The question of light has a direct bearing on the children's behavior. Ask any school teacher, if you have never had occasion to notice it yourself, which days are the noisiest in her school-room, the bright, sunny ones, or the dingy days when it is difficult to see clearly across the room. Ask her if the pencils don't drop on the floor oftener, if small feet do not tramp and scrape more, if chairs don't tip over with louder reports, if tempers are not more keenly on edge, on a dark day than a bright one. I need not say "yes," for one hundred out of a hundred will say it emphatically. So, if you cannot have a room bright with sunshine, do at least be lavish with artificial light, for your own peace of mind. Floors rendered noiseless by some good covering help wonderfully to keep voices pitched low. I have seen this illustrated almost amusingly in Newark, where frequent visits of large classes were made from the schools to the public library. The tramp of forty or fifty pairs of feet in the marble corridors made such a noise that the legitimate questions and answers of children and librarian had to be given in tones to be heard over the noise of the feet. The change that came over the voices and faces as the class stepped on the noiseless "Nightingale" flooring of the great reading room was almost funny. The feet made no noise, therefore it was not necessary to raise the voice to be heard, and no strictures of attendants were needed to maintain quiet in that room. Under the head of furniture I will give only one or two hints of things worth remembering. One is that whatever you decide upon for a chair, in point of size, shape, or style, make sure, before you pay your bill, that it cannot be easily overturned. If you have a chair that will tip over every time a child's cloak swings against it, your wrinkles will multiply faster than your years warrant. And reason firmly with your electrician if he has any plan in mind of putting lamps on your tables of such a sort that they positively invite the boy of a scientific (or Satanic) turn of mind to astonish the other children by the way the lights brighten and go out, all because he has discovered that a gentle pressure to his foot on the movable plug under the table can be managed so as to seem purely innocent and accidental while he sits absorbed in the contents of his book. I would also ask why it is that librarians think we need so MUCH furniture, when our rooms are as small as they sometimes are? We seem to think it inevitable that the floor space should be filled up with tables, but, as Mr. Anderson remarked in his paper at Magnolia, if we saw a family at home gathered around the table, leaning their elbows upon it and facing the light, we should think it a very unnatural and unhygienic position to adopt. Why should we, in the library, encourage children to do just what physiologists tell us they should not do? Why provide tables at all for any but those