kindle his love of beauty. For what then- so the simple soul asks—for what then is

drawing taught? Indeed, we need nothing less than a revolution here and in the whole conceptions and methods of our schools in what relates to industrial and art education. Art education is a primary part of all true industrial education. Every industrial school in the country, every manual training school, every trade school, should teach our people, as the South Kensington schools and museums are teaching the people of England, that everything man uses, the chair, the table, the crockery on the table, the carpet under foot, the paper on the wall, each article of wood or iron, wool or silk, should be beautiful. Each teacher of drawing should radiate this gospel. Each state should teach it to its teachers. Massachusetts has had for twenty years a Normal Art School. Every state in the Union should have one, and should be sure that it is under intelligent direction and is kept in vital relations with its school system. If we can once give beauty its rights in the schools, we shall have done the greatest thing which we can do toward securing for our people a more beautiful public life.

As

THE good, the true, the beautiful,- those were the words the old Greeks loved to use; and they loved to use them together. We have too long divorced goodness and truth from beauty, in our life and in our culture. We have too often, with our Puritan blood and breeding, been half afraid of beauty as something dangerous, threatening and seductive. We have thought that conduct was not simply three fourths of life, but the whole of life-which is not at all the same thing as saying that our conduct has been good. We have got to learn to be Greeks as well as Hebrews. We have got to feel the holiness of beauty as well as the beauty of holiness. we open our eyes to see the beauty of God's earth and sea and sky, so let us be content only when we see beauty too in all the works of our hands, in the home, the school, the shop, the street. The New Jerusalem let down out of heaven was not simply the holy city, but the city beautiful; it could not be holy, not be whole, till it was beautiful. Our life can never be complete, never be rational or righteous, till it is beautiful. Only when every foul alley and every noxious home and every vulgar structure and every base fashion is banished from the city, and over all is spread the mantle of health and beauty, only then can Boston or what ever city be ours-only then can Boston be indeed the city of God.

YOUTH, LOVE AND AGE.

YOUTH and Love awhile were walking

In a sunny way;

Tenderly the pair were talking;

Both were blithe and gay.

"Love," said Youth, "whate'er the weath

Thou and I will bide together;
Though the summer sun and glow
Turn to wintry ice and snow!"

Long they travelled; often Youth
Shuddered and grew weary;
Summer days had gone in sooth, -
Rough the way and dreary.
Love, still dimpled, rosy, arch,
Faltered not upon the march;
Still he carolled, blithe and glad.
Youth, grown cold, reproved the lad.

Then at last Youth left Love weeping,
Ah, the bitter day!

Nightsome shades, like ghosts a-creeping,
All about him lay;

Age in pity, swift to seek,
Kissed the boy upon the cheek;
In his cloak from winds too wild
Wrapt the naked, shivering child.

Edith Mary Norris.

How HANS PICKEL'S DOG HAD HIMSELF PHOTOGRAPHED.

VE haf a gunnink leedle tog -
So schmall ve galls him Pollyvog,

Der prightest, glefferest, schmartest vellow,
Mit vur of zomedimes plack unt yellow,

Unt zooch a gomigal tvistet dail
Dat zu ontvist vere no afail,

Unt leedle goal-plack tvingling eyes
Like zwei tvin tog-schtars in der schkies.
Mein Frau on dot schmall tog schoost doats
Unt qvite-zu-much schpare dime devotes
In maiging vonny golored goats
For him zu vear in vintry vedder;
Und ven dey goes to valluk zugedder
She's halluf der dime in zad anxiety
Dot he should schoose die low soziety
Off some blebeian mongrel cur
Inschtead of schtickink clos't py her:
She iss not happy tay or night
Ven Pollyvog iss out off zight.

She's drained him zo dot he vould schpring
Right t'rough a leedle vooden ring,
Und ven she tolds him he moos zing
He'll schtand on der piano-schair
Und baw die geys unt howl an air
Not wholly Bach or Wagner wholly,
Bud you vould zay dot id vos bully!
He had a dutzend dricks zo vonny

Dot on der schtage 'tvould made him money.

Von tay mein Frau she maig me laff.
"I vant," say she, "die photograph
Of dot schmall tog pefore he ties."
"Vot an idea!" I kvick replies;

"Vait dill he's tead und haff him schtuft."

Mein Frau she vould not pe repuft.

