tricians, ship carpenters, foremen in
factories, grocers, carpet designers, silver engravers, metal burnishers,
carpenters, masons, carpet weavers, plumbers, stone workers, cigar makers,
and cigar packers. Only one of our boys, so far as we can learn, ever sold
liquor, and he has given it up."

Not a few of these, without a doubt, got the first inkling of their trade
in the class where they learned to read. The curriculum of the Industrial
Schools is comprehensive. The nationality of the pupils makes little or no
difference in it. The start, as often as is necessary, is made with an
object lesson--soap and water being the elements, and the child the
object. As in the kindergarten, the alphabet comes second on the list.
Then follow lessons in sewing, cooking, darning, mat-weaving, pasting, and
dressmaking for the girls, and in carpentry, wood carving, drawing,
printing, and like practical "branches" for the boys, not a few of whom
develop surprising cleverness at this or that kind of work. The system is
continually expanding. There are schools yet that have not the necessary
facilities for classes in manual training, but as the importance of the
subject is getting to be more clearly understood, and interest in the
subject grows, new "shops" are being constantly opened and other
occupations found for the children. Even where the school quarters are
most pinched and inadequate, a shift is made to give the children work to
do that will teach them habits of industry and precision as the
all-important lesson to be learned there. In some of the Industrial
Schools the boys learn to cook with the girls, and in the West Side
Italian School an attempt to teach them to patch and sew buttons on their
own jackets resulted last year in their making their own shirts, and
making them well, too. Perhaps the possession of the shirt as a reward for
making it acted as a stimulus. The teacher thought so, and she was
probably right, for more than one of them had never owned a whole shirt
before, let alone a clean one. A heap can be done with the children by
appealing to their proper pride--much more than many might think, judging
hastily from their rags. Call it vanity--if it is a kind of vanity that
can be made a stepping-stone to the rescue of the child, it is worth
laying hold of. It was distinct evidence that civilization and the
nineteenth century had invaded Lewis Street, when a class of Hungarian
boys in the American Female Guardian Soc