at least, a negative answer to the query which heads this paper. But when we further observe that among phases of the larger mission which science has to conserve in the field of general education are those already in part intimated, namely, the training in that mental attitude of openmindedness toward all problems which lies at the bottom of all education in its truest sense, and further, that training in methods of observation and experiment demanded by the genius of the age in which we live-or in the more common phrasing of it, the scientific spirit correlated with the scientific method, the one designating the scientific way of looking at things, the other the scientific way of doing things-these comprise no insignificant part of the real mission of science in education. That these ends have been secured in growing measure there is hardly ground for serious doubt. But that even in these particulars our science teaching has yet attained to its fullest ideals would hardly be claimed even by the most optimistic among us.

It may not be amiss to briefly point out certain danger signals which here and there appear along the way. One of these is that overconfidence and extravagant assumption which has shown itself in the various and conflicting schemes of "nature study," which has of late come into such conspicuous educational notoriety. That there is a thoroughly sane and safe place for this in the work of the schools I have no reasonable doubt. But that it has yet been so organized and directed as to secure true educational ends must be as readily granted by any conservative student of education. At present its most conspicuous failure is in its artificial and superficial character.

A similar tendency is too evident in the science work of higher grades, and even in some cases in college courses. Our laboratories have much of the artificial about them at best. But when in some cases this is further intensified by having all the materials and specimens preserved in series, sections cut and labeled to hand, as so much fixed capital, how much better do they serve the real ends of education than "cribs " and mimeographed copies of lectures handed down from class to class in history or philosophy, economics or literature?

Is the mission of science in education failing? Yes and no. The answer must depend in large measure on the more fundamental problem of the "men behind the guns"-the teachers themselves. Let it be understood that the latter verdict must turn largely upon the qualitative character of the personnel of science teachers. We are to be in no insignificant measure the makers of history as it shall relate to our problem in this and coming generations.

The Study of the English Masterpieces

MARGARET ASHMUN, HELENA, MONT.

ATURALLY, the first thing to consider in the study of a masterpiece is the choice of the mas

Nterpiece itself. No amount of good teaching can

put any permanent value into class work dealing with literature beyond the comprehension of the students. What the high school pupil requires

in the books he reads-what he craves and demands-is human interest, action, or, as the slang phrase so aptly has it, "something doing." He wants real people, a story, a dramatic situation, a climax. As to contemplation, meditation, analysis and criticism, they are for older and wiser heads than his. Personally, I am of the opinion that if the well-intentioned souls who made for us that aweinspiring list of college entrance requirements had been able to remember the far off time when they were boys, a large number of crimes that are now committed in the name of education would be averted. I do not feel that the teacher was entirely to blame who gave his pupils Macaulay's Essay on Milton for the first classic they read in the first year in high school.

"How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds

Makes ill deeds done!"

The schedule of college entrance requirements was at hand; the teacher passed his finger down the list; the finger stopped at Macaulay on Milton, and the crime was wrought. I fear we have not so much excuse to offer for the teacher of whom I know, whose first-year class spent two and one half months on Emerson's Essay on Compensation, and who said regretfully at last that he feared he had not given enough time to the work, as the pupils did not seem to have a clear comprehension of it yet. If any valuable results are to be attained the student must give not forced, but eager attention, and to that end the teacher should choose those classics which have in them a real, vital, human interest for boys and girls.

The masterpiece selected, the next thing is to read it. It should be read through from beginning to end, as rapidly as is consistent, with a clear, general understanding, and preferably it should be read by the teacher. It is perhaps unnecessary to dwell at any length upon these two propositions, which are made with a desire to see justice done to both the author and the pupil. It is only fair to the author to let him make his strong, concentrated appeal to the imagination, which only a continuous reading allows. If the pupil is interested it is only humane to let him get to the end of the story while the zest and enjoyment of it endure; if he is not interested it is equally humane to shorten the length of time he is to be bored. The reasons for demanding that the teacher do the reading are evident. There is nothing that ruins the effect of a poem or story more fatally than hearing it mangled and murdered by pupils reading it for the first time. There is nothing that makes the same selection more attractive, more comprehensible, more impressive, than hearing it read consecutively and unassumingly by one who knows and loves it. The teacher need not be an elocutionist; a quietly, sympathetic voice is all that he should find necessary, but he should make that count. As the reading proceeds, just so much explanation should be given as assures the satisfactory understanding of the general thought of the piece. All smaller points should be left for the second reading.

