Children delight in pictures. Every child-lover knows how intently and with what delight the baby’s eyes gaze upon the pages of the beloved picture book, long before the words which describe the picture can be spoken or even understood by the young student. The childish chatter is an attempt to express the delight in the treasure and the thoughts suggested by the picture.

As the child grows older, pictures continue to be a source of pleasure. He names the familiar objects, talks about them, asks questions about them. Thus he unconsciously grows in the power to see and to tell what he sees, taught by the many willing helpers who turn the pages of his book and interpret its pictures.

Many a new idea creeps into the child’s mind by the path of the picture book. Many an object which would be entirely foreign to his experience otherwise, becomes familiar through its pages. Every new book put into his hands is first challenged by him to discover whether it contains pictures, and it is the pictures that first excite his desire to learn to read the story which they illustrate.

We cannot estimate the contribution which such books make to both knowledge and vocabulary. Most of us can think of scenes which we know only through their pictured semblances, yet seem to know well. We can remember our first glimpses of scenes that pictures had made familiar. How friendly, how well known they seemed! How we were used to them! Niagara, Westminster Abbey, the Pyramids, the Alps, are known to many of us only through pictures. Are we entirely ignorant, then, of their beauty or their grandeur? When our eyes first look upon them, shall we not greet them as already a part of our possession?

We have been slow, in our school work, to follow the teaching of children’s experience. Although we have always known and always recognized the child’s interest in pictures, we have not used them in the school-room to the extent that they might have been used, nor in such a manner as to yield the greatest advantage.

The writer remembers a class of children in whose hands were placed some new readers beautifully illustrated with full-page pictures. The new books, which had just been brought into the room, were given to the children with the brief direction, “Turn to page 85 and begin reading at the top of the page.”

The obedient fingers turned to the page indicated, and the curious eyes were allowed no moment to linger over the pages which tempted them with their fascinating pictures. Yet here was the “Delectable Land,” which might have been opened to them to their lasting advantage. Here the children’s interest was assured, and no artificial incentive needed to be presented.

Another class, under similar conditions, had a different experience.

“Here are new books,” the teacher said to the children. “You will enjoy reading these stories, I know. But you will find pictures in them as well as stories. Before we read let us look at the pictures and enjoy them.”

The children eagerly opened the books. They found, as a frontispiece, a copy of Rosa Bonheur’s “Norman Sire.”

The children talked about the picture, compared the horse with horses that they knew, admired the noble head, the fine eyes. As they turned the pages of their books they found other pictures of animals, “The Lions at Home” and “Coming from the Fair.” Their comments were free, their questions ready. Nobody thought of the picture as a picture. The conversation centred about lions and horses only, and expressed the children’s interest in animals.

It was the teacher who called the attention of the children to the name written underneath the first picture, “Rosa Bonheur.” This, they inferred, must be the name of the one who made the picture.

The teacher then explained that the pictures in the book were copied from photographs of the original pictures which the artist painted. If the children were to see the painting they would find it colored and much larger than the copies.

Looking again and with a new interest at the other pictures, the children discovered the same name written below them. “Did Rosa Bonheur paint this picture, too?” “And this?” “Did she paint any others?” “Does she paint now?” These questions answered, the children asked, “Who painted the picture of the little girl tending the baby?” “Is this the painter’s name under the picture?” “Yes, Meyer von Bremen. On this page you will find another picture of his.” The children found the picture of “The Pet Canary,” and talked earnestly about it. “I like that picture. I wonder if this is the same little girl.” “What queer chairs!” “What a funny window!” “This girl has been knitting, too.”

The teacher threw some light upon the German interior, explaining that this was a picture of a home in the country where the artist lived. Then she questioned, “What did Meyer von Bremen paint for you?” “Children,” was the ready response. “And what did Rosa Bonheur paint?” “Animals,” came quite as readily. “Do the pictures tell you anything about the artists?” The children hesitated. “You remember ‘The Children’s Hour’?” suggested the teacher. “You thought that Mr. Longfellow wrote about children”—“Because he loved children,” volunteered a child, as the teacher paused. “I should think Meyer von Bremen liked children, too,” observed another, thoughtfully. “And Rosa Bonheur must like animals,” added a third.

