ook upon you henceforth as a
deeply dyed hypocrite.

The historic story is easily told, and universally interesting, if
you make it sufficiently clear and simple. The account of the first
Thanksgiving Day, of the discovery of America, of the origin of
Independence Day, of the boyhood of our nation's heroes,--all these
can be made intelligible and charming to children. I suggest topics
dealing with our own country only, because the child must learn to
know the near-at-hand before he can appreciate the remote. It is best
that he should gain some idea of the growth of his own traditions
before he wanders into the history of other lands.

In any story which has to do with soldiers and battles, do not be too
martial. Do not permeate your tale with the roar of guns, the smell of
powder, and the cries of the wounded. Inculcate as much as possible
the idea of a struggle for a principle, and omit the horrors of war.

We must remember that upon the kind of stories we tell the child
depends much of his later taste in literature. We can easily create a
hunger for highly spiced and sensational writing by telling grotesque
and horrible tales in childhood. When the little one has learned to
read, when he holds the key to the mystery of books, then he will seek
in them the same food which so gratified his palate in earlier years.

We are just beginning to realize the importance of beginnings in
education.

True, a king of Israel whose wisdom is greatly extolled, and whose
writings are widely read, urged the importance of the early training
of children about three thousand years ago; but the progress of
truth in the world is proverbially slow. When parents and teachers,
legislators and lawgivers, are at last heartily convinced of the
inestimable importance of the first six years of childhood, then the
plays and occupations of that formative period of life will no longer
be neglected or left to chance, and the exercise of story-telling will
assume its proper place as an educative influence.

Long ago, when I was just beginning the study of childhood, and when
all its possibilities were rising before me, "up, up, from glory
to glory,"--long ago, I was asked to give what I considered the
qualifications of an ideal kindergartner.

My answer was as follows,--brief perhaps, but certainly
comprehensive:--

The music of St. Cecilia.
The art of Raphael.
The dramatic genius of Rachel.
The administrative ability of Cromwell.