after years. For the choicest possession | inherited passion. Let us try to save "But they are children only once; let them have a good time while they are young," say the fond parents, and as a result there is, for example, the school dance, not once in a while, but often, with its accompaniment of late hours and irregularity of eating, and its complete derangement of the intellectual life of the child. Yes, "they are children only once," But it Let us them, imitating the example of him who PERSONALITY OF TEACHER. HE BY J. N. PATRICK. and they have a right to the peace and teacher's manner is the real in quiet of childhood years. They have a right to be shielded as long as possible from the nervous strain of our overwrought American life. If they are not so shielded, no one need be surprised to hear that in a moment of unusual stress and excitement the will gave way because the nervous energy behind it was exhausted, and the girl stepped outside the bounds of right and honor and became a besmirched woman, that the boy broke the law of the land, and at the same time broke his father's and his mother's heart. How criminal is the negligence of the father and the mother who do not provide the right attractions at home for the children because they themselves are so deeply immersed in business or society that they have no time for the discharge of the greatest duties which ever came to any human being. No children belonging to homes of the sort about which we are talking need run the streets after dark, if the right spirit is in the father or mother. As I close, I come back to the point from which I started. There are many children lost, wandering in the mazes of the world's temptations and sins, gone astray, many of them through ignorance of the world's ways, or the strength of fluence in the school; his personality is the real teacher. Pupils may laugh at a teacher's opinions, but they can not resist his personal power. If he is not in earnest, the pupils will not be zealous; if he is not enthusiastic, he cannot secure and retain the attention of his pupils; he must speak and act in such a manner that the pupils cannot disregard his teaching. Teaching school requires the whole of the largest men and women. Satisfactory results can be secured only in the degree that the teacher throws his whole life into his work. It is through the contagion of his own personal enthusiasm that interest is awakened on the part of the pupils. "A working teacher will always have working pupils; and this the more, if they are not overwhelmed with text-books rendered wholly unmanageable for them by sheer excess of details." The following beautiful description of the power and of the value of enthusiasm on the part of the teacher is from "How to Secure Attention," by Sidgwick, the great Sunday-school teacher of London, England: "Whether it be school lesson or subject of common talk out of school, the enthusiast drags the boy's mind captive. He makes him attend, he makes him interested, he makes him think. Without trying to do so, he makes learn when it is in charge of an educated, courageous teacher. A teacher can do his duty to his pupils only when he feels that he was chosen, not on account of his politics, his religion, or his relationship to the school board, but on account of his qualifications. AMONG THE BIRDS. HARLAN F. HALL. ing seem attractive and delightful. Boys | The school attracts and educates only are naturally impressionable, and enthusiasm impresses; they are naturally imitative, and whatever they see a man keen about, they at once begin to excite themselves about it. Whether it be poetry, history, politics, art, science, natural history, or archaeology, the enthusiast will at once make a school of his own imitators about him. And he will do far more than this. He will lift boy after boy out of the barbarous intellectual atmosphere in which the natural boy lives and moves, and make him conscious -though it be only dimly consciousof the vast world of interest which lies around in every direction, waiting till he gird up his mental loins and come and explore. This is the real result of a master's enthuiasm-it cultivates. Under plodding, hum-drum teachers who will not put soul into their work, a boy may pass through a school from bottom to top, doing all the work so as to pass muster, and be a savage at the end. But let the enthusiast catch him, though but for a term, and the savage is converted." The personality of the teacher is the persuasive element to which all else is subservient and secondary. Personal influence is greater than authority; it is the teacher's character, not his learning, that inspires and governs. Some men are leaders, not because of what they know, but because of what they are. History clearly shows that the essential factor in human development is the leadership of great men. The power that moves others is personal, not abstract. Everywhere men have always been loyal to leaders rather than to systems and methods. The greatest power in the world is a living personality. We all know the magnetic influence of a strong personality. "A man teaching is worth more to a class of pupils than all