e to forgive him while he lived." I,
as one of the listeners, smiled at the bitter wit of the speaker, but
was oppressed.

This somber view of the impression sometimes left by teachers on their
pupils received an antidote the following day, however, when a venerable
old man approached my desk bearing in his hands an ancient and dog-eared
copy of a text in grammar. He opened the book and proudly showed me
written across the fly leaf "Grover Cleveland, President." Then he told
me this story:

"I have been a teacher. In one of my first schools I had Grover
Cleveland as a pupil. He came without a textbook in grammar, and I
loaned him mine. Years passed, and Grover Cleveland was President of the
United States. One day I was one of many hundreds passing in line at a
public reception to grasp the President's hand. I carried this book with
me, and when it came my turn to meet the President, I presented the
volume and said, 'Mr. President, do you recognize this book, and do you
remember me?' In an instant the light of recognition had flashed in Mr.
Cleveland's eyes. Calling me by name, he grasped my hand and held it
while the crowd waited and while he recalled old times and thanked me
for what I had meant to him when I was his teacher. Then he took the old
book and autographed it for me."

Three types of teachers.--Two types of teachers are remembered: one to
be forgiven after years have softened the antagonisms and resentments;
the other to be thought of with honor and gratitude as long as memory
lasts. Between these two is a third and a larger group: those who are
_forgotten_, because they failed to stamp a lasting impression on their
pupils. This group represents the _mediocrity_ of the profession, not
bad enough to be actively forgiven, not good enough to claim a place in
gratitude and remembrance.

To which type would we belong? To which type _can_ we belong? Can we
choose? What are the factors that go to determine the place we shall
occupy in the scale of teachers?

THE PERSONAL FACTOR

When we revert to our own pupil days we find that the impressions which
cling to our memories are not chiefly impressions of facts taught and of
lessons learned, but of the _personality_ of the teacher. We may have
forgotten many of the truths presented and most of the conclusions
drawn, but the warmth and glow of the human touch still remains.

To be a teacher of religion requires a particularly exalted personality.
The teacher