ing adequate labor and supplying transportation. Forests and brush have to be cleared away, great drainage ditches dug, and houses, railways, and tramways constructed. Only then does the actual planting begin.

The overseer or "mandador" of a banana plantation has to combine an assortment of executive qualities that would make an ordinary executive stagger under the load. He must understand the naïve simplicity of the laborers under his command, and must organize them into competent working units. He must understand the botany of the banana and the moods of the tropical soil and weather, and must know how to rush large shipments of the fruit, perhaps over many miles of rail, to a ship at a given time. He must understand housing, merchandising, sanitation, and medical requirements.

THE NEW SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE The banana trade has developed a new soldier of fortune, for this business requires courage and wits and stamina of a hardy quality and large dimensions. From the financiers at their desks in Boston and from the mariner on the bridge, down to ditch-diggers and docklaborers, the tropical fruit industry has no room in it for weaklings.

Between planting and harvest a banana plantation is subjected to all manner of hazards. Excessive rains may cause rivers to overflow, and may cause great losses. A hurricane may cause a total loss of the crop. Even wind storms blowing only twenty to thirty miles per hour often prove highly destructive, especially where the fruit is about ready to be cut. A drought may seriously retard the crop. Ravages of locusts and other insects sometimes occur.

The fruit trees of the north bear fruit year after year, but the banana tree bears only once, a single bunch, and is cut down when the fruit is harvested. Seed bulbs, or "bits," weighing from three to four pounds each, are planted, and it takes the tree from twelve to fifteen months to bear.

THE GENIUS OF THE BANANA TRADE

Great commercial demands invariably produce the genius required to fill them. And the world's demand for bananas produced the leader of the banana trade in Andrew W. Preston. He supplied both the penetrating insight into the

need and the skill and resourcefulness required to fill that need.

Back in the days when an occasional schooner limped into Boston with a cargo of bananas, it occurred to Mr. Preston to organize banana-growing and the banana trade on first-class modern lines. He broached the subject to various business men, but the latter, raised in the sheltered environment of their ancestral New England factories, preferred to stick to manufacture and to known factors of supply and demand. What? Chuck their money into growing bananas, and then import them 1,400 to 2,200 miles to Boston? No. It didn't sound businesslike.

But nine men were finally persuaded to join Mr. Preston. They put up $2,000 each, and a company was incorporated. Outsiders considered the venture about the biggest gamble this side of Monte Carlo. Perhaps that is why Mr. Preston's nine partners literally remained silent partners. They were shrewd enough, however, to agree that for five years the profits, if any, should be spent in development work.

That was the beginning of the bridge of bananas that to-day connects the tropics with every grocery store in the world.

HEALING BY WIRELESS

A few weeks ago the newspapers carried a remarkable despatch. It described a new system of medical service and consultation by radio for ships at sea, free to the ships of all nations, and primarily designed to assist vessels not carrying medical officers. It is another of Mr. Preston's ideas.

"This means," said Mr. Preston, "that the captain of any steamship requiring medical assistance may radio one of our hospitals or passenger ships through our radio stations, details of a c

ness or accident on his vessel, and receive without charge, so far as we are concerned, experienced medical advice. While the service is mainly for ships not carrying doctors, it is also at the disposal of vessels whose medical officers desire the benefit of consultation with other physicians. For instance, in the case of an obscure malady, or one where the patient's symptoms may indicate any of a number of complications, a ship's doctor may call our hospital staffs and medical men into consultation by radio, thus adding their knowledge and experience to his own as in medical practice on land."

WINTRY GALES IN HOLDS OF
TROPICAL SHIPS

After the banana's journey to the loading dock, and thence into the hold of the ship, a still stranger drama of modern science enacts itself. Throughout the ship's dash through tropical waters for its northern port, the temperature in the holds is kept at about 54 degrees. The fruit is cooled to the required tempearture by refrigerating apparatus. The air is passed over brine-coils, which cool and dry it, and it is then circulated by fans through the fruit holds.

The same careful inspection and rigid temperature requirements attend the fruit on its journey by rail to the final point of distribution; and the ripening occurs only in the banana rooms of the jobber. Ripening consists of vital changes that take place within the cells of the fruit, which is at length placed on the market as a matured product at its highest intrinsic value, having developed the correct color, firmness, flavor, and the highest degree of food value.

