THE place of literature in the primary and grammar grades of schools needs neither a defence nor an apology. Being a part of that branch called reading, it is fundamental in the course. The claims set up by branches other than that of reading and speaking English do not concern us here. We assume that the first portion of time in a programme is allotted to this. The object may be dramatic expression in the lower grades, getting the exact thought from a printed page and reproducing it in the upper grades, drill in the mechanical details of the language, such as spelling and pronunciation; or it may be that rare growth of personality that comes, say, through the skilful reading of poetry aloud. Without a fair degree of mastery of the elements of reading and speaking English by the time he completes the grammar grade work, the boy will enter a secondary school or turn to earning a living, ill-equipped either to organize and express his own thoughts, or to find profit and pleasure in gathering the thoughts of another from a printed page--the greatest accomplishment that a school can give to any one. It is rather common to hear a high school student say that he cannot get the story by reading "The Lady of the Lake." This inability is a positive discredit to what should be normal mental vigour; and such a student will be found inefficient for the serious business of life or the refined pleasure of the fireside. Now it behooves teachers to put on their thinking caps and devise ways and means that will help students to get the thought from reading, to tell this thought, and to appreciate the excellencies of good English books. And they must do this single-handed and alone in the day school, for but little help can be looked for from the Sunday school, from many public libraries, and from the home as it is now governed. The child is turned over to the teacher to train, and in that child lurk two tendencies of American social life: the hope of getting something for nothing and the passion for constant variety. And these tendencies are unchecked by any exercise of that old-time positive authority in the home, that had much salutary influence on young barbarians. But through a foolish tolerance, the boy drifts into many habits that do not include the exemplary ones of sustained attention, industry, thrift, and self-reliance,--habits that make for efficient life. A royal road to knowledge is expected, and travel thereon is to be unrestricted by respect either for age or for authority. His hay must always be sugared. He becomes a creature of whims, and with this creature the teacher finds his task in hand. What are the reading habits and tastes that he brings from his home, and how can the teacher best improve them?