When a man has repeatedly written the sentence: “The good road is my friend. I will work for the good road,” and “The bad road is my foe. I will get rid of the bad road,” he becomes something of an advocate of good roads through suggestion, if through nothing else. The copying of the script sentences in the book pledged the student to progress and impressed upon him certain evils with fine psychological effect. In the reading lessons on voting, the key-note sentence to be copied was: “The man who sells his vote sells his honor.” This type of copy which was carried throughout the book had, like the reading lessons, a double purpose; the necessary practice in writing and the dwelling on and emphasizing of some vital truth. These took the place of the axioms commonly used in the copy-books for day schools. Instead of writing, “Many men of many minds, Many men of many kinds,” these folk wrote, “I will build a silo,” “I will rotate my crops,” “It is a waste of time and money to raise scrub stock,” “We must protect the forest,” “I will take a newspaper and read it,” “I will keep my money in the bank.” Taxation is the cause of much unintelligent complaint, and some enlightenment on the subject seemed worth while. One lesson read: I shall pay my taxes. I pay a tax on my home. I pay a tax on my land. I pay a tax on my cattle. I pay a tax on my money. I pay a tax on many other things. Where does all this money go? It goes to keep up the schools. It goes to keep up the roads. It goes to keep down crime. It goes to keep down disease. I am glad that I have a home to pay taxes on. The climax of this lesson was truly as much a surprise to the readers as any fiction. As they read of the many things on which they paid taxes and the query, “Where does all this money go?” they expected denunciation to follow, such as the demagogues revel in to confuse and inflame the minds of ignorant voters. Instead they found a reminder and an explanation of the benefits derived from wise and just taxation. One page in the reader was consecrated to the tooth-brush, which was pictured at the top in all its pristine beauty. This lesson was as necessary in some places as the fire-drill is in the city schools. One of our field workers had found on her visits to the different homes in a certain county that brushing her teeth was a performance viewed with wonder, and one that never failed to draw a crowd. At one place where the children of the household gathered round watching this performance one little girl let her curiosity get the better of her and called to her mother indoors, “Mother, what’s she adoin’?” The mother answered in a humiliated tone, “Oh, hush, honey, she’s a brushin’ her teeth. When you git to be a school teacher you kin brush yours.”