theories, methods, and devices." Teaching is a spiritual process; the formal recitation is only the visible machinery through which the spiritual is awakened and strengthened. The essence of a good school is in the teacher. It is not in the course of study, nor in the fine school-house, nor in the large library; it is in the teacher, in his method, in his personal adaptation to the work of instruction, in his enthusiasm, in his ideals, in his personal worth. A school is the centre of power only when it is in charge of a competent teacher. A' RMED with glass, gun and lunch, I started for the country. The dark bank in the east was slowly sinking below the horizon. Overhead the sunbeams were busily engaged in driving away the few sprays of whiteness that remained. A three mile walk across pastures, cornfields and meadows led me to a large tract of woods-a real woods of mingled trees and shrubs that even in Ohio has been spared. There are poplars and red oaks fit castles for a 'coon's den; a ridge of hills just suited to the 'possum's ramble; hickories for the squirrel; beeches for the chipmunk and an occasional chestnut along the border inviting some one to come and club its branches. Every tree was clothed in its richest garb of autumn coloring and seemed literally to be calling out for admiration. What an ideal place for birds! Here are openings large enough for sunlight. to enter and carpet the earth with grass. Just below is a ravine almost silent with its burden of fallen leaves. Yonder is a shaded network of briar and bush forbidding all footsteps of man or beast. Every thing so reticent-beauty everywhere. "Tongues in the trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." This is the place where nature conceals her secrets. Jay birds are circling among the trees. They have already varied their tone of voice to inform the remaining wood-folk that there is a stranger in their haunt. Such impudence! It might be tolerated in a bird of decent reputation and modest manner, but Mr. Blue Jay is a member of the 400, and is not injured in the least by our opinion of him. He holds first rank in an order known as the Wood Folks' Secret Service Department. I had anticipated a meeting with him while visiting in his neighborhood, and therefore had prepared a little ruse to set him thinking. Now that his churlishness is | through every nerve. All eyes are cenalready operating against me I shall proceed at once to repay him. Yonder is a dog-wood tree whose branches are pendant with their burden of ripe berries. This will be an attractive center for several varieties of birds, and any disturbance among them will attract the attention of the entire neighborhood. See even now, in the dog-wood almost every leaf is fanned by the robins' wings in their hurried effort to procure a morsel and dart away with it to some elevated perch where they may look for lurking danger while they eat it. How nervous and watchful they are. They know the enemies of the deep forest and miss the safety that used to surround them in the old cherry tree in the open of the orchard. Here is just the place to plan a trick on Mr. Blue Jay. There is the brier tangle. It will afford a covert from which to view him. Now for the old tin box which has been the transporting prison of so many animals, insects, plants, and-lunches. Within it are the strange forms that shall soon perch amid the uppermost branches of the dog wood-a stuffed owl, hawk, blue jay, tanager, grackle, and crow. Will this be a mystery? Will they be baffled by the ghostly stare from these mute and silent kindred of the forest? To place them all within the tree would certainly daze the strongest mind in birdland, so just to set them thinking, I shall present only the owl and the blue jay. Every bird student knows the antipathy that exists between this couple of marauders, the one a thief by night, the other a thief by day. With the aid of a string this curious pair were soon drawn to a central limb and in a few moments they were securely perched, staring at each other across three feet of open, fit specimens to deceive a gunner a few steps away. Descending the tree, I scarcely had time to conceal myself in the bramble before the hungry robins had quieted their chirping. Their friendliness, as in the old cherry tree at home, was with them here, and from every tree they floated down to secure another of the bright red berries. For an instant the glowing food caught every eye. A mouthful taken, they look and scan the field for danger, when lo! in their very midst stands a demon of the forest. Not another berry is seen. A suppressed emotion runs tered upon the great fluffy form that stares at them with soulless face. Now they are speechless-almost motionless. With heads erect, they look and peer and wonder. What surprises me most is their silence. Why, shadows could be as noisy. Shall I quietly announce my presence and break that spell of fright by letting them see their door-yard friend beside them? No. It is seldom that we see a wild thing unconscious, and in such a freighted moment we must catch whole volumes of its history. Presently the suspense is lessened. The distant ones