d stocked, and
he attended it every day, going home to dinner regularly. One day he
appeared to be having a meal on the shop counter, and it was explained
that he had been "rather in a hurry" in the morning, so Mrs. Bird had
given him his breakfast to take with him. The Bird family had various
adventures, they had spring cleanings, removals, visited the Zoo and
went to the seaside. One morning a little fellow sat in a trolley with
the Bird family beside him for three-quarters of an hour evidently
"imagining." I did inquire in passing if it was a drive or a picnic, but
the answer was so brief, that I knew I was an interruption and retired.
But a younger and bolder inquirer, who wanted to conduct an experiment
in modelling, ventured to ask if Mr. Bird wanted anything that could be
made "at clay modelling." "Yes, he wants some ink-pots for his
post-office shop," was the answer, with the slightly irate addition,
"but I _wish_ you'd call it the china factory."

When these children moved to an upper class, Mr. Bird was laid away, but
the children requested his presence. So he entered the new room and
became a farmer. He had now to write letters, to arrange rents, etc.,
and the money had to be made and counted. The letters served for writing
and reading lessons, and Miss Payne was careful to send the answers
through the real post, properly addressed to Mr. Bird with the name of
class and school. Mr. Bird hired labourers, the children grew corn, and
thrashed it and sent it to the mill. A miller had to be produced, and
the children, now his assistants, ground the wheat, and Mr. Bird came in
his cart to fetch the sacks of flour, which ultimately became the Birds'
Christmas pudding and was eaten by the labourers, now guests at the
feast. In spring, after careful provision for their comfort, Mr. Bird
went to the cattle market and bought cows. Though the milking had to be
pretence, the butter and cheese were really made.

The first question of the summer term was, "What's Mr. Bird going to do
this term?" Like other teachers inspired by Professor Dewey, we have
found our children most responsive to the suggestion of playing out
primitive man. But with some, not of course with the brightest, it is
too great a stretch to go at one step from the present to the most
primitive times, and we often spend a term over something of the nature
of Robinson Crusoe, where the situation presents characters accustomed
to modern civilisation and dep