CHAPTER IVBe Choice of Language

“Nothing good shall ever perish,Only the corrupt shall die;Truth, which men and angels cherish,Flourishes eternally.”

“Nothing good shall ever perish,Only the corrupt shall die;Truth, which men and angels cherish,Flourishes eternally.”

“Nothing good shall ever perish,Only the corrupt shall die;Truth, which men and angels cherish,Flourishes eternally.”

“Nothing good shall ever perish,

Only the corrupt shall die;

Truth, which men and angels cherish,

Flourishes eternally.”

Good old Matthew Henry used to say, “Truth is mighty and will prevail.” “Falsehood,” as one of the kings of Prussia said, “sometimes does good for twenty-four hours, but like a battle well fought, right comes off more than conqueror.” Falsehood is always defeated. It shrinks at detection and in due time is compelled to confess. Truth is sure and has a firm foundation because it is an attribute of God. And “God and truth,” said Theodore Parker, “are always on the same side.” Therefore

“Seize upon truth, where’er ’tis found,Amongst your friends, amongst your foes,On Christian or on heathen ground;The flower’s divine where’er it grows.”

“Seize upon truth, where’er ’tis found,Amongst your friends, amongst your foes,On Christian or on heathen ground;The flower’s divine where’er it grows.”

“Seize upon truth, where’er ’tis found,Amongst your friends, amongst your foes,On Christian or on heathen ground;The flower’s divine where’er it grows.”

“Seize upon truth, where’er ’tis found,

Amongst your friends, amongst your foes,

On Christian or on heathen ground;

The flower’s divine where’er it grows.”

CHAPTER IVBe Choice of Language

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER IV

By General O. O. Howard

By General O. O. Howard

By General O. O. Howard

“Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,To swear is neither brave, polite nor wise;You would not swear upon a bed of death;Reflect—your Maker now may stop your breath.”Anonymous.

“Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,To swear is neither brave, polite nor wise;You would not swear upon a bed of death;Reflect—your Maker now may stop your breath.”Anonymous.

“Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,To swear is neither brave, polite nor wise;You would not swear upon a bed of death;Reflect—your Maker now may stop your breath.”Anonymous.

“Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,

To swear is neither brave, polite nor wise;

You would not swear upon a bed of death;

Reflect—your Maker now may stop your breath.”

Anonymous.

One moonlight night I was passing near a sentinel’s post. It was during the winter of 1861–2, in front of Alexandria, Virginia, at Camp California. The sentinel, in some trouble, used rough, coarse language, closing with an oath. Approaching him, till I could see his face, think of my astonishment to find him, instead of a burly man of low life, a handsome boy of seventeen. I said to him pleasantly: “How could your mother have taught you to swear?” Dropping his head with a sudden shame, he answered, “She didn’t, General. I learned it here.” And indeed, it came from the influence of his associates.

One’s language always gauges him.

Oliver O. Howard

CHAPTER IVBe Choice of Language

Few things are more important and far-reaching than the use of words. If good, they

—“have power to ’suageThe tumults of a troubled mindAnd are as balm to fester’d wounds.”

—“have power to ’suageThe tumults of a troubled mindAnd are as balm to fester’d wounds.”

—“have power to ’suageThe tumults of a troubled mindAnd are as balm to fester’d wounds.”

—“have power to ’suage

The tumults of a troubled mind

And are as balm to fester’d wounds.”

If bad, they corrupt and may flourish, as Carlyle said: “Like a hemlock forest after a thousand years.”

“Immodest words admit of no defence,For want of decency is want of sense.”

“Immodest words admit of no defence,For want of decency is want of sense.”

“Immodest words admit of no defence,For want of decency is want of sense.”

“Immodest words admit of no defence,

For want of decency is want of sense.”

One of the most historic structures in the world was the Campanile, or the bell-tower of St. Mark’s Cathedral in Venice. Not long since it fell. One aged Lugui Vendrasco knew its danger. For ten years he had not ceased to beg the government to allow him to put the Campanile in better order. But his warnings were unheeded. One Sunday morning he took his son to see it. As the young man looked upon the crack he said, “That’s nothing. A small crack like that can really do no harm to such a building.” Replying, the father said, “Son, it is not the crack. It is that of which the crack is the effect and symbol. Our Campanile is doomed.” The next morning it fell with an awful crash. In like manner many a man has come tumbling down. His character was not safe because of someflaw in it. Improper words prove its great defect as the crack did the weakness of the Campanile.

