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66 THE teacher's vacation is the mother's vexation,” says Mrs. Wilson, as she throws herself into a chair and draws a long breath. “ Children are such a pest! I do dread vacation worse than the plague. Not another moment of peace do I expect until vacation is over. When I get my children all off to school, then I can have a moment's quiet, and not before.”

Mrs. Wilson sends all her children to school, even little Willie, scarcely four years old. She does not expect him to learn much. O, no; nor does she care whether he does or not;' but then he is such a plague at home, and it is so pleasant to have the children all out of the way.

Here is the secret. Children are in the way at home. Primary school teacher, toiling over undeveloped intellect, with your head confused and aching on account of the tumult of the restless little sea before you, pitying that tender, tired, discontented, wriggling group of little beings ; remember, that these little creatures, germs of manhood and womanhood, endowed with immortal souls, are sent to you because they are in the way at home. Interest them the best you can, exercise them, keep their bodies from becoming deformed and their souls from being corrupted, keep them from becoming disgusted with schools and all that pertain to them, and you have done a great work. With that be satisfied, for nothing more should be expected from you.

Out of the way, do you say, Mrs. Wilson ? Glad to have your own children out of the way? It is not so with the lower animals. No brute mother willingly permits her tender offspring to be nursed and cared for by another. Try to remove the young of a wild beast from its mother, and one experiment will satisfy you. But the human mother hustles off the little ones to school— little immortals with souls susceptible to every breath of influence—and as she hears the last footfall upon the threshhold she draws a long breath to express her relief that her care and responsibility is for the next three hours transferred to the teacher.

Yes, Mrs. Wilson, your children are out of your way. Your workbasket will remain rightside up for the next three hours. You may work or play and not be annoyed by the uproarous laughter of joy and fun, or by cries of distress arising from the thumping of heads or jaming of fingers, or by visions of torn clothes and dirty faces. They are all out of your way. Do not let anxious thoughts run after them, but enjoy your quiet home and persuade yourself that your children are all safe. Do not entertain the thought that the teacher may sometimes lose his patience and exert a hurtful influence upon their tender minds ; do not think of the tender fleshi aching upon the hard bench for three long hours ; do not think of the thousand evil influences that are at work upon the mind to lead the unsuspecting into paths of sin and ruin. These thoughts might trouble you and make you unhappy. To enjoy, then, the quiet of your home only think that your children are out of the way.

Out of the way! Yes, soon they will be out of the way; out of the way that leads to true manhood, to honor, to respectability, to eternal life. Out of the way, too, so far that they will not hear a mother's voice or heed a mother's influence; out in the broad path of sin, hurrying on to certain destruction.

The boy soon learns that he is not wanted at home. He is continually made sensible that he is in the way; he feels there is nothing for him there and he must seek enjoyment elsewhere. He does seek it, and he finds it too. He grows up cultivating a taste for those amusements which he finds at the street corners, in the bar-room, in the theatre and club-room. He is in nobody's way in those places and he knows it. It is not strange that so many boys become dissipated.

Fond mother, years roll on, and your boy is out of your way. You would perhaps give worlds, were they yours to give, if you could

once more grasp him with your influence and draw hinn from ruin. But he is beyond your reach. Reach after him, cry after him, if you will, your efforts and cries are alike vain. You can spend your evenings alone and in quiet now. So quiet are they, that you start at every footstep. You lie awake in the still night time and listen for the sound of his feet. Those feet have gone out of the way. O, how you would thank God if you could hear a steady footfall upon the staircase, and the regular opening and shutting of the door of your boy's chamber.

Mrs. Wilson, when a few more years have passed, when the face is marked with deep furrows and the hair is silvered with age, and the form bent under the weight of years, you would then like to have the home circle enlivened by the manly presence of your son. You would like to walk by his side and lean upon his arm for support and listen to the sound of his voice. You would then like to have him bear patiently with your infirmities, and when the tottering frame sinks under the burden of years, you would like to have him present to smooth the pathway down to the dark river and there receive the last earthly message from your feeble lips. But he is out of the way. You sent him from you and there he remains. Out of the way now and out of the way forever.

