s observation was close and correct, and his
conservatism more valuable than the enthusiasm of some of his
colleagues who have advocated sweeping use of the supplementary work.
But his point of view ignored the basis of expression, which is to my
mind so important. Paper-cutting is external to English, of course.
Its only connection is in its power to correlate different forms of
expression, and to react on speech-expression through sense-stimulus.
But playing the story is a closer relative to English than this. It
helps, amazingly, in giving the "something to say, the urgent desire to
say it," and the freedom in trying. Never mind the crudities,--at
least, at the time; work only for joyous freedom, inventiveness, and
natural forms of reproduction of the ideas given. Look for very
gradual changes in speech, through the permeating power of imitation,
but do not forget that this is the stage of expression which inevitably
precedes art.

All this will mean that no corrections are made, except in flagrant
cases of slang or grammar, though all bad slips are mentally noted, for
introduction at a more favorable time. It will mean that the teacher
will respect the continuity of thought and interest as completely as
she would wish an audience to respect her occasional prosy periods if
she were reading a report. She will remember, of course that she is
not training actors for amateur theatricals, however tempting her
show-material may be; she is simply letting the children play with
expression, just as a gymnasium teacher introduces muscular play,--for
power through relaxation.

When the time comes that the actors lose their unconsciousness it is
the end of the story-play. Drilled work, the beginning of the art, is
then the necessity.

I have indicated that the children may be left undisturbed in their
crudities and occasional absurdities. The teacher, on the other hand,
must avoid, with great judgment, certain absurdities which can easily
be initiated by her. The first direful possibility is in the choice of
material. It is very desirable that children should not be allowed to
dramatize stories of a kind so poetic, so delicate, or so potentially
valuable that the material is in danger of losing future beauty to the
pupils through its present crude handling. Mother Goose is a hardy old
lady, and will not suffer from the grasp of the seven-year-old; and the
familiar fables and tales of the "Goldilocks" variety have a