Stephen Price, once Mayor of New York, and a warm friend to boys, lost his life in a steamboat disaster. When his body was recovered, a scrap of paper was found in his pocket-book. It was so worn with oft reading that the words were scarcely legible, but two paragraphs were finally made out, one of which was: “Good company and good conversation are the very sinews of virtue.” In fact, these are inseparable. Conversation is a reflex of character, and no boy can associate with another who delights in slangy, smutty talk without being more or less contaminated.

A very common and bad habit of some boys is the attachment of improper words to a sentence, as if it made it more binding. These in no sense give grace or beauty to language. They do not round out a period or enrich a metaphor. They define nothing, bound nothing, measure nothing, mean nothing, accomplish nothing, and he who uses them should be shunned. Vulgar expressions are never in order. “They help,” as South says, “no one’s education or manners. They are disgusting to the refined, abominable to the good, insulting to those with whom one associates, degrading to the mind, unprofitable, needless and injurious to society,” and beneath the dignity of any self-respecting person. “Are there any ladies around?” said a young officer to a group of others, “I’ve a splendid story to tell.” “There are no ladies present,” said General Ulysses S. Grant, who overheard the remark, “but there are gentlemen here, sir, and what is not fit for a lady to hear, is unfit for a gentleman.”

When Coleridge Patterson, the martyred bishop of Melanesia, was a boy at Eton, he was enthusiasticallyfond of cricket, at which he was an unusually good player. At the cricket suppers at Eton, it was the custom to give toasts followed by songs, and these songs were often of a very questionable sort. Before one of these suppers, “Coley” told the captain that he would protest against the introduction of anything that was vulgar or indecent. His protest apparently had no effect, for during the evening, one of the boys arose and began to sing a song which “Coley” thought was not fit for decent boys to hear. Whereupon, rising from his seat, he said, “If this sort of thing continues, I shall leave the room.” It was continued and he left. The next day he wrote to the captain of the eleven, saying unless he received an apology, he should withdraw from the club. The apology was sent and Patterson remained. By that stand he showed his character, which won the admiration of the rest and brought about a new state of affairs. No boy need answer another who addresses him in unbecoming language. He might say as Stephen A. Douglas, when denounced in the Senate in improper language, “What no gentleman should say, no gentleman need answer.” And as to keeping the company of anyone who is inclined to be vulgar, there is no law to compel it. Far better be a Coleridge Patterson in shunning such company.

The true gentlemanly boy has a sense of honor, scrupulously avoiding profane words as he would profane actions. No habit is more unbecoming, useless and contagious than swearing. It is the fool’s impulse and the coward’s fortification. It neither helps one’s manners nor education, and no boy with the least personal pride will be guilty of indulging in it. Louis IX of France punished everyone who was convicted of swearing by searing his lips with a hot iron.

George Washington made the following law August 3, 1776, which he caused to be read to the men under his command: “The general is sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing, a vice heretofore little known in an American army, is growing into fashion; he hopes the officers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to check it, and that both they and the men will reflect that we can have but little hope of the blessing of Heaven on our armies if we insult Him by our impiety and folly; added to this, it is a vice so mean and low, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises it.”

Years ago the Hon. John Finch visited an asylum in the East and asked to see a certain professional gentleman committed there. He had been a good and true man, but by overwork, physical and mental, had wrecked himself and become a raving maniac. The superintendent of the asylum said, “You will not want to see him again, he swears so.” As they entered the room in which the man was locked in a “straight jacket,” the most vulgar oaths came from his lips. Touching the superintendent Mr. Finch said, “What can this mean? When I knew that man he was one of the grandest Christians, true, noble and good in every respect; and now to hear such vile language coming from him surprises me.” The superintendent said, “He learned to swear when a boy. The impressions made on his brain at that period of life when the brain most readily receives impressions now become the governing ones. In this asylum we can almost uniformly tell what have been the habits, customs and abuses of insane people when they were children. The brain at such times receives impressions readily, the impressions are permanent, and if they have indulged in vile practices, or used bad language, the dethronement ofreason and intelligent conscience will give to early impressions and habits the control of the mind.” This being true, how careful every boy should be, for who wants the bad habits of youth noticeable in age?