FROM THE WORKSHOP OF THE GODS

The banana is apparently as old as tropical fertility itself. The ancients of Egypt and Assyria had their bananas and cream, separately even if not in the same dish. Alexander the Great found large banana tracts in India, and must have consumed the fruit thereof with the same relish confessed in later years by Prime Minister Disraeli, who said:

"The most delicious thing in the world is a banana."

For centuries the banana has engaged the ingenuity of cooks and chefs, and yet the public generally is just awakening to the value of the banana as a daily food. Its use in cakes, fritters, custards, salads, and in the festive banana-split at soda fountains, is, of course, common. But many people are surprised to learn that a banana can be baked, fried, and cooked in numerous other ways.

It comes to the culinary stage ready to play a dual rôle. It is both a fruit and a vegetable. Down near the equator the natives cut it up green and eat it in soup. It is roasted green and fried green in butter. I have even seen banana flour at the grocery store.

The best time to eat a banana is when

the ripening process has advanced to the point where its skin begins to darken and to become slightly discolored, for then its pulp is mellow, its flavor and sweetness are at their best, and it is most easily digested. If a banana is a little under-ripe, don't put it in the icechest. Let it ripen at a normal temperature; too low a temperature damages the fine flavor that comes with normal ripening.

If you ever feel any suspicion of bananas because they are cut green, dismiss it. The banana is always cut green, even when consumed by natives in the tropics, for if it is allowed to ripen on the plant it becomes insipid in flavor.

IN A GERM-PROOF PACKAGE Almost as much fuss is made in foodproduct manufacturing circles these days about containers and packages as about the goods themselves. The invention of an appropriate patent container has made many a man a tidy fortune. But the pulp of the banana comes to you in a carefully developed container, invented by the lady known as Mother Nature. It is a germ-proof package, hermetically sealed. No worm, blight, or insect sting affects the fruit within.

Are you concerned with calories, vitamines, and such-like scientific novelties?

Then behold in the banana a food brimful of nourishment. It contains three times the protein of the apple, nearly twice as much carbohydrate and three times as much fat as the orange, and exceeds the potato by about twenty per cent in fuel or food value.

Professor Samuel C. Prescott, of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, finds that the banana provides more actual food for the same cost than any other fresh fruit, vegetable, or fish, and more than meat, milk, or eggs. He reports that the banana is a far more useful all-round food than a pure meat diet. Ripe bananas, with their powerful tissue-building character, are especially recommended for growing children.

During the past ten years Mr. Preston and his associates have grown and shipped 284,000,000 bunches of bananas from the tropics, of which 230,000,000 bunches were served on the tables of the United States. But the continuous flood of this green gold product of the tropics to the tables of the world is much more than an ambitious venture in agriculture and distribution. It has changed ancient civilizations, and has bound together North America, Central America, South America, and the West Indies in a lasting knot that has proved profitable to them all.

We have asked Senator Davenport, who is in the Middle West, to send us some letters of special correspondence from that section of the country, interesting at all times, but especially interesting in a year when politics is in motion. The

A

N editor sitting at a desk in the East knows about as much of what the country is thinking as a Congressman sitting in a swivel chair in the House building in Washington. Both rational political changes and irrational political convulsions are more apt to come out of the West than out of any other part of America. This section is full of political laboratories, has always been full of them. So has the Far West. This is the great experimental ground of political America, and it is altogether a good thing, I think, to have new schemes, progressive, reactionary, or radical, tried out in a small area while the country looks on.

During this summer the Middle West has been acting up again politically. First came Beveridge with a triumph over the sitting Senator New in Indiana. There were many of a very regular persuasion who hoped this would not happen again; but it did. Pinchot crossed the line in Pennsylvania. And ever since the crashes have come at intervals. Other new types of United States Senators have arisen over night. Brookhart in Iowa, with a far-reaching programme of economic reform; Frazier, of North Dakota, the Non-partisan Leaguer, only recently catapulted from the Governorship by process of the recall; another Roosevelt leader, Howell, of Nebraska; and last but not least, the erratic and invincible La Follette, of Wisconsin, who is by a great majority restored to his pristine political glory.

And all of them Republicans, coming through in the primaries of their own party. The Democratic party for the time being seems to have lost vitality, is simply marking time, waiting for something to turn up. But the Republican electorate in the Middle West is again on the rampage, looking for change or bound to know the reason why. It is likely to be the shifting of large bodies of quasi-Republicans to the other side which will make the party changes in the House and Senate and in the Governorships, if changes there be.

