necessity, the boy who is brighter than his mates has to mark time until those less gifted catch up. In school if a boy is gifted in one study, but lacks in another, he is told to neglect his better study and devote his time to bringing up that in which he is deficient. With this I shall find no fault from the school standpoint. But in our experimental work in the boys' and girls' house we urge the boy to follow his bent, to do still better the thing that he already does well, to indulge his desires and thus to discover himself. In this way we find out his interests, and we feed those interests in the hope that something of value will develop. Even if we find that only a small proportion show keenness, we are repaid, for we remember that, if there had been but ten righteous, the cities of the plain might not have been destroyed. For those who do not find that they have marvellous gifts in any particular line, there has been the result that most of these boys have found some interest, and following up that interest with us, they have established a line of thought that gives them definite occupation and real pleasure. The work under such conditions means that there must be furnished an environment, human and material, which is attractive to the subjects under experiment, and so organised that there is scientific progress. The house has outlying stations in the fifteen branch libraries of the system, where trained observers and workers are doing similar work each day. On Wednesday of each week these librarians meet in conference on their work, and from the pooling of their experiences and the examination of new materials in the shape of books they plan their work for the ensuing week. We recognise that there should be an environment of freedom, so that there will be opportunities for self-expression, an atmosphere as devoid of restraint as possible. This is accomplished by an absence of rules and regulations, and mechanism just sufficient to make the wheels of the organisation turn smoothly and without noise. The creation of an atmosphere is the first essential. Then there is the recognition of the tendency of youth to form groups, the club instinct, or, as it is sometimes called, the 'gang" instinct. Groups of boys and girls are encouraged, each with a leader from among the librarians, and each with a more or less definite object which comes from the group itself. In this way stamp clubs, history clubs, reading clubs, chess clubs, debating clubs, Nature clubs, etc., are formed, and, with a not too elaborate programme, are carried on for a specific length of time. In the very earliest years of our work we take advantage of the dramatic instinct which is characteristic of the majority of boys and girls-and in our case particularly so among those whose parents are of foreign birth—and weekly throughout the year plays adapted from scenes in the books in our libraries are performed Especially valuable and interesting to us in our study of the effectiveness of the drama is to have the play' go on the road,' as it were, to other branches. There is as much difference between the audiences and their reactions to the plays as there would be in Manchester, Edinburgh and Liverpool. That our children may gain confidence, it is often necessary that the younger of our librarians should accept minor rôles in the plays, and sometimes during the year the librarians themselves put on a play. What impresses one who is working with boys and girls in the drama is the instinct they have for historical detail and their marvellous devotion to research that the details of scenery shall be right. They have a feeling for atmosphere that seemingly gets less sensitive as they grow older. Speaking to a boy a few days ago whom I saw as I passed casually through one of the rooms of the house, I asked him if he had seen any good' movies' (cinemas) lately. He said that he hadn't been for some time. I mentioned one very famous historical film and regretted that I had not been able to see it. He said, 'Oh, you wouldn't have liked it. Do you know, one of the actors turned back the sleeve of his left wrist to see what time it was!' Shades of the twelfth century! That picture was entirely spoiled for that boy, but I doubt not thousands of adults have never noticed that anachronism' in that famous moving picture. The boy standing by and listening to our conversation said, 'I like to make the pictures for myself.' On being asked how, he said, 'Why, you just read the book, and you have just got to picture it. You can't help it, and I like my own pictures.' Isn't that, after all, the real moving picture ? And then there is the recognition of the pleasure and value of the story as told by someone who has the ability to tell a story well, the ability that really makes a great novelist. Here is the centre of our work of attracting boys and girls. After some fifteen years of these story hours where the so-called dry, uninteresting and dull facts of history as taught in schools take on a human form, and men and women pass to and fro upon the stage of our national life and are watched in breathless silence by an audience of ordinary boys and girls, we realise what a power lies in the story. There were 50,000 boys and girls in our story hours last year, and we use no moving pictures, no photographs, no magic lantern, but only the dramatic power of the story-teller. I remember having to substitute one Saturday morning for two of our librarians who were away, and therefore over one hundred boys and girls faced me (we try to restrict the attendance at a story to fifty at the most). I told them, at their shouted request, a 'Canadian history story,' and