The selected classic having been read through once, and its main idea having made its appeal, a more detailed study may be accorded to those parts that seem to present special difficulty to the class. And right here is where our great dissensions as to the teaching of literature arise. There is much said nowadays about the "intensive" study of the masterpieces, but unfortunately it seems to be true, that the word "intensive" never means exactly the same thing to any two people. It is therefore somewhat dangerous to use it without expecting to be misunderstood. It is according. to his interpretation of this word, it seems to me, that the teacher succeeds or fails in his work, and his idea of what the intensive or analytic study of literature should be depends upon his idea of the nature of his pupils. If we should search for the most fundamental reason

for the poor teaching too often found in the high school literature class, we should undoubtedly find it to be this: Failure to remember that high school pupils are boys and girls, not men and women.

The high school pupil has not the knowledge, the mental poise, nor the culture necessary for a critical and analytic study of a piece of literature from the pure-may I say-non-human standpoint. If we try to force such a study upon him we do more harm than in our ignorance we are able to compute. On the other hand, just because he is young and animated and undeveloped, he has several qualities which may at some future time be converted into knowledge and poise and culture; that is to say, he has a certain fresh enthusiasm, he has wild, youthful ideals, and an unquenchable interest in the great new world of people and things. If we fail to take account of these very significant qualities of his, and fail to give him the opportunity for their legitimate use, we are doing him as great a harm as if we set before him tasks suited only to those beyond his years. The great dangers then are two: First, in doing work too advanced, too intensive, analyzing too much, and never taking anything for granted; second, in doing work too intangible, too visionary, taking too much for granted to make the study of value to the average, alert, experience-hungry high school student.

After a class has followed a teacher breathlessly through the story of Sohrab and Rustum, has almost shed tears at the death of the hero, and yearned with sympathy over the grief of the ill-fated father, has thrilled with an indefinable appreciation of the closing line,—

"And that majestic river floated on,"

it would be a very foolish teacher indeed who would destroy the fine ecstasy of that impression by plunging at once into a cold-blooded analysis of the poem. It would be a still more foolish teacher who would expect to keep his class always at that delicate pitch of sympathy. There is a time for all things, says the Psalmist. Knowing the boy and girl heart well enough to understand when to speak and when to keep silence, when to call for explanations, and when to leave a great truth

to make its impression unexplained, is really the final and all important qualification for teaching literature to boys and girls. It is therefore impossible to say definitely as to how much analytic study a teacher should put upon a piece of literature. If he does too much he kills the interest in his class or diverts it unworthily to pettiness; if he does too little he lays himself open to the charge of making his work superficial and easy. I believe that the former danger is the greater, that the tendency is to do too much analyzing and to spend too much time on individual pieces of literature. The classes of the teacher who spent four months on the play of Julius Cæsar were probably not known by the scornful name of "snap courses," but I doubt if she did the best thing for her pupils after all. The literature class ought to be a place for concentration and actual logical thought, but I do not believe that these are necessarily to be gained by too rigid an application of the mind to the small details of a lesson. Plot and setting, character, social and ethical problems suggested by the reading-all these offer fruitful topics for study, which are far better suited to the tastes and needs of the high school pupils than mythological and philological details. Such topics offer opportunity for class work of the most concentrated and beneficial kind, but they must be handled with the greatest skill. The teacher must keep himself well in hand, and not allow himself to be led off into futile discussions of irrelevant points. He must be keen, alert, perfectly cognizant of the drift of things, and capable of keeping the minds of the class where he wants them. He should direct, but not monopolize the discussion, confining his share of it largely to questions which stimulate the mental activity of his pupils. The force of the teacher's presence must be felt. He must be, but the pupils must do. It must be by the labor of their own minds under the direction of the teacher that they thresh the wheat out of a piece of literature and leave the chaff.

In addition to the reading and discussion of the classic during the recitation period, there are other devices that the teacher may use for keeping up the interest, for broadening the field of the pupil's knowledge, and for assisting him in selfexpression.