The Touch Of Nature
by
“There is,” wrote the authorities with a rare enthusiasm, “no greater power for the mental, moral and physical uplifting of the Child than a knowledge and an appreciation of the Beauties of Nature. It is the duty and the privilege of the teacher to bring this elevating influence into the lives of the children for whom she is responsible.” There are not many of the Beauties of Nature to be found on the lower East Side of New York, and Miss Bailey found this portion of her duty full of difficulty. Excursions were out of the question, and she discovered that specimens conveyed but crudely erroneous ideas to the minds of her little people. She was growing discouraged at the halting progress of the First Reader Class in Natural Science, when, early in October, the Principal ushered into Room 18, Miss Eudora Langdon, Lecturer on Biology and Nature Study in a Western university, a shining light in the world of education, and an orator in her own conceit.
“I shall leave Miss Langdon with you for a short time, Miss Bailey,” said the Principal when the introductions had been accomplished. “She is interested in the questions which are troubling you, and would like to speak to the children if you have no objection.”
“Surely none,” replied Miss Bailey; and when the Principal had retired to interview parents and book-agents, she went on: “I find it difficult to make Nature Study real to the children. They regard it all as fairy-lore.”
“Ah, yes,” the visitor admitted; “it does require some skill. You should appeal to their sense of the beautiful.”
“But I greatly fear,” said Teacher sadly, “that the poor babies know very little about beauty.”
“Then develop the ideal,” cried Miss Langdon, and the eyes behind her glasses shone with zeal. “Begin this very day. Should you like me to open up a topic?”
“If you will be so very good,” said Teacher, with some covert amusement, and Miss Langdon, laying her note-book on the desk, turned to address the class. Immediately Nathan Spiderwitz, always on the alert for bad news, started a rumour which spread from desk to desk–“Miss Bailey could to be goin’ away. This could be a new teacher.”
“My dears,” Miss Eudora began, with deliberate and heavy coyness; “I’m so fond of little children! I’ve always loved them. That’s why your kind Principal brought me here to talk to you. Now, wasn’t that good of him?”
At this confirmation of their fears the First Reader Class showed so moderate a joy that Miss Langdon hurried on: “And what would you like me to tell you about?”
“Lions,” said Patrick Brennan promptly. “Big hairy lions with teeth.”
The visitor paused almost blankly while the children brightened. Miss Bailey struggled with a rebellious laugh, but Miss Langdon recovered quickly.
“I shall tell you,” she began serenely, “about Beauty. Beauty is one of the greatest things in the world. Beauty makes us strong. Beauty makes us happy. I want you all to think–think hard–and tell me what we can do to make our lives more beautiful.”
Fifty-eight pairs of troubled eyes sought inspiration in the face of the rightful sovereign. Fifty-eight little minds wrestled dumbly.
“Well, I suppose I must help you,” said Miss Eudora with elephantine sprightliness. “Now, children, in the first place you must always read beautiful books; then, always look at beautiful things; and lastly, always think beautiful thoughts.”
“Miss Langdon,” Teacher gently interposed, “these children cannot read very much–twenty-five words perhaps–and for the majority of them, poor little things, this school-room is the prettiest place in the world.”
“Oh, that’s all right. My text is right there,” said the visitor, with a nod towards a tree, the only large one in the district, which was visible through the window. It had not yet lost its leaves, and a shower during the preceding night had left it passably green. Turning to the children, now puzzled into fretful unhappiness, she clasped her hands, closed her eyes in rapture, and proceeded: