n hour
or two along the borders of Yellowstone Canyon, and the next, watch
an eruption or two of Old Faithful geyser. Then, on still another
evening, I'd like to ride for two hours on top of a bus in London.
I'd like to have these experiences as an antidote for emptiness. It
would prepare me far better for to-morrow work than pondering
Johnny's defections, or his grades, whether high or low, or marking
silly papers with marks that are still sillier. I like Walt Whitman
because he was such a sublime loafer. His loafing gave him time to
grow big inside, and so, he had big elemental thoughts that were good
for him and good for me when I think them over after him.

If I should ever get a position in a normal school I'd want to give a
course in William J. Locke's "The Beloved Vagabond," so as to give
the young folks a conception of big elemental teaching. If I were
giving a course in ethics, I'd probably select another book, but, in
pedagogy, I'd certainly include that one. I'd lose some students, to
be sure, for some of them would be shocked; but a person who is not
big enough to profit by reading that book never ought to teach
school--I mean for the school's sake. If we could only lose the
consciousness of the fact that we are schoolmasters for a few hours
each day, it would be a great help to us and to our boys and girls.

I am quite partial to the "Madonna of the Chair," and wish I might
visit the Pitti Gallery frequently just to gaze at her. She is so
wholesome and gives one the feeling that a big soul looks out through
her eyes. She would be a superb teacher. She would fill the school
with her presence and still do it all unconsciously. The centre of
the room would be where she happened to be. She would never be
mistaken for one of the pupils. Her pupils would learn arithmetic
but the arithmetic would be laden with her big spirit, and that would
be better for them than the arithmetic could possibly be. If I had
to be a woman I'd want to be such as this Madonna--serene, majestic,
and big-souled.

I have often wondered whether bigness of soul can be cultivated, and
my optimism inclines to a vote in the affirmative. I spent a part of
one summer in the pine woods far away from the haunts of men. When I
had to leave this sylvan retreat it required eleven hours by stage to
reach the railway-station. There for some weeks I lived in a log
cabin, accompanied by a cook and a professional woodsman. I was not