"How, then," the speaker wished to know, was it likely to kill any of them?"

The answer was, "By their venturing too near the mill."

"And that is the only way that any of us are likely to get killed by the windmill? " pursued the venerable crow.

"Yes," the chairman said; " that is the way, I believe."

And the crows generally nodded their heads, as much as to say, Certainly, of course."

"Well, then," said the speaker, "let's keep out of harm's way. That's all I have to say.”

In reading this fable act and talk as the young crows would. Then be the calm old crow who quietly asks his question. Give it as if you were talking, making yourself part of the story. Do not be afraid to talk as you feel.

If you have tried the experiment suggested, if you have talked understandingly, and observed the action of your mind, then have read with similar action of your mind, you must have found one thing to be true, namely, — that to read well you must think think only one thing at a time but realize each phrase before you speak it. Whenever we talk in a way to interest others we are genuinely thinking, and we must do the same when reading.

II. ATTENTION AND MENTAL PICTURES

Persian.

When Amruzail describes what he has seen,
Speaking of sands and flocks and hilltops green,
Such magic in his voice and language lies,
That all his hearers' ears are turned to eyes.

In reading "The Bluebird" what do you find your mind doing? Possibly you see the sky, then the coat of blue; perhaps you see next the rosy vest, then the round throat, then the silver tint of tail and wing.

In thinking the mind tends to reproduce objects referred to, to create them out of what it has seen before, if they are entirely new, or if they have never been observed; but the mind must act in its own way. We need to give definite attention and hold whatever comes into our minds as an impression that will cause expression.

THE BLUEBIRD

A bit of sky to make a coat;
A rosy vest and rounded throat;
A silver tint in tail and wing;

A joyous song about the spring.

Author not known

While the mind must be permitted to act in its own way, yet we must be sure that we make it active; to see pictures we must give attention to one thing at a time.

Read this poem aloud and allow your mind to make pictures of its own accord. Let it see things which you can hold and enjoy, one at a time.

SPRING

Green the grass is springing,

Tiny leaves appear,
Cowslips dot the meadows,

Violets are here;

All the birds are coming, -
See them on the wing;
You can hear them singing,
"We are glad 'tis spring."

From "The Kindergarten Review."

Blanche Weymouth

If you read these lines and enjoy them, leaves and birds will spring up at once in your mind. But how about cowslips? They will spring up likewise if you have observed them and learned to admire them, but if you do not know them you will see only a word.

Violets are familiar flowers, but if you have not closely studied and enjoyed them, even "violets" will be only a word and will awaken no picture in your mind.

SOME SMALL SWEET WAY

There's never a rose in all the world
But makes some green spray sweeter;
There's never a wind in all the sky
But makes some bird wing fleeter.
There's never a star but brings to Heaven
Some silver radiance tender;

And never a rosy cloud but helps
To crown the sunset splendor;

No robin but may thrill some heart,

His dawn-like gladness voicing;

God gives us all some small sweet way
To set the world rejoicing.

Author not known

We should read a great variety of poems and passages, giving definite attention to each item; and while we allow the mind to make pictures freely and naturally, yet we should be sure that we move from one picture to another. We must hold attention upon one and enjoy it before leaving it. Then we must move with decision to another and let this progressive movement of the mind from one idea or image to another determine the way we speak the word and all the conditions and actions of our voices. We must not only allow the mind freedom in thinking but we must hold our impressions and allow them a direct response in expressing the phrase which represents the picture.

A WONDER STORY

A bunch of dry and withered leaves
To a bare, brown willow clung,

And all through winter's storms and snows
In the chilling breezes swung.

And when the gentle springtime came,
And the tree was dressed in green,

Still hanging to the topmost twig,

Might the withered leaves be seen.

But lo, from out the withered leaves
Came a glorious butterfly,

And spread its glittering wings for flight,
Up in the heavens so high.