What is it all about? What has the Middle West in the back of its head? Why is Main Street stirred out of itself? Has it any distinct, conscious urge, or is it all an inchoate protest? I try simply to interpret things as I find them. I may agree with them, I may not, but I record.

through without shipwreck. But many persons in the Middle West are begin ning to think that the captain must be much more particular about his pilots, at least in domestic waters. The tariff, the bonus, the strikes-she rolls in the trough of the sea. It is time now for genuine friends of both the Administration and the country to determine, if they can, what public opinion of America is trying to say, because public opinion in America has more force and guidance in it than public opinion in any other land. Many persons in the Middle West think that the greatest single criticism which can be made upon the present leadership of Washington is that it has not aroused and inspired the general public opinion of the country. They think it has not informed public opinion, nurtured it, and listened to it sufficiently.

I begin with Indiana. Indiana has a fringe of radicalism, a fringe of stolid reaction, but is in the main progressive. It is usually ready to move forward. There is a reason for the return of Beveridge. The truth of it seems to be that Beveridge fits into the present state of mind of Indiana. The people in that State have been figuring up their taxes. These aggregate sixty dollars a person, three hundred and sixty dollars to the family, as compared with something like four hundred and fifty dollars a family in Massachusetts and more than five hundred dollars in New York. The economic times have been out of joint for farmers and laborers. Something is felt to be wrong. Beveridge fits into the state of protest, as La Follette fits into it in Wisconsin and Pinchot in Pennsylvania.

Another factor favoring Beveridge is his constructive writing of the monumental work upon John Marshall. This may be a curious and amusing phenomenon in politics, but it is reassuring. In Indiana the Negro committeeman in the farthest town seems to know about this magnum opus of Beveridge, at least to the extent of believing that something terrible has happened! But the thoughtful people are proud of it-particularly in Indiana, where a piece of work of genuine literary merit counts for so much. This is a good sign, isn't it, that people should generally appreciate constructive work on the part of public servants? There is a returning pride in the ability of Beveridge in Indiana, and a belief that a mind like his will be useful in Washington where the supply of thinkers is certainly nothing like as

The Administration at Washington is regarded out here as in the trough of the sea, where it must be conceded other Administrations have been when halfway over their course. It may come great as the demand.

And then Beveridge has his roots in the past in the State. He has been previously known as a great antagonist of child labor on the floor of the Senate of the United States and a protagonist of pure food laws and the regulation of packers. He fought his campaign in the recent primaries on very different issues which seem amazingly conservative— attacking the Adamson Law of 1916, with its kotowing to labor, attacking the excess profits tax and the high income taxes as economically unsound, because there is little left, as he asserted, for investment in general industry, and, consequently, a return to "good times" is delayed. He attacked all kinds of blocsfarmers' blocs, capitalistic blocs, whisky blocs, prohibition blocs, anything that looked like a bloc. The progressive people of Indiana do not understand that this indicates any fundamental change in the philosophy of Beveridge since he wrote the Life of John Marshall and studied closely the great Federal conservatives of the post-revolutionary period. In his attitude toward labor, for example, they think that he is driving at the control of government by labor blocs and labor intimidations and unreasonable practices, just as earlier he drove at the reprehensible practices of capital blocs.

He is likely to be elected. It is not a cinch, but a probability. Republicans carried the State by 180,000 two years ago, I believe. There will be a terrible falling off. What beat New for Senator was the unrest. Beveridge will profit by it, and unrest will vote for him at the election just as it did at the primary, and there will be no organized opposition to him on the part of the regulars. There is belief that New is proving a bad loser, but that the regulars generally wish Beveridge elected and expect to help. The progressive element, led now by men like Edward C. Toner, the owner of the Anderson "Herald," are for Beveridge because his career has been sound from their standpoint. Toner was a candidate for Governor a short time ago and is a leading figure. The Beveridge forces seem to be taking nothing for granted, are looking for a big slump in the majority, but expect to see Beveridge the high man on the ticket and the rest of the ticket victorious with him by a moderate margin. If New had been nominated in the Senatorial primary, the whole ticket would probably have been beaten. It is to be hoped that the Republican regulars appreciate what an infusion of life into the politics of various States has come this year from

recrudescence of the leadership of Roosevelt progressives. Without it, the Republican cause would seem hopeless in a number of important States. The return of Beveridge was at first an awful blow to the regulars of Indiana, but they have reason for bearing up under it.

