W. V«.

nice question. One could differentiate with
the aid of a few strokes of natural selection,
but essentially they were all of the same pro-
toplasm. Her explanations of her pictures
afforded curious instances of the easy magic
with which a breath of her little soul made
all manner of dry bones live. I reproached
her once with wasting paper which she had
covered with a whirling scribble. “Why,
father,’”’ she exclaimed with surprise, “ that ’s
the north wind!” Her latest masterpiece
is a drawing of a stone idol; but it is only
exhibited on condition that, when you see it,
you must “shake with fright.”

At a Kindergarten one learns, of course,
many things besides clay-modelling, draw-
ing, and painting: poetry, for instance, and
singing, and natural history; drill and ball-
playing and dancing. And am I not curious
— this with a glance at the clock which is on
the stroke of seven — to hear the new verse
of her last French song? Shall she recite
“ Purr, purr!” or “The Swing’? Or would
it not be an agreeable change to have her
sing “Up into the Cherry Tree,” or “The
Busy Blacksmith ” ?

46