This is a fact about all leadership; only it receives very visible proof in the case of school-masters. Every man’s followers are given to him by destiny; and a leader of men may see himself in this looking-glass if he have a mind to do so. It will give him a truer picture of his own soul than he will find elsewhere in the world. The followers of any man resemble each other, and, of course, they also resemble their leader; though their resemblance to the leader is not always apparent, but belongs rather to the category of spiritual mysteries. Dr. Coit himself was an ecclesiastic, rustling with dogma and vestment and having ritual and anathema in his very being. And yet, as a matter of fact, he did attract to himself persons who at first sight do not seem to resemble him at all. The parents who sent their boys to the school were, as a rule, a somewhat commonplace and very valuable sort of people. They were good, straight-forward, God-fearing burghers, who wished their sons to become honorable men, and were rather deficient in business and social ambition for their children. These people, quite often, did not like Dr. Coit, nor understand him; but they felt that he would do for their sons what they wished done. They were warm people: he was a hot person. Their quiet natures responded to his great religious faith by an act of personal trust; and that was enough for Dr. Coit, for he wanted the boys. After the death of the first Doctor there followed a mitigation of religious discipline at the school and a relaxation in the social atmosphere. The quality of the place, however, remained the same. The volume of life rolled with its old momentum. The characteristic charm of the place remained unchanged. In the practical working of the organization there ensued, I believe, great disturbances; but they did not affect the spirit of the place so far as an alumnus could observe. The same magic wave was over all as before. Indeed, for my own part, I never could thoroughly enjoy St. Paul’s School while the old Doctor was alive. His peace came to me only after he had departed; and whenever I am at Concord it seems to roll through the fields and to overspread the grounds like a mist. In returning to St. Paul’s, or in taking leave of it, my imagination is always haunted by the idea of the place as it must have been in its infancy--the farmhouse, the family group, and the intense soul of the Doctor. When I think of that passionate fountain of life, rising and bubbling in the remote New Hampshire wilderness, in a solitude as complete as that of Abraham on the plains of Mamre, I cannot but be moved. Here was faith indeed! A project all aim and no means. If a strange quietude lies over the acres of St. Paul’s School to-day, and steeps in a perpetual peace the little community which this fiery soul left behind him, it is because in this place a man once wrestled with invisible antagonists and saw ladders going up into