This is the age of hero-worship and every boy in this period, without exception, has a personal hero. He may not take the world into his confidence by divulging his secret, but whether admitted or not, he possesses a hero whom he looks up to, admires, and copies. I know a thirteen-year-old lad whose hero is his eighteen-year-old cousin for whom his admiration manifests itself to the extent of trying to imitate his tone of voice, his walk, his gestures, and personal appearance, including the wearing of the same kind of ties which his cousin affects. He never ceases praising the football prowess of his relative and continually quotes him as an authority on athletics. The boy of this age worships a physical hero. Power, strength, and authority make a powerful appeal. His hero may be the policeman on his beat who is the emblem of physical strength and vested with the authority of law to make arrests; the fireman who displays wonderful courage in the rescue of imperiled persons from burning buildings; the engineer who guides the locomotive dashing like a meteor through the blackness of night; the prize fighter who has won a championship in the squared ring; or the baseball or football athlete whose name is on every tongue. His hero must be a mighty man of action, for he worships at the shrine of athletic prowess. To test the truth of this statement, ask any boy you may meet, between the ages of twelve and sixteen, whether he would rather be the winner of the Nobel prize for scientific achievement or Ty Cobb (with a batting average of approximately .370), and the unanimous verdict will be in favor of the ballplayer. So strongly is hero-worship implanted in his nature and so completely does it dominate his viewpoint that it remains, with gradually diminishing intensity, for many years thereafter. Happy the boy whose father is his hero and happy the father who is a hero to his son!