begin to venture a low chirp, and then in turn each expressed a quiet judgmeut on the scene. I have read somewhere that even robins when happening upon an owl would group themselves about him and enjoy a real jubilee of fun by their teasing and tormenting. What a different picture here. Are youth and lack of experience their weakness? By their plumage one would guess them to be the growth of half a summer, and by their manner every one a novice in such surroundings. A moment later and this opinion is confirmed when from a near-by limb there drops the darkened form of another-a spectator to the scene, but one of age and experience. A glance revealed the situation, and the bird with unusual cawing and fluttering of wings (the like of which I had never seen before in a robin) circled twice entirely round the tree just outside its branches, then with a dart lost itself from view in the forest. from view in the forest. The problem is solved. The warning is given. How quickly the scene changes. One by one, the robins, six in number, slipped from among the fruit-laden branches, without even grabbing a good-bye morsel to add to their unfinished breakfast, and in less than three minutes the tree was as silent as the dead forms that perched within it, nor did a single robin return in two hours of patient waiting. Such an experiment by itself may have little if any value in it. It must be associated with another of a similar character. It was last summer. A cherry tree a full half-mile from any house and near an open woodland was glowing with its ripened fruit. A mounted hawk was placed upon its topmost twig. Observation disclosed the fact that the robins were utterly forgetful of the presence of such a bird. By close scrutiny they might discern that their foe (?) was lifeless, but their very first appearance in the tree was as composed as though no dangerous guest was near them. Knowing the food of a hawk, should those robins not have been suspicious of its presence in their cherry tree? Does the clumsy owl, carnivorous as a hawk, nocturnal in its habits, bring fear and trembling to a robin, while the fierce and merciless hawk is treated without even passing notice? Now about the blue jays. The flurry about the robins has attracted their attention, and as a matter of course, it is their legitimate business to go at once and investigate the matter. But three of them are present in the haunt. From the distance they have discerned that the trouble centered in the dog-wood tree. Mr. and Mrs. Blue Jay at once decided that this is an opportunity to send their inquisitive youngster in pursuit. He is now almost of age and this will add one more lesson to his apprenticeship while under their care. To report the matter correctly he must, like a boy at a fire, be as near as possible to the scene of interest. The plan is laid and off he goes, threading his way through tangled branches, often walking a limb to an open place lest his wing should strike against a leaf and make a noise. In a moment he has arrived a real patch of blue in a background of red upon the outer edge of the tree. There a strange sight meets his eye. He, like the robins, is hushed. He peaks his head, nods this way and that, and stretches his neck so that I almost doubt its composition. Seeing the mass of feathers staring at him from the limb, his heart would fail him but for the presence of his brother who sits in the most open and dangerous place. With this renewal of courage he now proceeds upon an inspection tour, using the outermost limbs for a pathway round the tree. Fully three minutes are consumed in this circuit and not a chirp is uttered. He looks and studies. the quiet that perplexes him. He knows the fighting gesture of the quivering wing and bowing body. But all is grewsome silence. A little distance away sit his parents with bated breath to hear the signal that his investigation will bring forth. How methodic and careful he is, and yet his knowledge is too narrow to report upon a case like this. He recalls It is the stories that had been told to him of blue jays congregating about a large and half-blind bird of the forest and with screams and persecutions compelling him to seek refuge in the hollow of a tree. But how different to see his brother, alone and silent, within the very pall of danger. A moment longer and his decision is reached. His pride is not injured in the least by signalling his parents to come, because they had taught him that when conditions were new and danger seemed immanent, investigation was always safer when conducted by numbers. Whereupon he gives the signal to Almost instantly it is answered. Buoyed up now at the thought of his parents coming, he begins to venture slightly nearer, and like a boy who whistles in the dark for company, he does not forget to continue his call to come. come. The In a few moments a trio of jays are gliding from limb to limb among the branches of the tree. How suddenly the situation changes. Fear is no longer a characteristic of their behavior. piercing cry is lowered into a tone as changeable as that of an angered crow. Every expression is one of vehemence. They would light within two