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TEACHING READING. 
BY PEN DENNIS. 
If I were a teacher and couldn’t teach 
reading, I would close my books and betake 
myself to the corn field or to some other 
place where I felt sure I could master the 
position. My estimate is a very liberal one 
when 1 say that not more than one out ot 
ten in the educational ranks has a proper 
idea of the importance of this branch, gives 
it its proper time and succeeds in making 
passable readers. A really fine reader is 
rare ; good readers are uncommon ; and yet 
everybody acknowledges the pleasure arising 
from listening to good reading. 
In my opinion the foundation must be 
well laid; it is a waste of time if the walls 
are. faulty and require to he laid anew. I 
believe in securing the best, possible talent 
for our primary schools,— men and women 
of experience and culture, earnest workers 
who set the, young pilgrim on his journey 
with nothing that shall afterwards cheek his 
onward career. If ihc teacher of these little 
ones comes down to their level, talks to 
them of the pictures In their lesson, makes 
herself sure that they understand what they 
read, that they do not pronounce their sen¬ 
tences parrot-1 iko, n great deal is gained. If 
they are taught to articulate distinctly, to 
speak iu pure tones, and to give proper in¬ 
flections, they will hardly be apt to outgrow 
the good habits thus formed. One of the 
best methods is to compare reading with 
talking—to insist that pupils should read as 
they talk— i. <?., use the same inflections. 
I once had under my care for a little while 
a class in a Third Reader. They were 
bright, intelligent boys and girls, but they 
had been accustomed to read a verso apiece, 
and to hear their mispronouneiations cor¬ 
rected. This was all. 1 set them to x/ndy- 
ing these lessons, assigning a given number 
of verses; and each pupil was required to 
study so faithfully that 1 couldn’t puzzle him 
or her by any questions. Once understand¬ 
ing what they road, the rest became easy. I 
labored with this class as 1 never did with a 
class before or since, and from the most 
miserable readers that. 1 ever heard, they 
developed iuto far better readers than tho 
average. 
Classes need to be put through a daily 
drill corresponding to the pianist’s scales 
and the vocalist’s runs. Take the vowel 
sounds and exorcise upon them, and inter¬ 
mix with light gymnastics. Monroe’s 
Vocal Gymnastics contains a good deal of 
useful matter, and hints of more. Three 
minutes’ exercise will warm up a class and 
put them in excellent trim; if their atten¬ 
tion lags call them to their feet by a signal, 
and give them some exercise in concert that 
shall enliven them. Vary the manner of 
conducting the reading; have different ways 
of criticism, and break up the usual monoto¬ 
ny iu which the reading class has so long 
been smothered. If possible, praise each 
pupil’s reading, granting an effort to do well 
is apparent, even though you criticise sharply. 
Nothing helps a person so much as to he 
appreciated; iu fact proper appreciation is 
pleasant for everybody. Text books need 
to he changed occasionally. A class needs 
fresh material to keep up a pleasant interest.. 
A class of young ladies, under my care, had 
been reading about three years in a book 
never very desirable, but the trustees were 
principled against introducing others. Uy 
the kindness of its editor we had the Rural 
New-Yorker for three months, and the 
effect was magical. The only trouble was, 
that even then,—two years ago,—we couldn't 
read all the good articles. Our favorite col¬ 
umn was the “ News Condenser,” for each 
one had the privilege of asking questions 
upon anything she didn’t understand. The 
amount of general information thus obtained, 
and t.he mental impulse given, were in the 
highest degree satisfactory. 
It takes a great deal of energy to drill in 
reading—a great deal of perseverance—and 
a great deal of faith, besides. But the end 
to he attained Is worthy of all the effort you 
can make. If you have a dull class, whose 
members haven’t much enthusiasm in regard 
to their reading, give them a real earnest 
talk some day, in the most forcible, pungent 
words you can muster, and see if you can’t 
rouse them. Tell them of Fanny Ke>ibi.e, 
who wouldn’t read anything in public till 
she bad studied it thoroughly for days. Tell 
them all the anecdotes that bear upon the 
subject; he determined to succeed. And 
then, with the dictionary at your elbow, sec 
that they read intelligently and naturally , so 
that if one should ho called upon to read a 
sermon, with a part of the Cotter's Saturday 
Night Iu it, he needn’t stammer and stumble, 
like a good deacon I know of, and then 
blandly inform his audience that “ some of 
the words are badly misprinted.” 
- - - 
Every teacher should pursue a systematic 
course of reading, and diligently". 
INFLUENCE OF THE PRESS. 
