n the world, but touched upon
all too lightly in family and school.

The student of political economy sees clearly enough the need of
greater thrift and frugality in the nation; but where and when do we
propose to develop these virtues? Precious little time is given to
them in most schools, for their cultivation does not yet seem to be
insisted upon as an integral part of the scheme. Here and there an
inspired human being seizes on the thought that the child should
really be taught how to live at some time between the ages of six and
sixteen, or he may not learn so easily afterward. Accordingly, the
pupils under the guidance of that particular person catch a glimpse of
eternal verities between the printed lines of their geographies and
grammars. The kindergarten makes the growth of every-day virtues so
simple, so gradual, even so easy, that you are almost beguiled into
thinking them commonplace. They seem to come in, just by the way, as
it were, so that at the end of the day you have seen thought and
word and deed so sweetly mingled that you marvel at the "universal
dovetailedness of things," as Dickens puts it. They will flourish
better in the school, too, when the cheerful hum of labor is heard
there for a little while each day. The kindergarten child has "just
enough" strips for his weaving mat,--none to lose, none to destroy;
just enough blocks in each of his boxes, and every one of them, he
finds, is required to build each simple form. He cuts his square of
paper into a dozen crystal-shaped bits, and behold! each one of these
tiny flakes is needed to make a symmetrical figure. He has been
careless in following directions, and his form of folded paper does
not "come out" right. It is not even, and it is not beautiful. The
false step in the beginning has perpetuated itself in each succeeding
one, until at the end either partial success or complete failure
meets his eye. How easy here to see the relation of cause to effect!
"Courage!" says the kindergartner; "better fortune next time, for we
will take greater pains." "Can you rub out the ugly, wrong creases?"
"We will try. Alas, no! Wrong things are not so easily rubbed out, are
they?" "Use your worsted quite to the end, dear: it costs money." "Let
us save all the crumbs from our lunch for the birds, children; do not
drop any on the floor: it will only make work for somebody else."
And so on, to the end of the busy, happy day. How easy it is in the
kindergarten, how