odic transitions of his mind clearer, his power to concentrate his faculties stronger. Expression will begin to be the result of an act of thought, and not a mere mechanical act. While artificial and mechanical methods of recitation develop verbal or accidental memory, true methods of vocal expression are the best modes of developing the power of philosophic memory. Besides, the teacher, with an understanding of the proper action of the mind and its relation to expression, will be able to test the mental action of the student. He can see whether the student is merely repeating words, whether all attention is upon accidents, or whether he really thinks each idea adequately.

Thus, true work in Vocal Expression can be made an important aid to education. There is no process of recitation, no form of explanation in any department which does not, more or less, use Vocal Expression. It is, in fact, a phase of all departments of education rather than a department in itself. But it is also a separate department, and though it is so universally misunderstood and neglected, it must find a definite place in any true educational system.

The teacher of Vocal Expression must be broad enough to give general counsel on the evil tendencies in the thought processes of students. He can be an aid to other teachers in other departments, and they to him. When such evil tendencies are pointed out to him, he is the one to eradicate them most directly. While the correction of such evils belongs in a secondary sense to all forms of education, the work belongs primarily and essentially to the teacher of expression.

With what subject, what form of literature, and what kind of literature should a student begin? With the simplest and best; the simplest lyrics. Songs are the first, most essential, and most fundamental expression of the spontaneous action of the creative faculties and emotional powers of man. The lyrics of a people show their spirit more adequately than any other means; their loves and hates, their patriotism and ambitions, their ideas

and aims. Next to this is the story. The latest popular movement in literature, the short story, is a very important one in its bearing upon Vocal Expression. These short stories can be easily abridged, or arranged for recitation. They are often simple and truly dramatic.

Forms of literature can of course be selected for the student so as to meet his needs; yet ordinarily, for criticism, the work chosen should be the student's own; at any rate, the arrangement of it. His own taste must guide him. The teacher can thus see his needs and note his growth and progress, and the development of his taste for the best literature. Care must be taken, however, that the selections are not too difficult. A selection too subtle or complex to be assimilated by the student may cause stiltedness and destroy simplicity.

Ballads, too, are well adapted for practice in Vocal Expression. Old ballads are simple in form, dramatic in spirit, and are the fountain-head of modern English poetry. The events of the story in all true ballads, ancient or modern, are simply told. Old ballads may be made the means of leading the student to appreciate later and higher literary art. For example, a study of the old ballad on the death of Arthur may lead the student to a higher appreciation of "The Passing of Arthur," by Tennyson, which is a species of translation of the old story into modern imagery and modern poetry.

Longfellow is a good author to study for poetic stories. His language is beautiful and easy to understand. The "Tales of a Wayside Inn" and many of his other narrative poems are simple and universally popular. No one who has any love for poetry whatever will fail to appreciate them. Students whose imaginations have been repressed may have their love of poetry stimulated by the study of such simple work.

One important point must not be forgotten; the student must have little or no help in the preparation of selections for criticism. Specific lessons must be given, and definite steps in

training taken; to these too much attention can hardly be given. A line or a part of a poem may be required to be given at times in a specific way. But when a student is preparing a recitation, he must be absolutely free from all rules and restraints; he must be alone. Each heart must commune with poetry and art, as far as possible, without dictation.

One chief cause of the degradation of elocution is the custom of coaching. If a student wishes to make a speech, he immediately goes to some teacher. He must be told when and where to make a gesture; he must be told every inflection he is to make; he must be told even what piece to select; he must be told everything. He pays his teacher to give him these that he may obtain this or that prize. So long as elocution allows itself to be a slave to such a custom as coaching, so long as some of our leading institutions expect the teacher of elocution to prepare a show at the close of school, by coaching and cramming the students for a special occasion, instead of developing their personality and power, so long will elocution be despised. It cannot rise above such shackles; for as long as the public holds success in coaching as the highest conception of the practice of elocution, so long will it be considered outside of the realm of true education; it will be recognized simply as a necessary evil, something to be tolerated, but not encouraged beyond a certain point; as something which may serve at a pinch as a substitute for poor work in other departments, but of no real educational advantage in itself.

Of course there is a form of coaching where the teacher carefully observes and shows the student the effort and conception of his own mind. But he never dictates, he draws out. He gives no gesture, no inflection; he simply observes the student, and shows him where he fails to actualize his own conceptions and ideals. He does not cram, does not dominate; never demands of the student to imitate him. He lets the student select his own extract, arrange it himself, and study it alone. The

work must be the student's own; he must be true to his own temperament and to his own personality. The teacher only tries to awaken his instincts, to inspire him with a conception of his highest possibilities.

But such work is rare, and students are often impatient with it. Such a method, however, is the only one in accord with true principles of education; the only one that will truly develop the man, and be of permanent value.

A

XLVL CRITICISM AND APPRECIATION.

FTER execution comes the necessity of suggestion and criticism on the part of the teacher. Here we come to a very important phase of the subject. No word is more abused than criticism; no work is more misconceived.

Criticism is not fault-finding. Of course, there are a few external faults, such as pronunciation, qualities of the voice, the hand behind the back, or in the pocket, on which almost anyone can make suggestions. But these are not important faults; they are only accidental, and do not belong to the real problem of delivery. But even in these things there is great danger of confusing peculiarities with faults. If every imperfect feather was removed from the most beautiful oriole, there would not be one feather left. There is no such thing as absolute perfection except in mechanical work. Things may be made alike; mechanical work may be made so as to seem absolutely perfect; but a measuring rod of correctness cannot be applied to anything in nature. The limbs of a tree cannot be measured. The diameter of the tree or the height may possibly be given; but to measure the angles, the directions, and multitudinous variations of the million little twigs is wholly impossible. There is no such thing as a perfect leaf among all the forests of earth. "All goes by approximation in this world."

Thus artistic criticism cannot be judicial. Judicial criticism,

or comparing one thing with another, is of very little consequence. It is not a question even with the student himself as to how he ranks with other students. The entire idea of ranking must be forgotten in the work of recitation. The fact is, "prize declamations" and other "contests" do more harm than good. All students cannot be measured by one standard.

The teacher must appreciate first of all the temperament and special powers, the intention, and the ideals of the student. True criticism is a comparison of the actual with the ideal. It is first necessary to understand the possibilities of a student. The greatest faults may be signs of the greatest power. Criticism is not finding fault, nor passing judgment. It is an endeavor to show the student wherein he actualizes his own ideal, and wherein he fails to do his best.

There are two great dangers in criticising; first, finding fault; and second, trying to compare judicially everything with an abstract general standard. But there are other faults, one of which is flattery; this is one of the greatest dangers in elocution. It is an endeavor to encourage the student; but there is no greater discouragement to an earnest pupil than the fact that there is a failure to appreciate his effort and struggle, or the possibility and necessity of his growth. The fundamental desire of the student is to have his teacher penetrate through his struggles, failures as well as successes, to his ideal intention. To be told that all is well is most discouraging to the one who has a noble ideal. He knows that this is not true; he longs to know why his grasp fell so far short of his reach. Browning's expression, “A man's reach should exceed his grasp," states a universal experience. One of the first requisites of criticism is to show the student the direction of his own reach and the character of his grasp: wherein they agree, and wherein they are antagonistic. If the grasp is in the direction of the reach, and the reach is in the right direction, or if it is in accordance with the student's own instinct, intuition, and ideal, then a recitation is a great