dominated by the reflective. Through the subtle powers of suggestion and assimilation, they become more reflective; more able to think seriously; more able to reason clearly and to draw correct conclusions. The imagination, too, is a great truth-gatherer, hence we quote freely from interesting writers of travel and adventure, and give the finest samples of high-class imaginative poetry that the pupils can comprehend.

METHODS. Drill work to promote correct articulation, proper breathing, and general voice culture should not be abandoned; but it should be kept, as always, from encroaching upon the direct work of the reading period, which is to interpret and correctly express the sentiments of the author. The standard for good reading should be emphasized, and pupils led to see that Nature is the only teacher to imitate; and that when they hold the mirror up to Nature" most closely, they do their best reading aloud. Concentration upon the sentiment to be expressed, and absolute forgetfulness of self are the surest roads to success in expression. Pupils now have access to many books and newspapers, hence the selective judgment must be trained carefully to keep their literary taste from being corrupted. Again, in this susceptible and responsive age of the pupils' lives, patriotism should be actively taught as one of the vital things in noble citizenship. In this reader, many fine selections are included for this purpose. Love of country may be instilled by having these selections read and re-read; by encouraging their use as declamations; and by leading pupils to feel that in the future the fate of the nation will rest upon their own patriotism and wisdom.

CONCLUSION. Pierre Loti says, through one of his characters, that he detests most books because the informing soul" is lacking. If, through these readers, children are taught to interpret the thoughts of others; to find the "informing soul" therein; to do some genuine thinking for themselves; if they learn to regard honesty, courage, industry, kindness, patience, truthfulness, charity, and kindred virtues, as beautiful, natural, and practically worth while; if they pass from the reading book with a keen hunger for reading, and a healthy, abiding relish for the best to be found in books; if they learn that reading books are but the preliminaries to more delightful books to read that may be obtained from the library or the publishers; if the work of the teacher correlates with the spirit of the readers so as to produce these results in a fair degree, pupils will some day say, with Fénelon, the famous French prelate and author, "If the crowns of the world were laid at my feet in exchange for my love of reading, I would spurn them all.”

With this hope in mind, we send the SPRAGUE CLASSIC READERS into the educational world to find their own place and do their own work.

It is well to think well: it is

divine to act well.

Horace Mann.

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:

They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favors fall!

For them I battle till the end,

To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above,

My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine; I never felt the kiss of love,

Nor maiden's hand in mine.

More bounteous aspects on me beam,

Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer,
A virgin heart in work and will.

When on my goodly charger borne
Thro' dreaming towns I go,

The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,

The streets are dumb with snow.

The tempest crackles on the leads,

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;

But o'er the dark a glory spreads,

And gilds the driving hail.

I leave the plain, I climb the height;
No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

A maiden knight- to me is given
Such hope, I know not fear;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.

I muse on joy that will not cease,
Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,

Whose odors haunt my dreams;
And, stricken by an angel's hand,
This mortal armor that I wear,

This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
Are touched, are turned to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky,
And thro' the mountain walls

A rolling organ harmony

Swells up and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear;
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on the prize is near."

So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;

By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All armed I ride, whate'er betide,

Until I find the Holy Grail.

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson.