natural lines. A "quiet, gentle voice" is conscientiously aimed at by
many young teachers, with so great zeal that the tone becomes painfully
repressed, "breathy," and timid. This is quite as unpleasant as a loud
voice, which is, in turn, a frequent result of early admonitions to
"speak up." Neither is natural. It is wise to determine the natural
volume and pitch of one's speaking voice by a number of tests, made when
one is thoroughly rested, at ease, and alone. Find out where your voice
lies when it is left to itself, under favourable conditions, by reading
something aloud or by listening to yourself as you talk to an intimate
friend. Then practise keeping it in that general range, unless it prove
to have a distinct fault, such as a nervous sharpness, or hoarseness. A
quiet voice is good; a hushed voice is abnormal. A clear tone is
restful, but a loud one is wearying.

Perhaps the common-sense way of setting a standard for one's own voice
is to remember that the purpose of a speaking voice is to communicate
with others; their ears and minds are the receivers of our tones. For
this purpose, evidently, a voice should be, first of all, easy to hear;
next, pleasant to hear; next, susceptible of sufficient variation to
express a wide range of meaning; and finally, indicative of personality.

Is it too quixotic to urge teachers who tell stories to little children
to bear these thoughts, and better ones of their own, in mind? Not, I
think, if it be fully accepted that the story hour, as a play hour, is a
time peculiarly open to influences affecting the imitative faculty; that
this faculty is especially valuable in forming fine habits of speech;
and that an increasingly high and general standard of English speech is
one of our greatest needs and our most instant opportunities in the
schools of to-day.