I had heard a grate deal about Miss Beam's school, but not till last week did the chance come to visit it. When I arrived there was no one in sight but a girl of about twelve. Her eyes were covered with a bandage and she was being led carefully between the flower-beds by a little boy, who was about four years younger. She stopped and it looked like she asked him who had come. He seemed to be describing me to her. then they passed on. Miss Beam was all that I had expected-middle-aged, full of authority, yet kindly and understanding. Her hair was beginning to turn grey, and she had to be comforting to a homesick child. I asked her some questions about her teaching methods, which I had heard were simple. NO more than is needed to help them to learn how to do things- simple spelling, adding, subtracting, multiplying and writing. The rest is done by reading to them and by interesting talks, during which they have to sit still and keep their hands quiet. There are practically no other lessons. The real aim of this school is not so much to teach thought as to teach thoughtfulness kindness to others of the window a minute, will you? I went to the window which overlooked a large garden and a playground at the back. What do you see? Miss beam asked. I see some very beautiful grounds, I said and a lot of jolly children. It pains me, though to see that they are not all so healthy and active looking. When I came in I saw one poor little girl being led about. she has some trouble with her eyes. now I can see two more with the same difficulty. and there's a girl with a crutch watching the others at play. she seems to be a hopeless cripple.