An old school teacher, who has witnessed 
the influence of a newspaper upon the 
minds of a family of children, says: 
“I have found it to he a universal fact, 
without exception, t hut, those scholars of 
both sexes and of all ages, who have access 
to newspapers at. home, when compared to 
those who have not, are better readers, ex¬ 
Jpcrrcc 
EVERY-DAY LIFE. 
BY LEAD PENCIL, ESQ. 
“ 1 wish I had decided to study medicine 
five years ago,” said a woman of twenty- 
black-eyed woman about your age and size, 
who sends shafts of ridicule at men when¬ 
ever she finds a target? And is it the es¬ 
pecial function of womanhood to ridicule the 
other sox? That is, is it exclusively a wo¬ 
manly function, and not a manly one?” 
“ Don’t you know that, a man can endure 
ridicule better than woman? lie is strong 
enough and independent enough to let the 
QUEEN DIDO ON ’THE! JTJNERAL PILE. 
celling in punctuation, and consequently 
read more understandingly. They arc bet¬ 
ter spellers, and define words with ease and 
accuracy. They obtain a practical know¬ 
ledge of geography in almost half the time 
it requires for others. They arc better gram¬ 
marians; being familiar with every subject 
in the newspaper, they more readily com¬ 
prehend the meaning of the text, and conse¬ 
quently analyze its construction more accu¬ 
rately.” 
-- 
•READING CLUBS. 
A recent number of Old and New bad 
the following: 
There is not. a town of five thousand people 
in America, in which are not twenty persons 
who would gladly spend five dollars a year 
for hooks. Let. these twenty form the read¬ 
ing club of the town; admit all applicants 
till the maximum, say of thirty members, be 
reached. No matter if they never have heard 
each other’s names. Suppose there are 
twenty members. Let them pay five dollars 
each to a common treasurer. Let. him and 
the President, he a purchasing committee. 
With thirty dollars a year they can take ten 
of the best magazines. With twenty dollars 
ten new books, and with the rest of the hun¬ 
dred dollars one new book a week as the 
year goes by. 
Arrange the names of the members of the 
club in the order of their residences, on a 
printed list to he posted on the cover of 
each book. Then you will start with ten 
magazines and ten books. Let each sub¬ 
scriber have one new one. At the end of 
the week let him pass one to the person next 
him on the list, and receive one from the 
person above him. With every week a new 
book is put in circulation. With every 
month ten new magazines are put in, Every 
family of twenty is at its wits' end to keep 
up with the supply. When the year is 
ended, sell your books and magazines at 
auction, to the members of tlie club. That 
will give you some forty or fifty dollars to 
add to the next year’s subscription. 
--*-*-♦- 
SINGULAR ARITHMETICAL FACT. 
Any number of figures you may wish to 
multiply by 5, will give the same result if 
divided by 2 — a much quicker operation; 
but you must remember to annex a cypher 
to the answer when there is no remainder, 
and when there is a remainder, whatever it 
may be, annex a 5 to the answer. Multiply 
464 by 5, and the answer will be 2,320; di¬ 
vide the same by 2, and you have 232, and 
as there is no remainder, you add a cypher. 
Now take 359—multiply by 5, the answer is 
1,795 ; on dividing this by 2 there is 179 and 
a remainder; you therefore place a5 at the 
end of the line, and the result is again 1,795. 
-- 
Tiie educating agency of character, al¬ 
though the subtlest, is still the mightiest of 
all instrumentalities. The teacher accom¬ 
plishes more by what he is, than by what be 
does. His greatest power is bis own per¬ 
sonality; its measure is the measure of the 
virtue that is in him. 
five to me the other day. 
We often look from the valley upon the 
peak of the mountain as it stands out clear 
and defined in the morning sunlight, and ad¬ 
mire it. We think we will climb to its sum¬ 
mit, but because wc can at any time, we do 
not, until finally, perhaps, we are forced by 
circumstances to do so. Then the glorious 
range of view, Ihc thousand beauties of the 
landscape spread before us, the broader out¬ 
look helps us to wish we had realized it. be- 
(MIV. | 
So, I find wc do not know how much wc 
have lost as we have traveled hi the valley, 
until we have, climbed the mountain sides 
of life for the more extended view we get 
therefrom. _ 
Yesterday I called upon a family whoso 
life has been one of ups and downs so far as 
externals and accessories go, and yet. one of 
uniform serenity and loveliness so far as t.ho 
relative lif'cs of Us members arc concerned. 
Poor in purse at the start; then rich, and 
again poor. 
1 asked one, “ Why is it you arc always so 
happy—all of you seem equally so. Do not 
the vicissitudes of fortune bring any abiding 
annoyances ?” 