There are many ways in which language may be improperly used, but none more unbecoming and attended with more serious consequences than blasphemy, or using the name of God or Christ with disrespect. It is a presumptuous sin against which God has declared: “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain,” declaring with emphasis, “for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain.”

Sometimes, as Jacob Knapp said in his autobiography, “God steps aside from His ordinary course and smites presumptuous sinners dead, that they may stand as beacon lights to warn others to shun the rocks on which they struck.” During the Black Hawk war, in Illinois, at the time when God sent the cholera among the people, an officer cursed God for sending the disease into their midst. With an awful oath he opened his mouth, and God smote him down even as the word trembled on his lips. Such cases are rare, yet the words, “will not hold him guiltless,” show that He forgets not and that sometime He will hold the blasphemer accountable.

Howard, the philanthropist, on hearing anyone use blasphemous expressions, always buttoned up his coat. Being asked the reason, he replied, “I always do this when I hear men swear, as I think that anyone who can take God’s name in vain can also steal.” Nothing so chills one’s blood as—

—“to hear the blest SupremeRudely appealed to on each trifling theme;Therefore maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,To blaspheme is neither brave, polite nor wise.You would not do so upon the bed of death;Reflect! Your Maker now could stop your breath.”

—“to hear the blest SupremeRudely appealed to on each trifling theme;Therefore maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,To blaspheme is neither brave, polite nor wise.You would not do so upon the bed of death;Reflect! Your Maker now could stop your breath.”

—“to hear the blest SupremeRudely appealed to on each trifling theme;Therefore maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,To blaspheme is neither brave, polite nor wise.You would not do so upon the bed of death;Reflect! Your Maker now could stop your breath.”

—“to hear the blest Supreme

Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme;

Therefore maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,

To blaspheme is neither brave, polite nor wise.

You would not do so upon the bed of death;

Reflect! Your Maker now could stop your breath.”

“AMEN!”

“AMEN!”

“AMEN!”

“AMEN!”

Many years ago when the Duke of Gordon was spending the day in a Scotch village a company of soldiers was drawn up under the window of the room in which the duke and a party of friends were enjoying themselves. The officer in command was inspecting his men’s arms and clothes, and if anything displeased him he berated the soldier with blasphemous oaths. The duke, who abhorred such language, expressed a wish that the inspection might soon be over. “If your Grace desires it,” said one of the company, “I will clear the coast of this man of oaths without noise or bloodshed.” “Do so, and I’ll be obliged to you,” said the duke. The gentleman stepped into the street, took his station behind the officer and pulled off his hat. As the officer swore, the gentleman, with the grave solemnity of a parish clerk, said in a loud voice “Amen.” “What do you mean?” asked the officer, hastily turning around. “I am joining with you in prayer,” answered the gentleman with a grave face. “I thank you, sir,” rejoined the officer, “but I have no further need for a clerk. Soldiers! to the right-about, march!” And he and his soldiers departed, much to the amusement and happiness of the duke, after teaching an important lesson to the officer that it is wrong to call upon God to do this or that, or to belittle others by vile epithets which never fail to bring in due time just retribution.

My boy, the only language to use is the pure andrefined. By-words, slang phrases, profanity and blasphemy are only uttered by lips whose heart is bad, for “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.” Let your tongue utter sound sentences, choice words and pleasant expressions, then will they be musical to the ears of the good, sweet to the soul of the pious, educational to those who associate with you, and beneficial to all. From this day put into practice the last words of the eloquent John B. Gough. He was lecturing in the Presbyterian Church, Frankford, Pa., on the night of February 19, 1886. In the course of that lecture he said: “I have seven years in the record of my own life when I was held in the iron grasp of intemperance. I would give the world to blot it out, but alas! I cannot.” Then, stepping forward, with an impressive gesture, he added, “Young man, keep your record—” but he was unable to finish the sentence, for he sank insensible into a chair from which he was never able to rise. Evidently he meant to say, “Young man, keep your record clean.”

