d influence than early environment in determining the course of a life. In other words, the child of honest parents, if allowed to grow up in a place where he is subject to vicious influences, will, in all probability, turn out vicious; while, conversely, the child of bad parentage carefully brought up among good influences will, in most cases, turn out well. In the light of the modern point of view let us look again at the little child who is forced to leave the narrow quarters of his is not a good sight for young eyes; a quarrel, with its accompanying unrestrained flow of bad language, is unfit for young There are, too, more exciting incidents a brutal fight, or the pursuit and capture of a thief, with the arrival and departure of the patrol wagon, followed by the whole juvenile population of the block. What sort of child-training is this? And what sort of poison is creeping into tender minds when they can comprehend the significance of sundry painted and gayly dressed women passing I LIKE TO HAVE MINNIE GO TO THE KINDERGARTEN " home for the crowded street. The street is not only his playground, but his school, in which he learns unconsciously, but none the less lastingly, his own first lessons in the book of life. But it is a school that is indifferent to him, not intended nor adapted for him, in which he will pick up little knowledge that does him good, and is likely to learn much that does him harm. For, as he spends the long hours of his waking day playing around and among groups of older people who are engrossed in their own affairs, what sordid and bitter little dramas unfold before his sharp eyes! A drunken man, lurching along, by? All these sights and sounds leave their impressions, often indelible; they are lessons in the school of the street too readily learned. There are other lessons too: of idleness, taught by hours with nothing to do; of uncleanliness, taught by too great familiarity with dirty gutters and unswept pavements; of dishonesty, taught perhaps by admiring observation of some playmate's raid on an apple-stand; of lack of discipline, brought about by never knowing what discipline is. These little children running wild in the street are interesting indeed to thoughtful people. For in observing them one sees the very beginnings, the first tiny streams, of the flood of ignorance, poverty, and vice that almost swamps our charitable societies, our prisons, and our poorhouses. Now, it is incredible that New York, which, with all its wealth and its apparent absorption in the pursuit of more wealth, is a generous city, should have completely neglected the little nomads of its highways. And it has not. In 1889 an associated effort was begun by men and women who desired to extend the kindergarten system in this city. Up to that time there were in existence only a few kindergartens, one in connection with the Normal College, one carried on as an adjunct to the Society of Ethical Culture, and a few others, small and scattered charitable or private institutions. But the idea of these men and women, the founders of the New York Kindergarten Association, was to establish some model kindergartens in districts where the children were in greatest need of them, and in addition to prevail upon the city to establish kindergartens in connection with the public schools. So they planned, and the results have been beyond their expectations. At the beginning of the present school year, in September, 1911, there were 846 kindergartens, caring for 36,000 children, maintained by the city of New York. In addition the New York Kindergarten Association was supporting in the poorest and neediest sections of the bor ough of Manhattan forty splendidly equipped kindergartens; the Brooklyn Free Kindergarten Association was carrying on an equally beneficent work in Brooklyn; and there were, besides, scores of other kindergartens, private, some of a charitable character. some The theory of the kindergarten, play intelligently directed toward educational ends, is commonly understood. But what is by no means so widely known or appreciated is the wonderful agency for happiness and good the kindergarten becomes when it is thrown open to the needy little ones of the tenements. It checks at the source those habits and tendencies which, if left to themselves, will not only prevent a child from rising above the conditions in which he is born, but are apt to drag him down still lower. It provides helpful associations and a favorable environment to one who, through no fault of his own, has been doomed to start life with a heavy handicap. It furnishes the sympathy and wise training that more fortunate chil dren receive in their homes. For all these reasons the philanthropist, weary of efforts five or thirty to the man who is preparing for a profession-it is the time when preparation for the work of life ends, and the work begins. Hence the inestimable value of these few early years, and hence, too, the inestimable value of the kindergarten. For kindergarten training means a better pupil at school, one who will learn more in the limited time at his disposal, one who will add to the little capital of knowledge with which he starts his career in life. It means less probability that at the age of eighteen or twenty he will find himself unskilled, untrained, ready to join the ranks of the unfit and the unemployed. "I It is not to be supposed that the good a kindergarten does is confined to its four walls or to the pupils who meet there. A broad trail leads from it to the homes of its scholars. Many a slovenly home has been cleaned up, and many apathetic, discouraged parents have been encouraged to take a new grip on life, through the lessons that little children have borne from the kindergarten. used to hit Josie something awful before he went to kindergarten, and now I don't," stated one mother frankly-an improved state of affairs not only for Josie but for the mother. And another