produced no effect or change whatever. The inner life of the child has not been touched by our influence. They are as completely and altogether strangers to us as though we had never looked upon their faces, or heard the voice which issued from their lips.

Now, in order that each child shall awaken some especial interest in our bosoms, it is necessary that we shall know them. How are we to sympathise with the little life, when its trials and difficulties are all unknown to us? How many of us can remember the regret we have felt at hearing of sad things which might have been prevented, "If I had only known about it." And, alas! how many lives have suffered through our lack of knowledge?

Every teacher should seek for opportunities of learning all about the things that concern their children. What are their homes like? With what influences are they surrounded? they any especial difficulties to contend with, or

Have

special temptations to withstand? There are so many things which affect a child's brightness and general intelligence. Its food, its health, its general treatment and surroundings-things it cannot control itself, and is in no way responsible for, and yet from which it suffers acutely. Get to know what these are.

But you may say, "It is impossible, there are so many children under my care. I cannot know them. I must deal with them as a mass.' Then try, at least, to get to know all who are inclined to give you trouble. If you let the ordinary well-behaved child pass, if you are compelled to take it for granted that it is well with them, try and find out about the rest. Seek to become the familiar friend of the naughtiest and the dullest. And when you know them, you will be able to deal so much more gently with them, and so much more effectively too. You know this is so. Contrast your feeling now at this moment towards some particular child under your

care whom you know well, and some other of which you know nothing. That child to you, and you to that child, are on a different and far more

natural footing than the rest.

you a wonderful sympathy.

There is between
They hear your

orders, and know your wishes; and there is awakened in them, immediately, a desire to see the one carried out and the other fulfilled. And on your part, in managing the child you cannot forget certain things connected with them which softens or shapes your dealings, and makes your management all the more powerful for good. As far as possible it is your plain duty to know your children. Set yourself to work to find out how far this is possible, and do your best with it.

Now let us notice some of the different kinds of character you will have to deal with, and perhaps, from out of the same experience of which I have spoken before, I may be able to give you a few hints.

Let us start, first of all, with what should be

a grand principle with all teachers. Every child would rather be good and obedient—would rather work than be idle-would rather win praise than blame, unless under some influence powerful enough to control its own desires or intentions. No child is determinedly bad; without training opposed to order and obedience, the chances are that a child left to itself would choose to be orderly and obey. But children are not left to themselves by any means; they are warped, and twisted, and worried and compelled often to do things which the good and noble tell them they should not do. But in spite of this, don't lose faith in them, not even in the most trying.

A gardener goes to a plant which ought to bear rare and lovely blossoms. He finds weeds round it, rank and foul, and its branches are almost matted together with the clinging of the nightshade, which grows into its very centre. Well, does he say, It is of no use to look for blossoms here; other plants of a like kind may

it;

yield them, I don't believe this one can." Certainly he does not. He is angry and sorry that it has been so neglected, but at once he sets to work to remedy the mischief. All his skill is brought to bear upon the work in hand. He stoops over he roots up and cuts away without flinching all that should be removed; he untwines the tendrils that cling, and takes down the leaves which shade. He gives the plant a chance. He knows the beauty it can display, the sweetness it can scatter; he never once thinks it will belie its nature, but in doing his best for it he feels sure it must do its best for itself.

Weeds and noxious things: unholy sights, unholy sounds, unholy deeds-we may not be able to remove them altogether, but we can clear them away from the child, and set it free in great measure, if we keep our hope and faith as to the result. Directly we feel "it is no use trying with that one," then it is no use our trying, whatever another may be able to do. When once you