Do not forget that improper words have a reflex influence. A fable is told how a bee took an offering of honey to Jupiter, which so pleased him that he promised to grant the bee whatever it should ask. The bee said, “O glorious Jove, give thy servant a sting, that when anyone approaches my hive to take the honey, I may kill him on the spot.” Jupiter answered, “Your prayer shall not be granted in the way you wish, but the sting you ask for, you shall have; and when anyone comes to take away your honey, and you sting him, the wound shall be fatal, not to him, but to you, for your life shall go with the sting.” So is it to this day. He that curseth others, curseth himself. Therefore my boy, control your tongue, and keep the door of your lips, remembering:

“’Tis reason’s partTo govern and to guard the heart,To lull the wayward soul to rest,When hopes and fears distract the breast;Reason may calm this doubtful strife,And steer thy bark through various life.”

“’Tis reason’s partTo govern and to guard the heart,To lull the wayward soul to rest,When hopes and fears distract the breast;Reason may calm this doubtful strife,And steer thy bark through various life.”

“’Tis reason’s partTo govern and to guard the heart,To lull the wayward soul to rest,When hopes and fears distract the breast;Reason may calm this doubtful strife,And steer thy bark through various life.”

“’Tis reason’s part

To govern and to guard the heart,

To lull the wayward soul to rest,

When hopes and fears distract the breast;

Reason may calm this doubtful strife,

And steer thy bark through various life.”

CHAPTER VBe Ambitious

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER V

By Booker T. Washington

By Booker T. Washington

By Booker T. Washington

Our natures are like oil; compound us with anything,Yet will we strive to swim to the top.—Beaumont.

Our natures are like oil; compound us with anything,Yet will we strive to swim to the top.—Beaumont.

Our natures are like oil; compound us with anything,Yet will we strive to swim to the top.

Our natures are like oil; compound us with anything,

Yet will we strive to swim to the top.

—Beaumont.

—Beaumont.

Writing of the gentleman who introduces this chapter—the Washington of his people in industry, education and religion, Paul Dunbar, the negro poet, says:

“A poor Virginia cabin gave the seed;And from its dark and lowly door there cameA peer of princes in the world’s acclaim,A master spirit for the nation’s need.Strong, silent, purposeful beyond his kind,The ark of rugged force on brow and lip,Straight on he goes, nor turns to look behind,With one idea foremost in his mindLike the keen prow of some on-forging ship.”

“A poor Virginia cabin gave the seed;And from its dark and lowly door there cameA peer of princes in the world’s acclaim,A master spirit for the nation’s need.Strong, silent, purposeful beyond his kind,The ark of rugged force on brow and lip,Straight on he goes, nor turns to look behind,With one idea foremost in his mindLike the keen prow of some on-forging ship.”

“A poor Virginia cabin gave the seed;And from its dark and lowly door there cameA peer of princes in the world’s acclaim,A master spirit for the nation’s need.Strong, silent, purposeful beyond his kind,The ark of rugged force on brow and lip,Straight on he goes, nor turns to look behind,With one idea foremost in his mindLike the keen prow of some on-forging ship.”

“A poor Virginia cabin gave the seed;

And from its dark and lowly door there came

A peer of princes in the world’s acclaim,

A master spirit for the nation’s need.

Strong, silent, purposeful beyond his kind,

The ark of rugged force on brow and lip,

Straight on he goes, nor turns to look behind,

With one idea foremost in his mind

Like the keen prow of some on-forging ship.”

I would say to every young man, no matter what his color, to choose as early as possible a good, clean-cut business, something that will help make the world better, and then strive in every worthy way to make that business the most successful of its kind in the world. The boy who lets obstacles overcome him will not succeed. The great thing is to succeed in spite of discouragements.

Booker T. Washington.

CHAPTER VBe Ambitious

Many a pen has been used against this inward passion, declaring it a “secret poison, a gallant madness and the mother of hypocrisy.” The great Wolsey cried, “I charge thee, fling away ambition.” Bowes said, “The most aspiring are frequently the most contemptible,” but there are exceptions to the rule. Where there is no aspiration, there is no endeavor. It is not wrong to strain mental and physical energies to succeed, provided it is to be good and to do good. The ambition of Napoleon to lay waste the town of Acre was wrong, that of Wellington to intercept the “scourge of Europe,” right. “To be ambitious of true honor, of the true glory and perfections of our natures, is,” as Sir Philip Sidney said, “the very principle and incentive of virtue.”