Colorado and Michigan are two other States where the Republicans might welcome an infusion of the same sort of blood. Both these States seem to hang doubtfully for the Republicans. In Michigan Senator Townsend has made a gallant fight and has been favored by a number of his opponents in the primary who split a majority vote between them. But Townsend is a minority candidate, with stiff uphill work before him over the Newberry issue. The Middle West is against large expenditures of money at elections. The Middle West thinks that large expenditures are both unnecessary and dangerous. This may be Main Street morality, and it may make far more difficult some critical contests for the right which demand greater expenditures than Main Street is willing to stand for; but it is a phenomenon that is.to be reckoned with in all parts of the country. In Colorado the Republicans are facing the general country-wide reaction, and something else. "Billy" Sweet, wealthy ex-bond broker and radi

cal thinker, is running on the Democratic ticket for the Governorship. He was very critical of the street railway strike in the city of Denver two years ago, and was instrumental in having published a report of outside investigators upon the strike which bore heavily upon the good sense and good faith of the railway operators and managers. He represents quite exactly the political freedom of the West as it has manifested itself so frequently in a State like Colorado. He is also helped by the strong feeling on the part of the labor element in that State against what labor regards as the unconstitutional treatment of one William Z. Foster during the recent hectic strike crisis. Colorado authority has always been rough with labor radicals, and the riot and the bull-pen have been in that State confused with synonyms of progress. Foster seems to have been cornered in a hotel room in Denver and marked for deportation. When the prospective deportee inquired for authority under the law to be thus summarily dealt with, the strong arm representative of State authority is alleged to have replied that he hadn't looked for any law, meanwhile gently patting his gun in his hip pocket. Whereupon William Z. was spirited away into another State and left five miles from a town, with instruc

tions to hobble in, following specific declarations as to what would happen to him if he should return to Colorado.

Speaking of free speech and free coming and going, this is perhaps as good a place as any to say that the Middle West is restive under the meticulous phraseology of oppression in the Daugherty injunction against the railway strikers. It seems to be the overdoing of a good thing that makes more trouble for progress than anything else. The Middle West is not as critical of the use of the injunction for labor disputes as Mr. Gompers, by any means; it is not that there is any great amount of love lost on railway labor; it is that it seems monstrous to the Middle West to deny by court injunction rights of the freespeech of entreaty, one man to another, rights of social assemblage, one man at another's home, for the purpose of entreaty. The Middle West seems to think that the Daugherty-Wilkerson injunction went even farther than Congress itself would have the right to go. The Middle West seems to fear that some day in America, if we are not careful, a radical class may come to power that will have been taught by previous un-American example how to treat their foes. At that, the Middle West is a long way from a farmer-labor entente.

I'd like to write a history of the contempt for teachers. You would see the slave called "paidagogus" whipped like the others when his master pleased; the same name in the Middle Ages shortened to "pedant" and retaining the saturation of scorn it has brought down the centuries. You would see Shakespeare and Shenstone and Goldsmith molding their contumely into verse; Scott and Dickens and the early novelists plying their muck-rakes to collect the ugly, despicable, mean ingredients of mankind and molding the mess into the creature called schoolmaster. You would see our own first literary genius, when searching for a vessel to contain, without suggesting the improbable, a mixture of cowardice, selfishness, pettiness, and conceit, select a receptacle, call it teacher, and name it Ichabod Crane.

I remember a teachers' convention in Elgin in 1887. Will Ray, a cheerful memory, was our principal. There was a group of us who felt that our clothes and personalities were rather like those of young business men and nice girls. he one proposed a trip through the h factory. We abandoned the eduonal meeting for this more interest

