plant, and hail with joy every wee shoot that shows itself, every small leaf that unfolds, so anxiously do we watch for growth—germination— caused by our lessons, and our love is all alive in the watching,

Germination-growth-from darkness towards light, from ignorance towards knowledge, from trickiness towards truth, from meanness towards nobleness, from the earthly towards the heavenly, from the human towards the divine.

And surely a second qualification must be patience. How beautifully this quality is expressed in the words, "suffereth long and is kind." We may suffer long, much against our will; we may find others resisting instead of following up the influences with which we seek to draw them, and we may think ourselves justified in manifesting our displeasure about it; there may be sharp words and frowns, but this sort of thing is not patience, for patience is kind. Kindness is not a thing we usually

manifest towards ourselves, you know. We do not give the name to that exercise. Kindness

is the manifestation of our goodwill to others.

All teachers certainly have to suffer long. Are all teachers then patient? Not unless they are also kind while they suffer.

You can easily settle about this qualification so far as your own responsibility goes. How are you affected by the multitudinous peccadilloes of the children you teach? Think of the very worst one now-possibly your whole circulation appears to give a rush as the name or the particular features of this one or that one comes into your mind. "That child is a trial," you say. you say. "Every day work undone, and my wishes disregarded— they spoil my teaching and upset the class." All quite true, I have no doubt. I said just now, all teachers suffer long-the difference is in the way the suffering is borne-is yours a long-suffering kindness?

I have seen a great many cases of trying

children. I am quite sure of this, it is a bad thing to make such children marks of public disapprobation. "Give a dog an ill name and hang him," applies to more than dogs. I am an old teacher-thousands of children have called me by that dear name-and now I say to you, "No matter what a child may be, no matter how black the character it bears when it comes under your care-put all that in the background; let the child feel that you are striving to hide and not expose its faults, and ten to one the child will work to aid you."

Patient, long-suffering, and kind. Your class will know such a one tries and grieves you— they will know it from your loving look and from your, if possible, gentler tone towards the offender; but don't tell them so. Don't hold up such as examples of warning; they are dark enough spots -don't give them an extra coat of paint. If once you do this, if that poor waif once feels, "teacher made them all look at me or laugh at

me," your most powerful hold on that child's heart is gone. Love-to the child as a child, and as a child only. Patience-long-suffering kindness in dealing with it.

And then comes "tact." "Tact," that way of dealing with any evil thing so as not to call into action another evil thing-surely a teacher needs this quality. If prevention is better than cure nowhere else, it is better than cure among children.

I have seen a class of children fidgety, full of mischief and fun, ready to rebel against any restraint. I have seen a teacher quiet and gentle go to that class, and by a few quiet words and a smiling, earnest look, put all to rights. Order was restored, work commenced, and was carried on with a zest which showed the children liked it.

I have seen a class of children orderly and industrious, scarcely needing any supervision. I have seen a teacher with a great display of enthusiasm and zeal go that class, and in two minutes upset everything. Those who were occu

pied became idle, those who were quiet became noisy.

One of these teachers had tact, the other had none. One quieted, and soothed, and settled, the other stirred up and irritated-stroked all the fur the wrong way.

Do you know Dickens' "Great Expectations"? I often think Mr. Pumblechook is a just caricature of a teacher without tact. Let me remind you of one sentence, I think in these words "He continually stroked my hair up towards the crown, and I felt in doing so he stroked my whole nature exactly in the reverse way that was natural to it."

A teacher with tact can see at once "which way the wind is blowing," and by introducing some other element, or a contrary current, will alter its course altogether. Tact stands a teacher in good stead at all times; tact in giving lessons, tact in managing general cases, tact in managing special cases—it is never superfluous. Want of