One of the customs of the Norsemen was that of wearing a pickaxe crest with the motto, “Either I will find a way or make one.” An adage of the day reads, “Where there’s a will there’s a way.” What one wills to do can usually be done. George Stephenson determined to make an engine to run between Liverpool and Manchester at the rate of twelve miles an hour. TheQuarterly Reviewridiculed the idea, saying, “As well trust one’s self to be fired off on a Congreve rocket.” He did it, nevertheless. Prince Bismarck’s greatest ambition was to snatch Germany from Austrian oppression and to gather round Prussia, in a North Germanconfederation, all the States whose tone of thought, religion and interest, were in harmony with those of Prussia. “To attain this end,” he once said, “I would brave all dangers—exile, even the scaffold. What matters if they hang me, provided the rope with which I am hung binds this new Germany firmly to the Prussian throne?” And, he did it.

There is nothing wrong in aspiring high. George Washington proposed to carve his name higher than any other on the Natural Bridge in Virginia, and did it. Alfred Harmsworth, “king of the penny press,” said on entering journalism, “I will master the business of editing and publishing.” At twenty-one he had a little capital, at thirty he was a millionaire, and later became head of the largest publishing house in the world.

Emerson once said, “Hitch your wagon to a star.” It is but a natural condition of a healthful life when energies seek an outlet in some lofty activity. Better endeavor if but to fail, than never try at all. “I know,” says Morris, “how far high failure overleaps the bounds of low successes.” The sense of such makes us capable of a grave and holy sense of the real soberness and meaning of life. George Eliot in writing the last words of her most powerful book, exclaims, “It is so much less than what I hoped for.” A great artist was once highly praised for a beautiful painting which he had just completed. “Ah, do not praise me!” he sadly said, “it may be very beautiful, but I aimed at perfection.” When Napoleon started on his campaign he was ridiculed and nicknamed “The Little Corporal,” which cut him to the quick, but it proved to be a goad which stirred him to become a great general. In one of our courts a poor carpenter was once planing a magistrate’s bench, when an onlooker inquired, “Why are you so careful withsuch a rough piece of furniture?” “Because I wish to make it for the time when I shall sit as judge upon it,” was the reply. And that time came.

In 1805 there was born in London a boy of a hated and branded people. When sixteen years of age he became a clerk in a solicitor’s office, and, to the amusement of his companions, he was wont to say: “I intend to be prime minister of England.” He had no liberal education, yet he won honors of literary skill and scholarship. He was ambitious, and eventually won his way to Parliament. When he attempted to deliver his first speech, his highflown style and extravagant gestures provoked laughter and hisses, so that he took his seat with great mortification. In doing so, he uttered a remarkable prophecy, “I shall sit down now, but the time will come when you will hear me.” True to the utterance, that time came to Benjamin Disraeli, when, in Shakespeare’s words he could have said, “People and senators! be not affrighted; fly not; stand still; ambition’s debt is paid.”

Years ago a poor German boy named Schliemann read of the siege of Troy, and made up his mind to find the ruins of that ancient city. He procured books and taught himself six or seven languages. He persevered and prospered until as a merchant he made a fortune. Every step of his study and money-making was taken with the aim of fulfilling the vow of his boyhood. In due time he started eastward with a company of laborers, and for long years pursued his search. At last success crowned his efforts. Troy was discovered and the gold, silver and bronze articles of the Trojan king were dug out of his palace, and placed on exhibition at South Kensington, England.

One day while wandering about Cincinnati a young artist saw a sign which read, “Peter Skinner, Chairmaker.” “Why can’t I make chairs?” he asked himself. He straightway entered the establishment, resolved to ask for a position. In order to get to the office, he had to pass through the paint room, and the sight of several busy workers prompted him to inwardly exclaim, “Anyway I can paint chairs.” The firm wanted a hand, and he was engaged to come the next morning to work in the paint shop. As he wended his way back he tarried a moment to see how the painters did their work. That evening when he reached his room in the boarding-house, he borrowed a brush and an old chair, and began practising. Next morning he was on hand at the chair factory and there continued to work for two months at nine dollars per week. No one ever discovered that he was not an experienced chair-painter. During his leisure time at the boarding-house he made pencil drawings and dropped them carelessly on the floor so that they would attract attention. The landlord, a colonel in the militia, possessed a strong, characteristic face and the artist drew him in uniform, and dropped this picture on the floor of his room. His chief ambition was to return to portrait painting. He thought the drawing would please the colonel, and it did; so much so, that it led to his receiving a commission to paint the portraits of the colonel and his family, consisting of five members, at five dollars each. With this work to occupy him he left the chair factory, and soon the reputation of James H. Beard, the celebrated portrait and animal painter, was made.