BY WILLIAM MCANDREW

ing adventure. Every girl and every man took off his little association ribbon and hid it safely away. Thirty-five years later, 1922, I attended a National Education meeting in Boston. I saw hundreds of nice girls and attractivelooking men, fully as stylish as any of our old Chicago party which went to Elgin, but they were wearing their association badges everywhere. I used to fold over my "Journal of Education" when reading it in the street car for fear some one would know I was in the business. It doesn't bother me a bit, now. When any ill-bred, new acquaint ance asks, "What's your line?" I don't say "Books" any more, nor "Tanner," but "Teaching," without blinking an eye. That is not because I dislike dropping down in one's estimation any less than of old. It is because my business ranks higher in the world's eye than it did. We had an art exhibition here in 1898. We wanted all the children of our school to see it. They must be convoyed two blocks. Out of twenty-eight schoolteachers two were plainly willing to take their children over. The others hated to be seen with classes on the street. Last fall, New York presented in a central armory an exposition called "America's Making." Opportunity was given the schools to visit it. So many teachers asked for tickets for their children that the management could only cut the privilege down to a fraction of the de

mand. For fifteen days, mornings, afternoons, and Saturdays, sixty-two thousand children came in street cars and on foot, each twenty-five accompanied by a teacher, naturally, willingly, apparently with enthusiasm.

It seems only yesterday that a woman suffrage parade marched up Fifth Avenue. There were detachments of women lawyers, interesting; actresses, not so good to look at without footlights; business women, well worth while; nurses, fine. Then a multitude of women teachers, all in white, heads up, step firm and rhythmic (they had drilled themselves on armory floors all over town), faces intelligent, reliable, unafraid, and as of those who give and get affection. There had been approving clapping of hands as other detachments passed, but as this army of gentlewomen swung up the Avenue, the masses on the curbs instinctively, spontaneously, irresistibly. paid a tribute that grew to a roar of approval. You realized that the crowds welcomed these as their own, a fine piece of America itself, as distinctly as any body of military troops ever is. You felt that the man of the crowd was saluting the memory of his own favorite teacher of Litchfield or Johnstown or Carpenter's Corners. Even the reporters, case-hardened against enthusiasm. glorified this section of the parade to the limit.

We have arrived. Our comic-valentine

days are past. We have cur Edward Eggleston, D'Arcy Thompson, Elbert Hubbard, and Otis Poole. Even when we were boys, a popular drama, "M'liss," gave the leading man's part to a clean, virile, lovable fellow, a schoolmaster.

It is suicidal stupidity to look down on teachers. The eminent spirits who conceived the Republic-Washington, Franklin, Adams, Madison, Monroe, Jefferson -made clear expressions of conviction that the Nation must be preserved by schools adopted as an integral part of governmental service. The great historic law enacted even before the Constitution, that "Ordinance of 1787," gave legal authority to the idea. De Witt Clinton got it into New York's Constitution as "an essential" of government. Lincoln called our public education "the most important question we as a people can be concerned with." To carry over from a muddy-brained past the fashion of ridiculing the teacher and to continue it in a new government which had specifically selected the teacher's work as that which should, in Washington's phrase, be "promoted as of primary importance," was as blind as the corn-law legislation of those witless landowners who ruined themselves and starved their country in an effort to keep matters as they were. We have a thousand towns in which school boards have discovered that to try to own the teacher and to legislate the distance between the ground and the hem of her skirt, or the question of her dancing, is only to exclude bright, cheerful, wholesome girls and to keep in a constant state of resentment towards its unnecessary and foolish restrictions the ones whom necessity drives into teaching. We have a hundred towns in which maidenhood is no longer made a stigma by an artificia! ban on a woman teacher's marriage. We have cities in which the consideration of employment is not a question of charity, engaging those who most need the money, but a matter of efficiency, securing those who do the service best.

A teacher has no need to "keep it dark" in 1922. In fact one may feel pretty sure that "keeping it dark" is now an invitation to contempt. The late Walter Hines Page, whose inclinations kept him intimately acquainted with school people, while his work as editor and publisher threw him with a wide variety of other folk, remarked ten years back that the general public now regards teachers more highly than teachers do.

To keep one's identity dark may mean that the keeper is ashamed of it. To try to do a big work while being ashamed of it is, of course, psychologically and physiologically absurd-like tying weights on one's feet before climbing, dirtying one's food before cating it. To be ashamed of one's own work is to rob one's self of a natural birthright of happiness. Other men don't do that. Watson comes breezing in with the most wonderful life-insurance policy ever conceived. It's a beauty. Wilson is selling a car that's simply a dream. Wrightson

has a list of houses to offer that will make your life a heaven on earth. Any man who is worth his salt is enthusiastic about his business, no matter what it is. He may be all for the Spintz motor to-day; but if the Sputz Company hires him, there's no machine on earth can compare with theirs.

