is something the small boy cares absolutely nothing about. In the interest of his later education it may be well for parent and teacher to select those stories that are well written, but the small boy asks only that there be plenty doing and certain success, and is as easily satisfied as the uncritical mother who wants to laugh and cry and isn't bothered about the characters. The rag hero of "The Revolt" satisfies them. It is the more pleasing, then, to find that many of these books of adventure are done with skill and care. For older youths "The Nigger of the Narcissus" gives a stirring account of sea life and sea dangers. In these last books there is always the possibility of knowing the life described. Any boy may go to sea now that there is a steady call for the Marines. There is another type of story where the adventure is not like unto the real. It is said that the French have done better with pure romance than the English, and it is certain that a French translation heads the list. "The Count of Monte Cristo" is one long series of adventures. Through one danger on to another the three volumes run and the invention of the author never flags. This story was not planned for juvenile reading and will always be one of the masterpieces of adult fiction, but it possesses preeminently those qualities which appeal to boys. Chief among these is the rapid move of events. American writers have not been particularly fortunate when they have attempted this type of story. They have tended to the sentimental. "Graustark" depends upon its love scenes for much of its thrill and McCutcheon has been found in no list of authors whose books are sought by boys.

Besides Dumas there have been at least two other writers of pure romance who have held their young audiences and older ones as well. "Treasure Island" is the most popular of these stories. A class in a Normal College once reported on this book. Of course the members of the class were girls. They made but scant report. The book was silly, tiresome, possibly dangerous, should not be given to pupils. Didactic demands for admiration are worse than useless, but something had to be done. These girls were asked to consult their younger brothers as to their

opinion of the book. One girl happened to have a brother in a Preparatory School. She wrote to him and he was so outraged at the attack upon his favorite that he at once asked all the boys in the dormitory what they thought about it. They reported overwhelmingly in favor of the old pirate and the brave lad. The girls were aghast at the popularity of the book and read it again to find the cause. They had thought the characters altogether horrible, but a closer analysis and a wider knowledge of life would have taught them that in those very sketches were many of the attributes which boys justly covet. There are courage and strength and faith. Written by the man who himself never whined and never abandoned the struggle, the book is consistently courageous. No pirates ever lived like those John Silver knew and fought with. The book is the incarnation in the guise of life of olden times of those virtues which men of all time have found admirable and desirable.

In this same department of pure romance, but different as can well be, are the tales of Jules Verne. "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" is cast in a speciously scientific form which gives a semblance of reality to its adventures. One wonders whether it can hold its place now that the deep sea journeys which Verne thought fantastic are so much less marvelous than much that is being done today. The book depended upon its marvels for its attraction, and, since those marvels have been transcended, it is hard to tell whether the story will have vitality enough to survive. This semblance of reality has made many a book and is part of the fascination of the historical novel. The librarians are very cautious in what they say of Scott and the boy of today. "For some boys," "Some books may be selected," these are the annotations made upon the margins of the lists. Crockett has gone far enough to say that the description must be omitted and has actually arranged a number of the tales for his own children. Incidentally they have been printed for general circulation. What success they have had is not easy to say. They are found in

school libraries where the youth may be compelled to get a modicum of Scott at the expense of the least possible effort on the part of his teacher.

Other men have written upon these same periods of history with an eye directly to a juvenile audience. Pyle's "Men of Iron" is a good example of these efforts. It is thoroughly readable and moderately famous. There is an endless list of books planned to teach history incidentally. The dramatization of "Master Skylark" had much vogue in the Shakespeare Centennial. One or two of the shorter tales placed upon librarians' lists have so much of local sentiment connected with them that to form a just estimate of the books themselves is difficult. This is especially true of "The Perfect Tribute" and "The Man Without a Country."

The quality that is most consistently absent from these books is humor, although we pride ourselves upon American possession of this trait. It develops only after maturity has been reached. Funny things happen in children's books, humorous ones almost never. "Don Quixote" was not on a single one of the many lists prepared of "books which boys have liked." Direct interpretation is demanded. "A Yankee in King Arthur's Court" is one of the most mature of Twain's books, if we judge by the age of its readers. There is no weltering in pathos for the boys. Mrs. Ewing is a writer whose books for children have long been praised by critics. In dealing with the American boy these tales present insurmountable difficulties. "The Story of a Short Life" has many elements which might be expected to endear it to young readers. There are soldiers in plenty, there is the Victoria Cross, there is the great dog, there is a much-loved little boy; but the most careful reading aloud of this book has brought forth nothing but a patient politeness and a suspiciously vague glance of the eye. Our boys don't want endurance in suffering, they prefer active struggle. Gwen and the Sky Pilot are for older readers.

The summary of the traits of the boys' novel is not difficult to make. It must have action and plenty of it, there must be oppor

tunity and its able use, there should be variety in scene, or—if not in scene-in happenings; there must be courage and difficulties which are overcome; there may be blood, but it must be a flood from a pulsing artery, not the slow dripping of the heart's blood; there must be reality or its close image; finally, they want tales of strength, for they hope to be the strong men of a strong nation. Not a bad ideal, nor are they bad reading, these boys' novels.

The pretty silk of that one's petals fade

Before the odor of the little one is in the glade.

My cap of lace

Is quite in place?

"Tis touching now the margin of the bowl

Where twin-flowers nid-nod? O Childhood, sing!

Subdue the spirit of my marvelling!

MINNIE E. HAYS.

W

rescue.

Teaching Pupils to Study

FRANK R. PAGE, STATEN ISLAND ACADEMY,

NEW BRIGHTON, S. I.

HEN John's mother calls at the school to inquire of teacher why her intelligent offspring didn't pass in Geography-or Latin, or Algebra, or History, or English-the chances, I figure, are about even that teacher will put the blame on the lad's inability to study. "He's a bright boy, yes, indeed, but he doesn't seem to know how to study, he can't con-centrate." The chances are considerably better than even that John's female parent will be sufficiently mollified if she is told that John's inability is quite a common one for boys of his age between six and eighteen-one that he is sure to outgrow, for he is a bright, intelligent lad. But if John's D still looms large on mother's horizon, and if teacher lacks experience as a parent-soother, then the Principal must be called to the He is a man of Tact-that is why he is a Principaland the chances are now about ninety-nine out of a hundred that Tact will win, and that mother will depart with feathers smoothed. But there is one chance that it won't-and she won't. Suppose, for example, she asks-there are well authenticated cases in which a Principal has had propounded to him the question-"If, as you say, John doesn't know how to study, why doesn't the school teach him how to study?" (Parenthetically, there are instances when Tact cracked under the strain and the answer has been, "Madam, the school is not supposed to furnish pupils with Brains"-but that is another story.) It happens that I, being a Principal, some months ago was asked the question. What my reply was then is of no importance now-I didn't mention Brains-but after a good deal of cogitation I am prepared to answer it now, and my answer is the correct one. It is: "It should."