in mind, are not sanatoria-none but healthy persons should undertake a serious course at such a school. But with ordinary good health there ought to be real enjoyment in a summer session. It really means a change of work for the instructor, for he becomes a pupil for the nonce; and a change of work means rest.

Again, it usually involves change of scene, a great recuperative agent in many cases. Then, too, a sufficiently large residue of vacation is left to satisfy the general run of teachers.

Such are some of the reflections on fatigue in his work from the commonplace viewpoint of the teacher. As to the scientific aspect of fatigue, it has proved a matter of fertile research, principally from the chemicophysiological and pathological sides. The investigations of Mosso and Maggiori in Italy, and of Clouston in Scotland have contributed much to our knowledge of the effects of tire on mind and body. But these matters, for adequate treatment, must be left to the scientific expert; our purpose in this article is to enforce a rule of health which may be put as follows: the teacher's occupation requires good health as an indispensable qualification.

Good health is largely a question of careful habits; and among the careful habits is the avoidance of unnecessary fatigue the conservation of our resources, physical and mental.

BROTHER VALENTINE, Xav.

Baltimore, Md.

THE EDUCATION OF THE PRIEST OF TODAY

A priest is supposed to stand between his fellow-men and God, so as to reconcile them. His fellow-men may have sinned and may not care to repent. God may be angry with them, and, to speak in a human way, He may not care to forgive. The priest must arouse in the human element a spirit of sorrow, and he must win the divine over to loving kindness. For without a mutual advance, union is impossible. Penance on the part of the one extreme is futile without the condescension of the other extreme; and all the graciousness of the heavenly Lord will be of no avail without a good disposition in the hearts of men.

To raise his brethren up, the priest must be endowed with a human magnetism; and to draw his Master down, he must be invested with a divine attractiveness. For, how can he win the hearts of men if he be not akin to man, and how can he captivate the love of God if he be not akin to God? If a priest were only divine he could accomplish his task of reconciliation, by half, on the side of heaven. If he were only human he could effect a similar result, by half, on the side of earth: because his godlike splendor would enamour the heart of the Deity in the one case; and his manly amiability would catch and rivet the affections of men and women in the other case. But if he were godly and nothing more, the electric spark of sympathy could never spring from him across to the world and back again. And if he were earth-born and nothing more, there could be no fellow-feeling between him and heaven. Hence, in the same proportion as the natural exceeds its bounds, the cords reaching upwards weaken; and in the same proportion as the supernatural unduly predominates, the hold on the under-side loosens.

God sees nothing more in a merely human priest to make Him care for the rest of the race than He sees in the rest of the race itself: and men see nothing more in a merely divine priest to induce them to turn their thoughts to God than they see in God Himself. No; there must not only be divine for the Divine; there must not only be human for the Human; but there must be divine and human combined, for both.

History is evidence. For centuries the Almighty sat on His throne and saw nothing that He loved for itself below. Melchisedec and Abraham and Aaron of themselves could not propitiate Him with their offerings. The magnificence of Solomon's Temple, with its gold from Ophir and cedarwood from Libanus and precious stoneswhat cared He for it all! What cared He for the running altars, though the 'κνίση δ' οὐρανῶν ἵκεν ἑλισσομένη περὶ καπνῶ; or for the harp hymns that wafted supplications to the sky from Mount Moriah! Incense and lights and fires and music; the odor of smoking offerings and the petitions of full hearts-all would have fainted away into thin air and been lost if they had not been vitalized by a higher force: for, humankind with all its apparatus of prayer could not put forth a human priest capable of winning the Deity.

On the other hand, for centuries men walked about the footstool of God and saw nothing that attracted them above. Jehovah in "light inaccessible" had frightened them. He had indeed been good to mortals; but majesty overwhelms. He had spoken to them; but the words of the Highest were a foreign tongue. He had shown Himself; but who could look on Him? He was near by; but His presence embarrassed. In consequence the Jews frequently went apart from Him to find alleviation in nature. And the Gentiles went to extremes in their quest of happiness amongst human attractions, because they could not appreciate the Infinite. Poor Rome! Her

imperial armies conquered all the world; but she was a slave. Poor Greece! Her golden minds and pens and tongues enriched her; but their gifts were really dross in the chemistry of Heaven. We still look back with pleasure to those twin fountain-heads of literature, sculpture and military excellence. For, all that unaided nature could effect, all that art could produce, and all that knowledge could confer was revealed in the palmy days of Attic culture and imperial Italy. They thought to find satisfaction in created fields of activity; but in vain: for, the purpose of life could not be so meagerly circumscribed as that. They would not look up to other fields, because the Almighty with all His circumstance of glory could not put forth a divine priest capable of winning humanity.

But a time was to come. Strange to say, one midnight centuries ago, a baby's "cry that shivered to the tingling stars" pierced the heart of God. That heart had been unmoved by sacrificial lavishness; but now it poured forth a flood of light that bathed the whole of heaven in its effulgence; and in the light a myriad voice rang out: "Peace on earth to men of good will." As the Child grew, He played and prayed, and worked and learned, and preached and consoled, and suffered and died. His varied activity, united with that first Christmas-night lament conciliated God. And why? Because that Priest was divine. Not that His life-work emanated from the Godnature within Him. No; He interceded for us in His human capacity. But all the acts that passed out and up from that created source, though plain and simple and limited in themselvs, were splendidly transformed in the passing, by the radiant Presence that enveloped Him. A dull mote puts on an iridescent glory as it floats up through the light of a diffracting crystal. This comparison has a suggestion of the deification of Christ's human deeds. The Father above saw in that Priest, Wisdom and Love and Power and Sanctity and Justice and

Mercy-attributes all as infinitely lovable as His own, because His own. And so, unable to resist the prayer for pardon from such a source, He spoke to the sinful world and said: "Thou poor little thing-with everlasting kindness have I had mercy on thee with great mercies will I gather thee-Arise! be enlightened-for thy light has come and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee." That Child was human, too. As an infant, as a boy, as a youth, and as a man, He had eyes that conquered majestically; lips that smiled and won; a tongue alive with eloquence; an imagination that gave to the New Testament a galaxy of pictures still luminous after nineteen hundred years; a heart perfectly tender, enthusiastic and affectionate; a mind like a shining light; a will, indomitable. See how He magnetically caught up the Magdalen in her tearful beauty, and held her in her mystical devotion: how the multitude went hungering into the desert after Him, with ears and mouth and heart wide open to the words of Eternal Life: how Andrew spent a whole day with Him in His house, wrapt; then went forth all joy to induce Peter to come and hear.

His Sacramental Presence has been just as effective as His visible was. In the early days of the Church, the halo of supernatural glory that pervaded the Catacombs emanated from Sacred Hosts, hidden away in underground tabernacles. The sweet faces of the Christian martyrs, the unconquerable courage, the ecstacy in retirement, the exaltation that they experienced in abjection were inspired by the taste of the honeyed sheaf. And when the call came to tread the sands of the arena, their thoughts remained behind them with the snowy loaf and their palates felt again, in seeming, the touch of that mighty morsel. For, from hour to hour, and from day to day, no matter where they were or in what trials they were placed, their affections hovered around the altar and their thoughts haunted the magnetic tabernacle.