them with their hands.

It is quite plain to see that the children take a great interest in
the "Silence"; they seem to give themselves up to a kind of spell:
they might be said to be wrapped in meditation. Little by little, as
each child, watching himself, becomes more and more still, the silence
deepens till it becomes absolute and can be felt, just as the
twilight gradually deepens whilst the sun is setting.

Then it is that slight sounds, unnoticed before, are heard; the
ticking of the clock, the chirp of a sparrow in the garden, the flight
of a butterfly. The world becomes full of imperceptible sounds which
invade that deep silence without disturbing it, just as the stars
shine out in the dark sky without banishing the darkness of the night.
It is almost the discovery of a new world where there is rest. It is,
as it were, the twilight of the world of loud noises and of the uproar
that oppresses the spirit. At such a time the spirit is set free and
opens out like the corolla of the convolvulus.

And leaving metaphor for the reality of facts, can we not all recall
feelings that have possessed us at sunset, when all the vivid
impressions of the day, the brightness and clamor, are silenced? It is
not that we miss the day, but that our spirit expands. It becomes more
sensitive to the inner play of emotions, strong and persistent, or
changeful and serene.

"It was that hour when mariners feel longing,
And hearts grow tender."

(Dante, trans. Longfellow.)

The lesson of silence ends with a general calling of the children's
names. The teacher, or one of the children, takes her place behind the
class or in an adjoining room, and "calls" the motionless children,
one by one, by name; the call is made in a whisper, that is, without
vocal sound. This demands a close attention on the part of the child,
if he is to hear his name. When his name is called he must rise and
find his way to the voice which called him; his movements must be
light and vigilant, and so controlled _as to make no noise_.

When the children have become acquainted with _silence_, their hearing
is in a manner refined for the perception of sounds. Those sounds
which are too loud become gradually displeasing to the ear of one who
has known the pleasure of silence, and has discovered the world of
delicate sounds. From this point the children gradually go on to
perfect themselves; they walk lightly, take care not to knock against
t