D. S. .


TEACHER. Now, class, look at this, and tell me what it is.
Class. A piece of iron.

T. Yes. You may name as many of its properties as you can, and I will write them on the blackboard for you.

C. It is heavy, hard, solid, stiff, of a dark color, dull, can't see through it —

T. Stay, that will not do ; “ can't see through it” will not look well on the blackboard ; you must think of a word to express that property.

C. Opaque.
T. Right; go on.
C. Iron is imperfect.
T. How did you discover that ?

118 piece of. Can you you rem

C. You told us that gold, silver, and platinum are the only perfect metals; therefore iron must be an imperfect metal.

T. Very good ; I am quite encouraged to find you remembering so well, and reasoning for yourselves. Can you think of any other properties? Can I break this piece of iron ?

C. No; it is tough.
T. A better word ?
C. Tenacious.

T. Right; and if it is tenacious, what other properties will it be likely to possess ? Do you remember what we said upon this subject when we were talking about gold ?

C. Yes, teacher, it will be malleable and ductile.
T. Because it is tenacious ?

C. No; but it could not be malleable and ductile if it were not tenacious.

T. Very well ; can you name any substances that are tenacious, but possess neither of the other properties?

C. Wood, leather, cloth, and paper.

7. Right; all metals, however, possess the properties of malleability, ductility, and tenacity, in a greater or less degree. Will iron melt ?

C. Yes.
T. Therefore it is — ?
C. Fusible.

T. Right. Now I will show you the other side of this piece of iron; what will you say of it ?

C. It is rusty, red, and rough.
T. What will make iron become rusty ?
C. Letting it remain in water.
T. In the course of time what will the rust do to the iron ?
C. It will eat it away.

T. Do you know a word which expresses this property of being eaten away by rust? No? It is corrosive. Acids will corrode more quickly than water; what is an acid ?

C. Anything that has a sharp, sour taste.

T. Yes; now read over the properties of iron as they are written on the blackboard.

C. Iron is heavy, hard, solid, stiff, of a dark color, dull, opaque, imperfect, tenacious, malleable, ductile, fusible, and corrosive.

T. What is done to the iron to make it malleable and ductile ?
C. It is heated.
T. Do you know how many kinds of iron there are ?
C. Three ; forged iron, cast iron, and steel.

Very good ; do you know any other name for forged iron ? C. Worked.

T. Yes; what then do you understand wrought iron to be? ,C. Iron worked into shape.

T. But what must be done to it before it will be soft enough to be beaten into the form or shape desired ?

C. It must be made hot.

T. What is the iron block, upon which the blacksmith forges his iron, called ?

C. An anvil ; a forge.
T. Both are correct. What is cast iron ?
C. Iron melted until it can be poured into moulds.

T. Yes; it requires a great degree of heat to convert iron into a liquid ; you have, perhaps, some of you, been in an iron-foundry, and have seen the liquid fire pouring heavily down from the furnaces.

C. I have, teacher.

T. You can tell us something, then, of the process of casting, and of the moulds.

C. The moulds are made of a kind of loam, or clay; all the patterns that are to be raised-work on the iron, are hollowed out in the clay; and all patterns that are to appear hollow on the iron, are raised on the clay. After the melted iron is poured into the shapes, it remains to get quite cold; the moulds are then broken off, and the iron remains of the required form.

T. Which is the more durable, wrought or cast iron ?
C. Wrought iron ; cast iron easily breaks.

T. The casting of iron, then, destroys its tenacity, and renders it — what instead ?

C. Brittle.
T. Right. What do you consider steel to be ?
C. The best kind of iron.

T. That is about correct; it is iron worked into a more perfect form. Can you describe the process ?

C. It is made hot, and then put into cold water.

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