The answer:—“ We arc happy because we 
are always united. What one possesses be¬ 
longs to the other. What one aims to ac¬ 
complish, all concentrate their effort upon 
to insure success. One’s triumph over a 
difficulty Is the triumph of all, and all re¬ 
joice. One's failure is the failure of all, and 
our united philosophy and joint cheerfulness 
prevents depression in consequence. We 
have learned that in union there is strength, 
even in the midst of our worst failures— 
strength of soul and growth of faith in tho 
future. So we are as cheery as a family of 
larks.” 
And this, 1 thought, ought to be the result 
of all family organization. Father and sons, 
mother and daughters, ought to be, in every 
helpful sense, joint stock corporations, Else 
what, is the use of the family? Else why 
need the son know his father or the daughter 
her mother ? And here lies the parent’s 
duty—to so weave the web of family devo¬ 
tion and interest that it can only wear out— 
never be unraveled. 
“ If I were a man— ” 
“But you are not,” I interrupted, “and 
hence cannot, by any possibility, properly 
say what you would do if you were,” I re¬ 
sponded to a woman full of spirit and vitality. 
“ But if I were — ” 
“You cannot be. Nor can you suppose 
yourself to be. The truth is, no man can 
say what he would do were he a woman, nor 
can any woman say what she would do were 
she a man. It is folly to talk so." 
“ But I’ll tell you what I think I would do 
were 1 a man.” 
“ Ah! that will answer. Now I will 
listen.” 
“ Well, then, I would be too manly to ridi¬ 
cule a woman, no matter how ridiculous she 
might make herself.” 
“ Very well; but do you not know a little 
shafts enter him without betraying con¬ 
sciousness.” 
“ Then you think a man to he, so far as 
fine mental and moral sensibilities are con¬ 
cerned, the supposed Salamander, who can 
endure fire. Would you care to shoot at 
him if you supposed he would not wince 
when you hit him ? You might as well talk 
at a ham door! No, no! There is no sox 
in sentiment, nor in the mental and moral 
qualities. If there is, I have not discovered it.” 
Such was the talk with one woman — a 
phase of Every-Day Life. 
. -♦♦♦-- 
QUEEN DIDO. 
Real life in the days of the ancients was 
often strangely romantic. Them is nothing 
in fiction more wonderful than the stories of 
kings and queens of “ye olden time; ” and 
among the queenly characters of early his¬ 
tory, Dido figured in a very romantic w T ay. 
She was bom in Tyre, and was married to 
one of the richest Phoenicians, who was also 
a priest of Hercules. But her happy mar¬ 
ried life was cut short. Iler husband was 
murdered by her brother, Pygmalion, king 
of Tyre, whose purpose it was to secure the 
victim’s vast wealth. This failed, however, 
for the spirit of Dido’s husband appeared to 
her in a dream, disclosed the crime, besought 
her to flee, and informed her where she 
could find his treasures, which Pygmalion 
sought in vain. 
Dido therefore set sail for Africa, w ith all 
her possessions and a company of faithful 
followers. Landing not far from Utica, a 
Tyrian colony, they were received with the 
greatest kindness, and there the fugitives 
settled, and built the citadel of Byrsa, and 
afterwards Carthage, which soon became an 
important place. This was about the year 
888 B. C. Dido’s life now seemed a prosper¬ 
ous one, but its tragic end was not far off. 
Iarras, a neighboring prince, paid his ad¬ 
dresses to her, and feeling unwilling to ac¬ 
cept, and unable to refuse, his proposals, 
she sacrificed herself upon the funeral pile. 
Vmom's narrative of the event is very pretty, 
but more poetical than truthful, as be attrib¬ 
utes her death to the faithlessness of zEneas, 
who lived two hundred years earlier. 
---•*-*•«■-- 
AN OLD LEGEND. 
There is a beautiful legend illustrating 
the blessedness of performing our duty at 
whatever cost to our own inclinations. A 
beaut iful vision of our Saviour bad appeared 
to a monk, and in silent bliss he was gazing 
upon it. The hour arrived at which he was 
to feed tho poor of the convent. He lingered 
not in his cell to enjoy the vision, but he left 
to perform his humble duly. When he re¬ 
turned he found the blessed vision still wait¬ 
ing for him, and uttering these words: 
“ Had’st thou stayed 1 must have tied.” 
' ■ «♦»-—— 
He who “jumps to conclusions” very 
often concludes by jumping back again, or, 
if lie rebounds not sufficiently to get back, 
falls betwixt the two, and loses himself al¬ 
together. 
TO GERALD MASSEY. 
“ ’Tis coming up tho steep of Time, 
Ami this old world t*growing brighter! 
Wo may not fool Its dawn sublime. 
Yet high hopes make the heart throb lighter.” 