66

-

Subbose," says she, "dot some von schtole him!"
"Ach! den," says I, "meminisse olim ".
(Mein leedle knowledge of die Latin
In dis gonnection game qvite pat in) –
"A din-dype vill do schoost as petter
Und du canst zend him in a letter."
Dot ferry tay mein Frau vent town
To our ald photographer Braun;
She dold him vot a tog vos he
As zubschects for phodography.
She dried to maig him do his dricks
But he vos schtubborn — vould do nix.
Unt denn she bosed him in a schair
Unt dolt him he muss schtay right dere.
But Pollyvog vos up to meeschief
Unt vould not bose; I tink dot his chief
Indention vos zu blague his mistress
Unt gause her schust a leedle distress.
Zix dimes she bosed dot tog und more;
Each dimes he schumpt down on der floor;
Schust as der man had fixt die focus
Dot tog schtirred up ein hocus-pocus.
At last mein Frau loose all her patience
(Unt she gan schold on such oggasions;
Zu oftendimes dey gomes I fear) ·
"Du bist ein schlechtes kleines Tier!
Nach Hause! Geh! Was thust Du hier?"
She schpoke in Cherman mit zeferity,
Und home dot tog vlew mit celerity;
His gorkschrew dail for vonce almost
Ungurled; he hung his head; he loast
Dot saucy look, his broaudest poast;
Und t'rough die door vent like a ghost.
All tay dot tog vould nottings eat;
He actet zif he hat peen peat;

Und ven der Morgen game he vanisht,
Und no von knew how he had manesht.
Mein boor olt Frau vos unconsolable;
Mein schmal poy's krief vos uncontrollable:
Ve mourned dot tog as he vos died,
Ve t'ought he'd c'mitted suicide.
But as die Uhr vos schtrikink tvelve
In game dot Pollyvog himselve.
A happier Hund you neffer saw.
His dail vagged like a dynamo;
He gut up effery gind of gaper;
Unt round his neck he vore a paper

literature and geography, as well as history, could be greatly advanced by such well-chosen series of pictures in the schools. A bright boy would, without effort, and almost by the by, learn ten times as much about the aspect, the industries and resources of the United States, if series of great photographs, now so accessible and so cheap,of the White Mountains, the New England coast, the beauties of the Hudson, scenes in New York, the metropolis of the country, in Washington, its capital, the Great Lakes, the Mississippi, the prairies, the Rocky Mountains, the Pennsylvania coal mine, the Southern cotton-field, the cornfields of Dakota, - were on the walls of the school or in portfolios, as he could learn by weeks of study in the books.

But it is chiefly the cause of art and beauty which the picture must be made to serve in the schools. We believe that here we stand at the beginning of a new era in our American school life. We trust that it may fall to men of true taste and culture to direct it, and that the various series of pictures which will doubtless soon be put forth from many quarters for the schools may never be of the commonplace and meretricious order, but such as shall lift the taste of our children and our people to what is pure and beautiful and classical and great. The Greek temple and the Gothic minster, the marbles of Phidias and Michael Angelo, the paintings of the great Italians and Netherlanders, the vital works of our own time, - these things, teaching the boy and girl in true historic order and with true historic spirit what the course of the world's great art has been, are what we want to have upon the walls of our schoolrooms, instilling their fine lessons through the days and weeks.

With this appreciation of the best in art and of the function of beauty in education and in life, should drawing always be taught in the schools. It should be taught with the understanding that beauty has a claim upon the whole of life, upon industry and upon leisure, upon the shop as well as the salon; that all work and workmanship in the rational community must be beautiful, the artisan in every field an artist. In how many, even of our most cultivated cities, has this elementary conception place and power to-day? Half a hundred of the masters of the public schools of Boston have just been asked concerning drawing in their schools; and three quarters of them answered that it is not so taught as to have any perceptible bearing upon the pupil's other studies, as to interest him in industrial work, or as to kindle his love of beauty. For what then- so the simple soul asks- for what then is

drawing taught? Indeed, we need nothing less than a revolution here and in the whole conceptions and methods of our schools in what relates to industrial and art education. Art education is a primary part of all true industrial education. Every industrial school in the country, every manual training school, every trade school, should teach our people, as the South Kensington schools and museums are teaching the people of England, that everything man uses, the chair, the table, the crockery on the table, the carpet under foot, the paper on the wall, each article of wood or iron, wool or silk, should be beautiful. Each teacher of drawing should radiate this gospel. Each state should teach it to its teachers. Massachusetts has had for twenty years a Normal Art School. Every state in the Union should have one, and should be sure that it is under intelligent direction and is kept in vital relations with its school system. If we can once give beauty its rights in the schools, we shall have done the greatest thing which we can do toward securing for our people a more beautiful public life.

