icebergs, cold, reserved, unapproachable and self-contained. In their presence you involuntarily draw your wraps closer around you, as you wonder who left the door open. These refrigerated human beings have a most depressing influence on all those who fall under the spell of their radiated chilliness. But there are other natures, warm, helpful, genial, who are like the Gulf Stream, following their own course, flowing undaunted and undismayed in the ocean of colder waters. Their presence brings warmth and life and a glow of sunshine, the joyous, stimulating breath of spring.

There are men who are like malarious swamps,-poisonous, depressing and weakening by their very presence. They make heavy, oppressive and gloomy the atmosphere of their own home; the sound of children's play is stilled, the ripples of laughter are frozen in their presence. They go through life as if each day were a new big funeral, and they were chief mourners. There are others like the ocean; they are constantly bracing, stimulating, giving new draughts of tonic, life and strength by their presence. There are men who are insincere in heart, and that insincerity is radiated by their presence. They have a wondrous interest in your welfare,-when they need you. They put on a "property" smile so suddenly when it serves their purpose, that it seems the smile must be connected with some electric button concealed in their clothes. But they never play their part absolutely true, the mask will slip down sometimes; their cleverness cannot teach their eyes to look the look of sterling honesty; they may deceive some people, but they cannot deceive all. There is a subtle power of revelation which makes us say: 'Well, I don't know how it is, but I know that man is not honest.'

Man cannot escape for one moment from this radiation of his character, this constantly weakening or strengthening of others. He cannot evade the responsibility by

saying it is an unconscious influence. He can select the qualities that he will permit to be radiated. He can cultivate sweetness, calmness, trust, generosity, truth, justice, loyalty, nobility, and make them vitally active in his character, and by these qualities he will constantly affect the world. To make our influence felt we must live our faith, we must practice what we believe. It is useless for a mother to try to teach gentleness to her children when she herself is cross and irritable. The child who is told to be truthful and who hears a parent lie cleverly to escape some little social unpleasantness is not going to cling very closely to truth. The parent's words say, 'don't lie,' the influence of the parent's life says, 'do lie.' No individual is so insignificant as to be without influence. We should be not merely an influence,we should be an inspiration. By our very presence we should be a tower of strength to the hungry souls about us." Here again the application is obvious.

Time is required—and not a little of it either—to make anything permanent in the formation of character. Most people will believe it if they are sincere with themselves and have good memories; it cannot be made in a factory like soap, pins and shoestrings-millions at a time with no variations. Each child that comes to us is a new problem and should be studied and solved in the light of what faith teaches us is the value of an immortal soul. No fixed rules can be given, for in the realm of souls no two are alike, nor have they similar needs.

There is time to touch on only a few of those virtues which the teacher should practice and these should be an evidence to the pupils that her life's work is modeled on that of the world's great teacher-Christ. Then and then only may she hope to see the virtues taught by Him reflected in the lives of her young charges. As the character of Christ was an embodiment of all virtues so should the teacher's endeavor be to imitate Him and thus

become a safe model for her pupils. Patience is much needed. And why not be patient with the children? Barrie says, "The life of every man and woman is a diary in which he means to write one story and writes another; and the humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." Children are not different. Genuineness in the teacher goes far toward developing the same trait in pupils. T. B. O'Hara writes: "In all superior people, there is a directness, a lack of evasion and subterfuge, an inherent candor and simplicity. From such as these, with the hearts of little children, truth sounds more true because all smallnesses and obstructions have been lived down or trained away." Meekness and humility are the virtues our Master would have us practice: "Learn of Me." In teaching the world this lesson He offers himself as the model we should copy.

In every work done by man the end is reached by means appropriate to the end and in harmony with the dignity of the act. In her endeavor to accomplish the end of her work, the teacher will find that nothing will be of greater importance than the exercise of tact. The study of literature will furnish many illustrations worth noting. In George Eliot's great novel we find Savonarola's dealings with Romola worthy of attention. He possesses the art of suggesting effectively. He has that quiet power of taking it for granted that he will be obeyed. "You are fleeing in disguise" means you are a hypocrite, liar, coward, but he does not use these words. There is no harshness in his tone; it is the quiet statement of the truth which arouses no antagonism. He does not hurry her; he is patient but firm. In the same novel we find Dino's message to Romola failed for want of tact; it was not given in the proper solvent. Romola could see nothing in his conduct but inhumanity to his family and that repelled her. "Ofttimes our very virtues slay our virtues." Often an otherwise good teacher fails in her most cherished efforts

because in an unguarded moment she lets a word fall that casts a reflection on the family, home or nationality of the child. The art of pleasing should be cultivated. We find this in a high degree in Tito Melema; he always knows what to say and do. We may have well-nigh unbounded influence on a person if we can get near enough to win his confidence. Tito has vices that become his ruin, but we need not dwell on them. A teacher surrounded by a barrier of ice, cold, stiff and formal does not compare well with the world's model Teacher who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me." To be sure, a teacher should possess a certain amount of dignity but if she is and has all that should qualify her, she will not be obliged to demand respect, her very personality will command it.

Again humility and self-sacrifice must not be overlooked. There will be conflicts at times even in the best regulated schools; in those moments when the thought of our own dignity and all that is our due in this or that position arises, we enter a world of darkness and doubt and the question arises: What are we going to do about it? Shall the child be expelled that better order may be maintained; that we may have less trouble; that none may differ from us; shall we send him adrift knowing that there is no influence to save him in his home or on the streets where he will spend much of his time? At times the longer we reflect the darker and deeper grow the valleys, the more threatening the ravines, the more lowering the clouds, but high above all on a hill, the hill of Calvary, we see the value set on, and the price paid for human souls, a voice says, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." Here is the answer. There are times when the cold steel of the law justifies us and we can turn a child away without violating duty in its ethical sense, but are we doing all that can be done if we justify ourselves in this way? This is ideal, and Halpin

says (Christian Pedagogy, p. 122): "Respect for ideals is fast waning, and everything that savors of lofty aspiration is called quixotic. And Father Ryan says:

"In the world each Ideal,

That shines like a star on life's wave,
Is wrecked on the shores of the Real,
And sleeps like a dream in the grave."

Even though respect is passing; even though it is wrecked on the shores of the Real, would we be better without it? Should we have no guiding star on high? The trial may cost you sorrow. Savonarola urges (Romola): "Make your sorrow an offering; and when the fire of divine charity burns within you, and you behold the need of your fellow-mortals by that flame you will not call the offering great." In "The Light of the Vision" (Ave Maria) by Christian Reid see what Mrs. Raynor did for the salvation of the soul of a man she disliked and who had been little less than a brute to her She was bound by no law-her confessor assured her of that—still she made the sacrifice and the result was one of those that make the angels rejoice. If she had refused, what a tragedy might have been. Here again the application needs no comment.

On the other hand the affection and sympathy exercised toward the children should not be of such a nature as to spoil them or make weaklings of them. Foolish fondness that pampers, develops selfishness and sentimentality and hence are created such characters as Tito Melema, and "The Sentimentalist" of whom Rev. Hugh Benson has written. Anna Payson Call has a good chapter on this in "Power Through Repose."

If any one thinks that the conduct of the teacher in the class room does not affect the pupil's welfare, provided she teaches the subjects required by the course of study in her school let her follow Dodd Weaver in the "Evolution of Dodd" and see him as he passes from teacher to