I remember long ago a tear-stained book of tables of weights and measures, and a teacher’s impatience with a stupid child who could not master the “tables.” And I have seen a school where the tables were written on a blackboard—thus: “two pints are equal to one quart,” and on a stand in the school-room was a tin pint measure and a tin quart measure, and a box of dry sand. Every happy youngster had a chance to fill that pint with sand and pour the sand in the quart measure. Two pints filled it. He knew it. Did he not see it, did not every boy try it? Ah! Now they knew what it all meant. It was as plain as day that two pints of sand were equal to one quart of sand; and with merry smiles those six-year-old philosophers learned the tables of measures; and they will never forget them. This is, in brief, what is meant by industrial education. To learn by using the hands,—to study from things as well as from books. This is the new school, these are the new lessons. The children who can sew, or design, or draw, or carve wood, or do joinering work, or cast metals, or work in clay and brass, are the best-educated children, because they use their hands as well as their eyes and their brains. You may say that in such schools all the boys will become mechanics, and all the girls become dress-makers. Some may, many will not; and yet whatever they do, be it preaching, keeping a store, or singing in concerts, they will do their work better than those who only read in books. The new schools are the best schools. Will there not be more of them every year? I think parents will see that it is an excellent thing for all boys and girls to learn to use their hands, that not to use the hands at all is to be helpless in the great school we all attend when we are men and women. The exhibition held last March may be only the beginning of a new education wherein the hard lessons of the books, that no little fellow ever could understand, shall give place to bright and interesting books about work and about things. There may yet be shops in every schoolyard, and embroidery frames on every girl’s desk. There will be books, of course, and there also may be tools. There will be examinations indeed, but there may also be in every town an exhibition like the one I have told you of; and the fathers and mothers and all the good people flocking to the schools may see what the children can do with their hands. There will be speeches and recitations and music as now, and there may also be drawings and brasswork, embroidery, and designs in clay and in wood; and every child may be able to work as well as to study. No more tears over unmeaning lessons, but everywhere pleasure and interest because study is joined to work, and to learning is added industry. THE TELL-TALE BARN. BY ESTHER B. TIFFANY.