History records thousands of those who have pressed their way upward until they were crowned with success in spite of the distressing, discouraging, circumstantial law of gravitation, in which poverty and uncouth ancestry have played an important part. Whatthese have done, any other boy can do, providing he argues not

“Against heaven’s hand or will, not ’bate a jotOf heart or hope, but still bear up and steerRight onward.”

“Against heaven’s hand or will, not ’bate a jotOf heart or hope, but still bear up and steerRight onward.”

“Against heaven’s hand or will, not ’bate a jotOf heart or hope, but still bear up and steerRight onward.”

“Against heaven’s hand or will, not ’bate a jot

Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer

Right onward.”

There is, however, a spirit of discontent manifested by many who envy those a few rounds higher on life’s social or business ladder, and who are determined to surpass them at whatever cost. Such ambition is justly foredoomed to disappointment, like Alexander’s, who wept because there were no more worlds for him to conquer; and like Pisistratus, to whom the Athenian law-giver said, “Were it not for your ambition, you would be the best citizen of Athens.”

Ambition that rises from discontent or selfishness is false. It lacks conscience to engineer it. A boy is only fit to go higher as he demonstrates faithfulness where he is. A boy that simply wants to climb without endeavoring to do well in the position he holds is, as Beecher said, “Neither fit to be where he is, nor yet above it; he is already too high, and should be put lower.” “Out of the frying-pan into the fire,” though not his motto, will doubtless be his result.

Not long ago, at Ellis Island, a large number of immigrants were awaiting examination. Among them was a tall Polish lad with a little black bag under his arm. When his turn came to answer the inevitable question, “How much money have you?” he smiled, and frankly answered “None.” “But don’t you know you can’t come in here if you have no money, and no friend to speak for you? Where are you going?” asked theinspector. “To Fall River first. I have a friend there. Then I shall see the whole country. You will hear of me,” he answered. The inspector proceeded rather sharply, “How will you get to Fall River? Where will you eat and sleep to-night?” “I shall be all right,” replied the lad confidently. “With this,” tapping the black bag, “I can go anywhere.” “What is it?” The Pole laughed, and opening the bag, took out a cornet. It was a fine instrument, and gave evidence of loving care. “Can you play it well?” asked the officer, kindly. In answer the young man stepped out into an open space, and lifting the horn to his lips, began the beautiful intermezzo from “Cavalleria Rusticana.” At the very first note every one in the great building stood still and listened. The long lines of immigrants became motionless. The forlorn waiters in the pit looked up, and their faces became tender. Even the meanest among them seemed to feel the charm of the pleading notes. When the music ceased, there was a burst of applause. Shouts of “Bravo,” “Good boy,” “Give us some more,” came from every side. The physicians, who a few moments before had made their hurried and not over-gentle examination, joined in the applause. The officer who had questioned him so sharply slapped him on the back. The commissioner himself had come up from his office at the sound of the horn, and asked for particulars. When he had heard them, he turned to the agent of the Fall River boats, and said, “Give this lad a passage, including meals, and charge it to me.” “I will charge it to myself,” said the agent, and he took the young Pole by the arm and led him away. “With this I can go anywhere,” showed not only his ambitious spirit, but demonstrated faithfulness in the prosecution of his studies, which now stood him in good stead and made him master of the situation. How true, as Massinger sang,

“Man was markedA friend in the creation, to himself,And may, with fit ambition, conceiveThe greatest blessings and the highest honorsAppointed for him, if he can achieve themThe right and noble way.”

“Man was markedA friend in the creation, to himself,And may, with fit ambition, conceiveThe greatest blessings and the highest honorsAppointed for him, if he can achieve themThe right and noble way.”

“Man was markedA friend in the creation, to himself,And may, with fit ambition, conceiveThe greatest blessings and the highest honorsAppointed for him, if he can achieve themThe right and noble way.”

“Man was marked

A friend in the creation, to himself,

And may, with fit ambition, conceive

The greatest blessings and the highest honors

Appointed for him, if he can achieve them

The right and noble way.”