Author not known

Do you know the life of a butterfly? Did you ever find a "bunch of dry and withered leaves" clinging to a willow? Find one in the country some time; take it home with you and wait. You have seen how beautiful the butterflies are among the flowers, but when you know something more about them than their color, and have watched their lives, other pictures arise in your mind with the word "" butterfly," and you see things which would never have come to you but for this careful observation.

THE PUSSY-CAT BIRD

To-day when the sun shone just after the shower,
A song bubbled up from the lilac-tree bower

That changed of a sudden to quavers so queer,
For a moment I thought something wrong in my ear.
Then I called little Dempster, and asked if he heard,
"Oh, yes!" he replied; "it's the pussy-cat bird."

The pussy-cat bird has the blackest of bills,
With which she makes all her trebles and trills:
She can mimic a robin, or sing like a wren,
And I truly believe she can cluck like a hen;
And sometimes you dream that her song is a word,
Then quickly again— she's a pussy-cat bird!

The pussy-cat bird wears a gown like a nun,

But she's chirk as a squirrel, and chock-full of fun.
She lives in a house upon Evergreen-lane,

A snug little house, although modest and plain;
And never a puss that was happier purred

Than the feathered and winged little pussy-cat bird. "A Boy's Book of Rhyme."

Clinton Scollard

Are birds strangers to you, or do you know at once from the song, color or form that one is a robin, another a bluebird, another a song-sparrow, another a blackbird, another an oriole?

You think it hard work to become familiar with birds, but if you will begin to observe, very soon you will have become acquainted with a great many. I know a little boy who learned to name nearly a hundred in one summer. He had written their names and described them, and he was not eleven years old. He did not have much instruction; he was simply set to work, a few characteristics of various birds were told him, and he kept on observing till he had made a catalogue of them.

LEAVES

Take any common leaf into your hand and look at it. Pick up the leaf of the strawberry, for instance. See how prettily it is notched! Hold it up to the light and notice the lines that run from the middle to the edges. Then look at the fine network between these lines. How delicate and lovely it all is!

Beautiful and interesting as leaves are, few people notice

them. If a dozen people were shown leaves of several common trees, how many, do you think, could tell from what kind of tree each leaf came? Could you?

Gather leaves of different kinds and see if your schoolmates can tell their names. Take the star-shaped leaf of the planetree, the birch leaf with its trimly notched edges, the bright, firm leaf of the oak, and the wrinkled leaf of the elm. Put a willow leaf beside a peach leaf and see how many of your friends can tell one from the other.

Leaves come from buds, just as flowers do. If you gather some leaf-buds in the early spring, and cut them across with a sharp knife, you will see how the leaves are folded inside. Some are doubled together like a folded sheet of paper; some are rolled round and round; others are folded in the same way as a fan.

In the warm spring days the buds grow larger and larger. After a while they unfold, and the green leaves are spread out.

As you look at a leaf, you see that it is made up of two parts, the stalk, and a broader part which is thin and flat. The broad part is called the blade. As you see, the stalk runs through the middle of the leaf to the tip. It forms what is called the midrib.

A number of branches, called veins, run off from the midrib. These are like the ribs of an umbrella. Without them the leaf could not stand straight and firm. The wind would blow it about like a rag tied to a stick.

You will find some leaves made up of a number of small ones all fixed on one stalk. These are called compound leaves. Simple leaves have only one leaf on each leaf-stalk.

There are great differences in the shapes of leaves. Some are long and narrow, like blades of grass; some are round; some are egg-shaped, and some heart-shaped. Some have plain, and some have wavy edges, while others have edges like the teeth of a saw.

Keep your eyes open as you walk in the fields and woods, and you will see there is no end to the kinds of leaves. And among them all when you look closely you cannot find one that is not beautiful.

Leaves are not only beautiful and interesting, but they are useful, too. Their chief use is to keep trees and plants alive and to make them grow. To do this the leaves have to work hard. The air taken in by them, and the water and other foods sucked up by the roots, all meet in the leaves, where they are sifted, and sorted, and changed. What is needed to keep the plant