They turned again to the pictures, and decided, after some discussion, that Rosa Bonheur not only loved animals, but was able to make us love them better by her painting.

The books were closed and carefully put away till time could be given for the reading, which the children now so earnestly desired. The lesson had been a simple one. To some casual observers it might have seemed no lesson at all. “Just looking at pictures!” But it opened to the pupils a new line of thought, and served to illuminate both picture and text. When the children read, the pictures, now made to interpret the text, themselves became teachers.

Though seemingly incidental, the lesson pointed toward such study of pictures as should obtain in every school. One of the greatest pleasures of life is the delight in art, the creations of minds that enjoy the beautiful, and know how to make the world beautiful for others. We have learned to give to young children the poems which the world treasures. They commit these to memory. They learn to sing the hymns which the greatest of musicians have composed. In poetry, in music, we have begun to learn how to teach. But should we not teach the children to know and to love good pictures, as well as good poems and good music?

In too many of our homes the picture is a stranger. Such teaching as tends to interest the children in the picture gallery or the art museum opens another avenue of pleasure and profit, adds one more resource to the lives which must often be hindered and bound. By all means, let us begin it, and learn how to use the wealth of material which lies at our hand.

In a Boston school the teacher has established a loan collection of pictures. The children have the privilege of keeping for a week the framed pictures which they choose to carry home. They learn to enjoy the pictures, and, so to speak, to read them. They look with new interest at all other pictures which come in their way, comparing them with the ones they have come to know. They visit the art museum and study the original from which their pictures are copied. Their lives are enriched by such teaching, their minds are furnished with pleasant memories, and their love of the beautiful is set growing.

Such study has a legitimate place in the school curriculum. Happily, it is now emphasized in some degree in the Drawing. It should also appear in connection with the Reading. The picture is intended to throw light upon the lesson which is illustrated. The children should be taught to read the picture as well as to read the story.

Geography, as it is presented in good schools of the present day, well illustrates the necessity. The picture is often a photographic reproduction of the mountain, the cascade, the geyser, the surf. The text describes, as clearly as words can describe, but the picture is far more faithful. It brings the scene before the eyes of the child, while words, misapplied or misunderstood, often build a wall between the pupil and the scene which they attempt to portray. If the children learn to see all that the picture contains, they are helped in their study of the text. It is the part of wisdom, from the teacher’s point of view, to make much of these aids, even if knowledge getting is the one goal in sight. It can hardly be doubted, however, that all teachers will recognize the greater need which is satisfied by such instruction. To know and to love these things so well worth knowing and loving is quite as worthy of achievement as the mastery of equations or the demonstration of a theorem.

If the Drawing does not admit of the teaching suggested, the Language Lesson, ever hospitably inclined, may be extended to include the study of the picture. Every teacher knows best what pictures she desires to present to her class, but, from common experience, a few inferences may be made.

Certainly the picture chosen for initial study should be one whose subject is interesting to the children, a picture which represents action or suggests a story. Such pictures are Schreyer’s “Imperial Courier,” Meyer von Bremen’s “Little Nurse,” Millet’s “Angelus,” Landseer’s “Saved.” After the children have become interested in the picture they will wish to learn who painted it, just as they desire to know about the poet, after they have come to enjoy the poem. Then they are ready to look at the reprints of the other works of the artist, regardless of subject, and to ask questions about the artist and his works. So the interest deepens and the study grows, following this natural order.

Fortunately the abundance of cheap good reprints, and the careful illustration of text-books, place the means for such study within the reach of every teacher and pupil. It will not be long before the picture will take its proper place with the song and the poem as a factor in elementary education.