Goodness me! Why should anybody poison his own delight with a mental treatment that has been repudiated by progressives for years and years? Mother says, "Don't cry, dear," not "Do cry."

Children learn to praise their toys and be happy; boys learn to brag about their fathers; sweethearts tell each other each is the most wonderful being ever released from paradise to gladden the world. The language has no word contemptible enough to apply to the wife or husband who doesn't call her spouse the finest example of the blue-ribbon class. Why not? What's my business is so large a fraction of my life, now, that I must either put into it the zest of happiness or I must go into such available business as will permit of such zest. But even while I am looking and hoping for such business I must so regard my present calling as to make it yield me that satisfaction and joy which sane men know is the natural accompaniment of any worth-while work well done. Unhappiness in work is a sort of laziness. Gounod had it until he found out that, if he made up his mind regarding any distasteful task and determined to see how well he could do it, the drudgery became interesting and enjoyable. Pittacus, of the Greek sages, had the answer to it, for he told his disciples that "the greatest good is to do what you are doing at the moment well." The Preacher had it, too, when he said, "Whatsoever thy hand findest to do"not do it half-heartedly, as if you be lieved you were going to be married some day, but-"do it with thy might." And Solomon had it when he said, "Seest thou a man diligent in his busi ness? He shall stand before kings." Come, you Latin teacher, what is "diligent"? Diligo, diligere, to love ardently. Seest thou a man that loves his business with a glowing passion? What is the delight of kings compared with his? He stands before them. This is my birthright. My heart is mine. Gounod, Thales, Solomon, and Ecclesiastes have no monopoly. I command me, "This is thy business, love it;" and whether it be piling stone or making mousetraps, it gives me my enjoyment due. I shall wrestle with it as Jacob with the angel until it blesses me. I have no need to be ashamed of a business inherently so important, interesting, and varied, that is stamped with the highest approval of eminent men from Washington to Harding and is adopted as a function of the Government itself.

Perhaps the tendency to "keep it dark" is due to a recollection of unlovely personalities bearing the name of teachers and a wish to avoid being thought

like them. When I recall some of the long-faced, harsh-voiced, dowdily gowned women of old school days, or ungainly, ill-mannered men the powers-that-were used to permit to vitiate the company of children, I can't help commending as praiseworthy any attempt to keep from being thought like them. But, bless me! where can you find that type predominating? San Antonio teachers assembled look like Texas élite; Geneseo teachers need not strain any efforts to supply a beauty show; Sacramento teachers, constituted as a welcome committee, are deemed by the municipal authorities proper representatives of that beautiful city. Our own men and women, here in the metropolis, as you survey them at the evening school banquet, or the dinner to Charl O. Williams, or on any of the occasions that bring them together, look like people you would regard as good company anywhere.

Oh, pshaw! no one is justified in keeping his teachership dark on the ground of not wanting to be set down as of a calling of which the majority is despicable. Almost all of us have been lifted by teaching so much above the grade we should otherwise now be in that we would be justified in carrying with us a spotlight to throw upon ourselves, as who should say, "See me? I'm a teacher. Say, where would I be if I weren't?"

"There are a number of teachers on board, but they are keeping it dark." What were the other people doing? Were the lawyers on board proclaiming their business? Were the women shouting, "I'm a housekeeper," "I'm an accompanist," "I'm a secretary to a railroad president"? In fact, when you are on board ship, or at the Governor's reception, or at any non-business event, isn't the well-bred and proper thing. with regard to your occupation, to say nothing about it? Well, then, why need any one make a fuss about our not wishing to advertise our connection with our important employment? Every naval officer I ever knew appeared to me to regard the service with sincere respect. But if one was given shore leave, did he want to wear his uniform? Not one. Was he ashamed of it? I imagine not. But he had the gentleman's distaste for advertising his employment or for prying into that of any other gentleman.

Therefore, after all, you agents of the Republic do not have to carry any marks on you designed to make it easy for you to be spotted as teachers. In fact, a soft veil of mystery over a stranger is an element of charm.

No great moralist has, as yet, deplored the fact that teachers have lost the distinctions observable in the Ichabod Crane era. One of our New England members of long service on the school board of his little city indicated the situation when he remarked, day before yesterday, "It's come so ye can't tell the difference between a school-teacher and any other nice girl when one gets on the car."