said: "I like to have Minnie go to the kindergarten, she learns to speak so nice, and corrects us all at home." For, like normal mothers everywhere, these women of the tenement love their offspring, and feel the deep and unselfish mother's pride in seeing them improve. In the case of the New York Kindergarten Association, and others of the private institutions, the impromptu missionary efforts of the pupils are systematically followed up by the teachers, who visit the homes of their charges frequently, and entice the parents to kindergarten lectures and entertainments. Thus, with the child as a common center of interest, the good influences of the kindergarten are exerted powerfully upon the family as well. Through the family the kindergarten extends its influence to the neighborhood. Raise the standard of a dozen families in a block, train a score of children so that they can play together without fighting, cheating, and swearing, and, like the leaven in the lump, they will improve the whole tone of that community. Settlement workers know this, and regard the kindergarten as one of the most indispensable of their tools. This, then, is the splendid mission of the kindergarten in the overcrowded districts of New York-to minister to the little ones whose homes are open to them only at mealtime and bed-time, and who have no playground and no school but the street. It rescues them from a careless and often dangerous environment, surrounds them with favorable influences, and, day by day, patiently and wisely instills the first lessons in character-building, cultivates the early activities of little brains. It puts to good uses the first susceptible years, which otherwise would be wasted, or worse. Like the best practice of modern medicine, it works along lines of prevention rather than cure. Like the best practice of modern philanthropy, it aims at formation, not reformation. It is lessening the sad procession of juvenile offenders which makes its way yearly through the courts; reaches the child before he gets down, influences his parents to raise the standard of the home. It is starting thousands of little children safely along the way that leads to useful and happy lives. If the people of New York clearly understood how directly, economically, and effectively the kindergarten is working against the forces of ignorance, poverty, and crime, one wonders how long it would be before a kindergarten should be supplied for every child in the metropolis who needs one. For, in addition to the 36,000 cared for by public school kindergartens, and, in round numbers, the 12,000 who have access to charitable and private institutions, there are, according to the Census of 1910, 150,000 other children between the ages of three and six for whom no kindergartens exist. And many of these are growing up in the careless, unfruitful, dangerous way that could be remedied so speedily and so surely by kindergartens. It is all so simple and so necessary, this conservation of children. Every citizen knows that the water supply of his city must be kept pure or there is danger impending. Every citizen understands that streets must be cleaned, sewage disposed of, contagious diseases warded off, or there is danger impending. And every citizen, when he stops to think, realizes that his city cannot be safe if its children are neglected. For the future of the city is in their hands; they will people it, work in it, govern it. And the character of the children to-day is a most potent factor in determining the character of the city in years to come. Therefore what kind of conservation is there that is saner, more effective, and more essential than the conservation of the city's children? I BY RUTH SAWYER WITH DRAWINGS BY J. CONACHER T was old Con, the tinker, that sent me on the road to Inver. We had come upon each other half-way from the Crossroads to Carn-na-ween; he driving a newly acquired wizened gray donkey hotfoot for fair-day at Donegal, and I wandering aimlessly. 'If ye are searchin' for a tale, ye'll find one at Inver among the herrin'-fishers, I'm thinkin'. The time's ripe for the spring catch; an' if ye go in Johnnie Dolan's boat, ye'll see what's worth seein' an' hear what's worth hearin'." When he found that I was ready to take the road at once for Inver, he pulled me mysteriously by the sleeve and his voice dropped to a whisper : "Ye must never let on ye was told-nor, by the same token, that ye know aught of it—but Johnnie Dolan was took by the faeries three years past, come St. John's Eve." He paused that I might have time to understand and marvel. Before he continued he looked furtively behind and about him, as it is well to look when one speaks of the Good People. "They fetched him home a fortnight afther, an' left him sleepin' aside his own wee cabin, for the wife to find i' the mornin'. But that's not the whole of it. They left his hat wi' him-brim uppermost― to show the luck was in it." "What luck?" I asked, stupidly. "What but the faeries' luck? And he's had it wi' him ever since. The herrin' come to his boat when there be's not the shimmer of a back nigh the others; that's why I was tellin' ye to go wi' Johnnie Dolan." And so it came about that on that early April day I put out to sea with the herringfishers in search of a tale; and I was in Johnnie Dolan's boat. There were seven stalwart lads besides the old man and me, the stranger. Six lads rowed, a heavy, broadbladed oar to each; the seventh crouched among the nets in the bow, cleaning them of weed and kelp. Johnnie Dolan was astern, the hat tied upon his head with a strip of green veiling, the face under it brown, wrinkled, and soberly eager. I was huddled between the tafts on an overturned creel, keeping silent and small-the condition of my going. Seven boats broke the surf and were swept toward the still waters of the inner bay. Thrice seven pairs of oars churned the little waves about us into foam; and as we passed, |