352 



THE <;i/LDE TO NATURE 



"Children of the Dawn." 



AN EDITORIAL ON WABANAKI SCHOOL 

 ROUND HILL ROAD, GREENWICH, CON- 

 NECTICUT, BY DR. FRANK CRANE, IN 

 NEW YORK GLOBE, JANUARY 31, IQlS. 



Now that Christmas has come and 

 eone it is worth while to ask what is 

 the best gift we can imagine. 



I have asked myself that question 

 and have found the answer that satis- 

 fies me. 



The best gift I can imagine — the one 

 that would do the most good, both now 

 and for years to come — would be to the 

 boys and girls who today are in our 

 tutelage but tomorrow will be in charge 

 of the world. 



And the best kind of a child gift is 

 the right kind of a school. 



School — that is the biggest little 

 world in the language. 



School ! Not the kind I went to nor 

 the kind we find around us, but the 

 ideal school, the happy school, the out- 

 door school, where the glad forces of 

 childhood come to harmonious develop- 

 ment through play. 



T have one now in my mind's eye. 

 It is set on a hillside in the woods in 

 Connecticut. A deer path crosses the 

 school yard. A great naturalist comes 

 and tells the children the secrets of 

 nature. A master woodcraftsman 

 lives near and through him the children 

 learn the marvellous adventures of the 

 simple life. 



They teach from books in this school, 

 but it is full of life rather than on know- 

 ledge. 



They do not train children to be 

 scholars, doctors, lawyers, mechanics, 

 nor any other pigeonhole occupants, 

 but to be men and women. 



The children learn how to use their 

 bodies and to revere them. 



They learn the infinite resources of 

 pleasure that abound in knowing how 

 to do things for themselves with their 

 own hands, and find out facts for them- 

 selves with their own minds. 



They meet in the council ring and 

 there learn team play, self-discipline, 

 respect for the opinions of others, the 

 sublime art of getting along with folks. 



There the teachers are also learners. 

 Teachers and learners are not two hos- 

 tile camps. They explore the hills 



hand in hand and do not oppose each 

 other across the desk. 



They live reverently, to them the 

 Great Spirit is a daily reality. They 

 don't preach, they realize. 



The school is not for bright children 

 nor stupid, but for all children, as God 

 made them ; the best in them is brought 

 out, whatever it is. 



There they teach the right kind of 

 patriotism, the flower of humanity. 



The school is called Wabanaki, which 

 means Children of the Dawn. 



If I had millions I would endow such 

 a school, not museums nor libraries nor 

 institutions to perpetuate tradition, but 

 something: that would mean life, for in 

 so doing I should lay up my treasure 

 where moth and rust do not corrupt 

 nor thieves break through and steal. 



Those Stringy Bubbles in Ice. 



New York City. 

 To the Editor : 



If no one offers a better explanation 

 for the bubble formation in ice describ- 

 ed on page 305 of the March number of 

 The Guide to Nature, I will venture 

 a suggestion. If there was any decom- 

 posing vegetable matter in the aqua- 

 rium the water was filled to saturation 

 with gas resulting from this decompo- 

 sition. The water remains saturated 

 with the gas under ordinary tempera- 

 ture, but at the freezing point would 

 dispose of most of it. There is a pos- 

 sibility that in a small aquarium jar 

 congelation of the water occurred in 

 nearly all parts of the jar at a certain 

 moment and the bubbles of gas then 

 escaping were mostly confined ;';/ situ 

 although some of them made their way 

 toward the surface, leaving the narrow 

 lines of open space. 



Yours truly, 



Robert T. Morris. 



The ancient Greek "cat," kept on 

 ships for killing the rats and mice, 

 seems really to have been a martin and 

 not a cat at all. 



The "old squaw ducks" of our north- 

 ern lakes, which are divers and eaters 

 of small fish, are reported to swim to 

 depths beneath the surface exceeding 

 a hundred feet. 



