1 9 2 THE NA TURE-STUD V RE VIE W [3 . 7 -oct., .go 7 



the interests of the child are so constantly changing with advanc- 

 ing years. Yet it is a principle which will at least help materially 

 in arranging the sequence of subject-matter. Thus animate 

 objects are of greater interest than inanimate to the young child. 

 His pets and the plants he can rear are delightfully attractive. 

 Early childhood is the reappearance of the racial age of mythology. 

 The stars and the meterological phenomena about him appeal 

 strongly to him when presented in connection with the myths 

 they have generated. At adolescence the child becomes more 

 utilitarian. Things begin to assume commercial values. Then 

 the chemistry and physics of common objects and processes, the 

 forces that man utilizes, acquire dominant interest. These sug- 

 gestions will serve to make apparent that a comprehension of the 

 fundamental ideas of genetic psychology is essential to the formu- 

 lation of a successful course in nature-study. Otherwise, the 

 teacher will miss the high tide of interest and will ever be attempt- 

 ing to force upon the child, subjects which though they appeal to 

 her, may be utterly foreign to the child's world. The child's 

 interests are fortunately exceedingly cosmopolitan, not at any 

 one phase of development, but taking childhood as a whole. 

 There should be a corresponding range in the subject-matter of 

 nature-study. Let the child know, familiarly, the common stars, 

 the constellations and the fables they suggest ; let him name the 

 animals and plants about him and know their habits as he sees 

 them. Teach him the common minerals and rocks of his native 

 place, something of the chemistry and physics of the every-day 

 life. Let him follow the brook and roam the hills with open eyes. 

 This do and you equip him with a fund of delightsome memories 

 to enrich his mature years. What a monotonous world this is to 

 many Avhose early training dulled some senses to the simple joys 

 that abound about them. Read Shakespeare, Scott, Longfellow, 

 James Lane Allen, or for that matter, any writer of repute and 

 observe how wonderfully important a part are these sensory 

 images of childhood in the equipment of the successful author. 

 Then realize how much of literature is necessarily a terra incognito 

 to the child who is deficient jn the corresponding imagery. 



There is undoubtedly danger in the exclusive training of the 

 power of observation in extenso, danger that attention may be 

 dissipated by a multiplicity of interests and that, therefore, that 

 power of concentration be lost which is so essential to valuable 



