f Monterey.

Our banners on those turrets wave,
And there our evening bugles play;
Where orange boughs above their grave
Keep green the memory of the brave
Who fought and fell at Monterey.

We are not many, we who pressed
Beside the brave who fell that day;
But who of us has not confessed
He'd rather share their warrior rest,
Than not have been at Monterey?

_Charles Fenno Hoffman._

The Teacher's "If"

If you can take your dreams into the classroom,
And always make them part of each day's work--
If you can face the countless petty problems
Nor turn from them nor ever try to shirk--
If you can live so that the child you work with
Deep in his heart knows you to be a man--
If you can take "I can't" from out his language
And put in place a vigorous "I can"--

If you can take Love with you to the classroom,
And yet on Firmness never shut the door--
If you can teach a child the love of Nature
So that he helps himself to all her store--
If you can teach him life is what we make it,
That he himself can be his only bar--
If you can tell him something of the heavens,
Or something of the wonder of a star--

If you, with simple bits of truth and honor,
His better self occasionally reach--
And yet not overdo nor have him dub you
As one who is inclined to ever preach--
If you impart to him a bit of liking
For all the wondrous things we find in print--
Yet have him understand that to be happy,
Play, exercise, fresh air he must not stint--

If you can give of all the best that's in you,
And in the giving always happy be--
If you can find the good that's hidden somewhere
Deep in the heart of every child you see--
If you can do these things and all the others
That teachers everywhere do every day--
You're in the work that you were surely meant for;
Take hold of it! Know it's your place and stay!

_R.J. Gale._

The Good Shepherd

There were ninety and nine
Of a flock, sleek and fine
In a sheltering cote in the vale;
But a lamb was away,
On the mountain astray,
Unprotected within the safe pale.

Then the sleet and the rain
On the mountain and plain,
And the wind fiercely blowing a gale,
And the night's growing dark,
And the wolf's hungry bark
Stir the soul of the shepherd so hale.

And he says, "Hireling, go;
For a lamb's in the snow
And exposed to the wild hungry beast;
'Tis no time to keep seat,
Nor to rest weary feet,
Nor