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
there to camp, to fish, or to loaf, and yet I did all these. There
were some duties and work connected with the enterprise and these
gave zest to the fishing and the loafing. Giant trees, space, and
sky were my most intimate associates, and they told me only of big
things. They had never a word to say of styles of clothing or
becoming shades of neckwear or hosiery. In all that time I was never
disturbed by the number and diversity of spoons and forks beside my
plate at the dinner-table. Many a noble meal I ate as I sat upon a
log supported in forked stakes, and many a big thought did I glean
from the talk of loggers about me in their picturesque costumes. In