spirits of her pupils. There is, therefore, no drag or listlessness in
her class in reading, because, during this exercise, life is as buoyant
and spontaneous as it is upon the playground.

=The meaning of history.=--In her teaching of history she invests all
the characters with life, because to her they are alive. And because
they are alive to her they are alive to her pupils. They are instinct
with power, action, life. She rehabilitates the scenes in which they
moved, and, therefore, they must be alive in order to perform their
parts. They are all flesh and blood people with all the attributes of
people. They are all actuated by motives and move along their appointed
ways obedient to the laws of cause and effect. They are not named in the
book to be learned and recited, but to be known. She causes her pupils
to know them as they would come to know people in her home. Nor do they
ever mistake one for the other or confuse their actions. They know them
too well for that. These characters are made to stand wide apart, so
that, being thus seen, they will ever after be known. History is not a
directory of names, but groups of people going about their tasks. They
hunger, and thirst, and love, and hate, and struggle with their
environment as their descendants are doing to-day.

=Language and vitality.=--When she is teaching a language, it is never
less than a living language. In Latin the syntax is learned as a means,
never an end. The big things in the study loom too large for that. The
pupils become so eager to see what Cæsar will do next that they cannot
afford the time to stare long at a mere ablative absolute. They are
following the parade, and are not to be turned aside from their large
purpose by minor matters. They are made to see and hear Cicero; and Rome
becomes a reality, with its Forum, its Senate, and its Mamertine. When
Dido sears the soul of the faithless Æneas with her words of scorn, the