THE good, the true, the beautiful,- those were the words the old Greeks loved to use; and they loved to use them together. We have too long divorced goodness and truth from beauty, in our life and in our culture. We have too often, with our Puritan blood and breeding, been half afraid of beauty as something dangerous, threatening and seductive. We have thought that conduct was not simply three fourths of life, but the whole of life-which is not at all the same thing as saying that our conduct has been good. We have got to learn to be Greeks as well as Hebrews. We have got to feel the holiness of beauty as well as the beauty of holiness. As we open our eyes to see the beauty of God's earth and sea and sky, so let us be content only when we see beauty too in all the works of our hands, in the home, the school, the shop, the street. The New Jerusalem let down out of heaven was not simply the holy city, but the city beautiful; it could not be holy, not be whole, till it was beautiful. Our life can never be complete, never be rational or righteous, till it is beautiful. Only when every foul alley and every noxious home and every vulgar structure and every base fashion is banished from the city, and over all is spread the mantle of health and beauty, only then can Boston - or what ever city be ours-only then can Boston be indeed the city of God.

Schmall tog avaiting for me dere,
Unt zeemed to vant to get up schtair.
I made pelief bay no addention:-
Ach! he's a tog of vise invention:
He schumpt up on der schtool unt schtood
Yoost as his mistress dolt he schould,
Und den schumpt down unt parked at me
Unt gampeld rount yoost frantic'ly;
Unt ven at last I t'ought I'd dry it,
He bosed himselive unt schtood so kviet
Dot in zen minute he vos done:
I neffer had a petter von!"

Mein Frau vas broud enuf pefore;

But now she's broud six dimes as more,
Unt ven she effer gets a schence
She dells apout dot tog's fine sense,
Unt many beobles often laught
To hear how he vas photographt.

Nathan Haskell Dole.

GRANDFATHER BROWN'S STORY OF THE CONCORD FIGHT.

TOLD BY HIM APRIL 19, 1845.

YES, I was at the fight, down Concord way,
A good bit back, just seventy years to-day.
I wuzn't then but just a youngish thing,
My fourteenth birthday come that very spring.
But father and my brother Moses they
Were minutemen, and soon as the first gray
Of mornin' showed itself o'er Rocky Ridge,
They hurried with their muskets to the Bridge.
And I turned out the cows, and when I'd done
The chores, I thought I'd like to see the fun.
So I struck off across lots, by the bogs,
And I remember how it seemed the frogs
Wuz pokin' fun at me with voices shrill,
And how upon the slope of Rocky Hill
The grass wuz shinin' with the mornin' dew,
And how the vi'let patches wuz all blue.

I waded Diamond Brook, and then I thought
I'd go up through the deacon's medder lot;
And when I come into the road again,
My! wuzn't there a heap of minutemen?
And at the parson's they wuz lookin' through
The winders and the door to see the view;
And I clumb up a cherry-tree to see
How our men and the redcoats would agree.
But when the shootin' and the fight begun,
It did not seem precisely all the fun
That I'd expected, and I wished, that day,
The British hadn't come the Concord way.

But when they'd fired and undertook to run,
I tell you, then, the good time just begun!
'Twuz great to see them hurry out of town,
And then to see how our men picked them down.

But when you come to think of it again,
'Twuz awful, too, men shootin' other men.
But still we could not have them British there,
And they did say, the parson made a prayer,
As he stood lookin' on, that God would take
Effectual measures, such as would best make
The English feel that it wuz wise to go
And leave America to hoe her row.

Well, I tell you when I got home that night,
From lookin' on upon the Concord fight,

I warn't so young as when I clumb the Ridge,
A-goin' on the road to Concord Bridge.
And I had somehow learned that as for me
My life, and, yes, my death if need should be,
Belonged to her whom I knew first that day,
Seein' her children tread the bloody way.
Out of the smoke and carnage of the fight,
MY COUNTRY rose on me with dazzling light.
And, well, my very ghost will fight that day
That foreign foes dare march the Concord way.
S. Alice Ranlett.

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY.

'Tis the day of the conflict; in battle array Stand the waiting combatants, the Blue and the Gray.

From the green pasture-lands comes the lowing of herds;

From the forest's deep shadows the music of birds.

In warm, golden splendor the sun's slanting rays
Lie over the broad fields of ripening maize;
A little brook gurgles by hedgerow and thistle;
A quail makes his plaint in a soft, mellow whistle;
All nature is peaceful, yet here, face to face,
They meet for the contest, these souls of one
race!

The Gray waits serenely in abattised strength;
The Blue, brave and daring, advances at length;
In a sea of red clover, so fragrant and sweet,
Just there, on the edge of the meadow, they meet.
An attack, sharp and sudden a noise what is