feet of the owl and with nods and shrieks berate him with an animation that would do justice to a flock of wrens when warring with a sparrow. Finally their scolding They hop from limb to limb about the tree as if to gain composure and think upon their actions. They are out-done. Their overflow of anger has availed them nothing. Those owly eyes gave never a wink, nor the wings a flutter, nor the body a challenging nod. But the silent blue jay remains a mystery to them all. To see him there, serene and calm, amid a fray like this, was never known in all the records of his race. I hear them murmur with mixed sorrow and disgust "We'll move away and call and call to him in tender tones to come" and soon from maple boughs and oaks there floated out the mellowed, plaintive "come ", but the sky colored form beneath them is mute and motion less forever. signal code is known by every wild thing | stopped I shied around and fired at the of the forest, and though he be dubbed "dishonest, cruel, inquisitive, murderous, voracious and villainous," we must be charitable and measure out his value with his faults. He notes your coming as quickly as a crow, and with wings as silent as a sunbeam, he slips athwart your pathway and proclaims your presence with a shriek so loud that bird and animal alike are awakened from their slumber.-Ohio Teacher. ELEPHANT TIGER HUNT. MR. H. S. WYLIE, who spent a num ber of years in India, where he was superintendent of a tea plantation, and who, in a recent issue of the Sunday News, gave a graphic account of a tiger fight which he witnessed from a treetop, furnishes a sequel to that adventure in the following story, in which he tells how the survivor of the deadly combat was captured: "After the dead tiger had been brought to the bungalow," says Mr. Wylie, "I sent for Azim and Sundamolly. Azim was our chicaree mahout. What they didn't know about chica (sport) was not worth knowing. And Sundamolly? She was the garden elephant. I never heard of her facing a tiger before that day, and had no idea of how she would behave. "I had killed lots of deer and pig from her back, and she was steady and very well trained, but as to what she would do with a tiger-well, I soon found out. "We got the guddee (riding pad) on the elephant, and I loaded up the 'baby' - my double-barreled, ten-bore rifle (muzzle-loader), stuck a Snider rifle under the guddee ropes, and off we went to the scene of the morning's set-to. "We beat up that grass patch pretty well, but couid see nothing of the victorious tiger nor the tigress he joined after the battle. The long grass about the spot where the combatants fought was torn to ribbons, and in many places the hard earth had long tears in it. I had about given up all hopes of getting a shot at the tiger when, looking over my shoulder as I sood on the guddee, I caught a glimpse of a glossy skin crossing the track we had just left behind us. I gave Azim the signal (a kick in the ribs), and as soon as the elephant spot I supposed the tiger would have reached. Not two seconds afterward, and before Sundamolly had time to move, Mr. Stripes, with a howl, sprang out of the grass and lit on the elephant's flank, one paw fairly on the guddee, the end of which the infuriated tiger seized in his jaws. "I barely had time to drop on my knees and grasp the guddee ropes when Sundamolly showed decided objections to the eight claws sticking into her. Throwing up her trunk, the elephant began trumpeting and swaying from side to side in an endeavor to shake the brute off her back. "I don't know how 'Stripes' found it, but it was all that I could do to hold on. Were you ever in a small boat on a rough sea? The pitching and tossing there are nothing to an elephant's sway. ing. I thought the guddee ropes would break, and it seemed as though my arms would be torn out of their sockets, and besides there was that brute clinging on like grim death, breathing like an alligator, and his jaws not twelve inches from my hand. "I don't know how long this condition of affairs lasted; not long, I suppose, but it seemed like a lifetime to me. Finally Stripes' could bear it no longer, and he fell over backward, his claws making great rips in the elephant's hide as he went down. Then, without warning, Sundamolly swerved around, and you wouldn't believe how fast she did it, and before the tiger could make a move she had him pinned to the ground with her foot on his belly. For a moment she was quite still. It gave me time to collect myself, and see what was going on. "The tiger threw up her foreleg and clawed the elephant in the chest. With a terrific roar Sundamolly let her weight down on the infuriated beast, and I could hear his ribs crack. He was a goner then, but little the elephant cared for that. She rolled the tiger over and over backward and forward under her forefeet for a time, and then she pushed him toward her hind leg. After placing the animal in a convenient position, she swung her leg backward and foreward like a pendulum to get up a momentum, and then let him have it full force in the center of his body. The tiger flew through the air as one would send a football, notwithstanding the fact that |