Brave singer of the coming time, 
Each song of thine is deeply freighted 
With words that barn,and thoughts sublime. 
To freedom ever consecrated. 
Oh, strew them broadcast o’er the land, 
Tho Boll is ready for the seeding. 
That hungry souls with outstretched hands 
May stand no longer vainly pleading. 
A better time Is coming soon,— 
A brighter and more genial morning, 
A higher life—that priceless boon,— 
Is on the tolling masses dawning. 
To every lofty strain of thine 
Humanity shall pause and listen, 
And feel a thrill of Joy divine, 
And hearts will throb and eyes will glisten. 
What though t.ho hopes for which you toiled, 
Were slow to reach their full fruition, 
What though thy page be labor-soiled - 
It breathes the toiler’s deep petition. 
And tears will ditu tho poor man’s ore, 
While glancing o’er thy lines of beauty 
That nerve him on, to live and die 
In works of love and deeds of duty. 
Then battle on in freedom’s cause, 
Success will crown thy high endeavor, 
And honest men nnd righteous laws 
Shall guide and rule the earth forever. 
And still ring out thy stirring strain— 
Thy lofty soul ean sing no other— 
Till justice rends each bondman’s chain 
And plenty greets each toiling brother. 
[(.'rout P, Robinson. 
(2) 
fetorws for Ihmtliste. 
ONLY A C OUN TRY GIRL, 
BY JAMES LESTER. 
“ You are mistaken; I would rather die 
than marry a mere country girl.” 
“ But, Fred, suppose her intelligent, full 
of natural poetry, tender-hearted, graceful, 
unspoiled by admiration, a guileless, simple, 
loving creature ?” 
“Oli,” saitl Fred, laughing, “choice se¬ 
lection of virtues and grace. Country beau¬ 
ties arc always sweet, and so are country 
cows. No, 1 tell you if she was as lovely as 
an angel, with the best, sense in the world, 
still if unskilled in literature and music, with 
no soul above churns and knitting needles, I 
would not marry her for a fortune.” 
“ Ha, ha!” laughed Helen Irving. Hid¬ 
den by the trunk of a tree, she sat reading, 
within a few feet of the egotist. 
In another moment the young lady came 
in sight. Fred’s face crimsoned, and lie 
whispered in visible trepidation, “Do you 
think she heard me?” 
“No,” rejoined the other audibly—“she 
shows no resentment; she has not even 
looked from her book. You arc safe,” 
Leaning on one white arm, the okl oak 
tree in the back-ground, flowers strewed 
around her, she sat quite at ease, apparently 
unconscious that two handsome young gen¬ 
tlemen were near her. 
Approaching with a low how, upon which 
his mirror had set the faultless elegance, 
Frederic Lane took the liberty of asking 
if the young lady would inform him where 
Mr. Irving lived ? 
With an innocent smile the lady looked up. 
“Mr. Irving, the only one living in the 
village, is my father,” said she, rising in a 
graceful and charming manner. “ The large 
house on high ground, half hidden by trees 
and thick shrubbery; there is where we 
live.” 
Fred replied with n very graceful bow. 
“ Tell your father,” said he, “ I shall do 
myself the honor to call on him to-morrow, 
lie will remember me,— Frederic Lane, at 
your service.” 
“ Yes sir, I will tell him,” said Helen, 
tucking her sleeves around her pretty arms, 
and making rather a formal curtesy. Then 
catching up her books and gathering the 
scattering flowers, she hurried home. 
“Now father, mother, aunt, and sis,” ex¬ 
claimed the merry girl, bounding into the 
room where the family were at supper, “so 
sure as you and I live, that Mr. Lane you 
talk so much about is in the village, lie 
will call here to-morrow—the first specimen 
of a oily beau, (as, of course, he will be,) all 
sentiment, refinement, faultless in kid and 
dickey, important and self-assured as one of 
the kind cun possibly be. Promise me, all 
of you, that you will not lisp one word about 
music, reading and writing in liis presence, 
because 1 have a plan. Father will not, i 
know; and if you, sis, will bo quiet and ask 
uo questions, 1 will give you that work box 
you have coveted so long.” 
“ Why, on that condition I’ll he as still as 
a mouse, but what’s the reason?” 
“ Oh! that’s my owu business,” said 
Helen, dancing out of the room. 
Helen sat at the open window, through 
which roses thrust their blushing buds, 
making both sweet shade and a fragrance. 
The canary overhead burst forth every mo¬ 
ment in wild snatches of glorious music. 
Helen was at work on long blue stockings, 
nearly finished, and her fingers flew like 
snow birds. 
“You knit most admirably. Are you 
fond of it?” 