pictured for them Samuel Champlain from the time he was a barefoot boy in the little town of Brouage, on the Bay of Biscay, sitting on the wharf and watching the vessels loading salt, through the growing years till he was old enough to go to war, and he became a young soldier in the army of Henry of Navarre. Here a boy full of excitement called out: Now glory to the Lord of hosts, From whom all glories are, and then on we went through his first sailing experiences, his early journeys to Panama and then to North America, where he sailed up the great river St. Lawrence and just at the narrowing of the stream founded the city which he appropriately called Quebec, and then up to the country of the Algonquins, the Iroquois and the Hurons. At the close a boy asked me if I would answer questions. His was, 'Was this the same Champlain you read about in the history book?' I asked him what the history book said. 'Champlain was a Frenchman who founded Quebec in 1608 on the site of an ancient Indian village called Stadacona.' On my reply that it was he looked astounded, and in the vernacular of the street said, ' Hully gee!' These stories come from books, and hence these books, being interpreted in this dramatic way, become attractive to youth, and the path to knowledge becomes alluring and leads to a definite goal. The stories are not selected in a haphazard way any more than they are told in a haphazard way. There is a plan and a purpose in the work not visible to the boy or girl and not too present in the mind of the librarian. Lest there be someone who wonders yet what is that purpose, let me say it is the development of intelligent Canadian citizens. That they may know that their country, be they native or adopted sons, has a history full of thrilling incidents, heroic endeavour and real national achievement, and that they may have developed in them a patriotism founded on knowledge, is the object which is ever in our minds and never on our lips. Another aspect of this work is the fact that in all these libraries the books are on open shelves, and there is no restriction upon the kind of book a boy or girl may read. The librarian is freed from the mechanical part of the work, and therefore is always ready to advise boys and girls as to the books which they think they might like to read. As they grow older they are encouraged to make decisions for themselves. They will make mistakes, but as they can change their books as often as they like, this is a way of developing what we think is all-important, the ability to use judgment for themselves. About this work there gathers a romance, for it is experimentation with living beings, and it has the added value of being as scientific as social experimentation can be, for it is with living beings unspoiled by conventionalities and therefore with natural and quick reactions. It is romantic without being sentimental, for it is conducted by young persons who are being trained to observe accurately and weigh carefully the weekly results without impairing in any way the natural sympathy of youth with youth. We believe that the majority of persons engaged in such work with boys and girls must always be young in years and of course in attitude. If not, the sympathy that is a necessary part of all social experiment with the young will lose its distinguishing character and hence its social value. GEORGE H. LOCKE. DRINK IN WEST AFRICA SIR HUGH CLIFFORD'S valedictory address to the Legislative Council in Nigeria has just been received, and in it he refers to the wisdom or otherwise of countenancing the trade in imported intoxicating liquors with races in a primitive state of development. His view is that prohibition is unworkable, and it is shared, I believe, by almost every merchant, and probably most of the officials, interested in West Africa. I am as deeply concerned as anyone can be at the severance of Sir Hugh's connection with Nigeria, and appreciate to the full his vigorous and unsparing work while Governor on most questions I would be found in agreement with him, but I cannot readily drop the convictions of a lifetime; and on this we differ fundamentally. I have been actively engaged in the trade with Nigeria for fully forty-five years, and always frankly hostile to the trade in liquor. I estimate social and moral progress as more important than material, and alcohol is, if not fatal, at least a hindrance to both. This is recognised universally, and the fact that liquor is almost everywhere a controlled and not a free trade is indicated by Licensing Laws. In West Africa it is permitted mainly because of its usefulness as a revenue-producing import, and its advocates base their claims for its continuance on that ground. From alcohol the greater portion of the revenue collected in our West African Colonies has been obtained; it has helped to build railways, make roads, and thus provide occupation for a great number of officials. With these advantages have followed the advent of peace in the interior and the introduction of decent government. If these things, however, can be done without revenue from alcohol, and I think they can, then Sir Hugh's reasoning is faulty. It certainly is a fact that prohibition has never really been tried. When I first set foot in Nigeria, apart from the small Colony of Lagos, all that great country, now 346,000 square miles in area, and with a population of nineteen and a half millions, was under native rule. The sole representative of a civilised Government was the British Consul, whose residence was on the Spanish island of Fernando Po, and who visited the mainland when opportunity or necessity arose. There being no Government, there were no |