Ambition, to succeed, must seize opportunity by the forelock. “Behind she is bald; if you seize her by the forelock, you may hold her; if suffered to escape, not Jupiter himself can catch her again.” “Do that which lies nearest you,” is an injunction worth obeying, and though not the most satisfactory, may be the stepping-stone to something higher. John D. Rockefeller, who is computed to be worth three hundred million dollars, earned his first money hoeing potatoes, and when thirty-five years of age owned but a thousand dollars. When Edison was a very poor young man, walking the streets in search of work, he happened to step into an office in Wall street. The telegraph recording machine was out of order, and no one could make it work. Instead of pleading his case in general statements, he simply asked if he might try his hand on the balky machine. He was permitted, and was successful. This was the turning point in his career toward fortune. He not only had knowledge and skill enough to make a machine go, but he had wit enough to perceive the opportunity just at hand. Some things are difficult to perceive because they are close to us. But this is all the more reason why we should look for them and with the barest possibility seize them.

Ambition which ennobles, must do well whatever there is to be done. Gladstone’s advice to boys was, “Be thorough in what you do, and remember that, though ignorance often may be innocence, pretension isalways despicable.” President Garfield tells of a schoolmate who established a factory for the single purpose of making hammers, which he had brought to great perfection, and in which he took a great pride. The statesman said to his old friend, “By this time you must be able to make a pretty good hammer.” The hammer-maker, who was shipping his wares by the thousands to all parts of the earth, replied: “No, we do not make any pretty good hammers; we make the best hammers that can be made.” “I commission thee, my son,” said an aged artist, whose eye was failing and hand trembling, “do thy best.” The young man hesitated, thinking the duty too vast to finish his master’s work, but the injunction “do thy best” rang in his ears. With prayer for help and high purpose in heart, the young man began. As he wrought, his hand grew steady, his conception cleared, each stroke became a master-stroke until with tearful exultation, the aged artist gave over into the hand of Leonardo da Vinci the task from which his own trembling hand was dropping, which task for da Vinci meant a world-wide reputation.

“I was invited,” said the late D. W. Richardson, “to give an address at St. Andrew’s University, and to listen in the evening to a lecture by another man—like myself, an outsider. I was not personally acquainted with this other man, but I knew that he filled an important judicial office in Scotland, and was considered one of the most able and learned, as well as one of the wittiest men in that country. He chose for his subject ‘Self-Culture,’ and for an hour held us in a perfect dream of pleasure. For my own part, I could not realize that the hour had fled. The lecture ended at seven o’clock, and at eight I found myself seated at dinner by the side of the lecturer, at the house of one of the university professors. In the course of the dinner I made some referenceto the hall in which the exercises of the day had been held, how good it was for sound, and what a fine structure to look upon. ‘And did you like the way in which the stones were laid inside?’ asked my new friend. ‘Immensely,’ I replied, ‘the man who laid those stones was an artist who must have thought that his work would live through the ages.’ ‘Well, that is pleasant to hear,’ he said, ‘for the walls are my ain daein’.’ He had the Scottish accent when in earnest. ‘Fortunate man,’ I replied, ‘to have the means to build so fine a place,’ for I thought, naturally enough, that, being a rich man, he had built this hall at his own expense, and presented it to the university. ‘Fortunate, truly,’ he answered, ‘but not in that sense. What I mean is, that I laid every one of those stones with my ain hand. I was a working mason, and the builder of the hall gave me the job of laying the inside stone-work; and I never had a job in my life in which I took so much pride and so much pleasure.’

“While this man was working with his hands he was working also with his brain. He took his degree, went to the bar, and became a man honored throughout the country. We applauded his brilliant lecture; but those silent, beautiful stones before him, which echoed our applause, must, I think, have been to him one cheer more, and a big one.”

Be ambitious, my boy. Embrace every opportunity, for such “is the small end of a big thing.” The small end comes first and may be good as a handle. “My chance has come,” said Commodore Dewey to a naval captain with whom he dined just before leaving Washington to assume command of the Asiatic squadron early in 1898. “You know, Farragut did not get his chance till he was over sixty, but he took it, and—” something interfered with the conversation and thesentence was never finished in words, but the rest of it reverberated around the world from the roar of Dewey’s guns at Manila. Keep your eyes open. Hear, but say little. Count the cost before you bargain. Weigh matters before you buy, and if there is a possibility of success, grasp it. Spare no labor, nor shrink from danger, for in the words of Montrose,

“He either fears his fate too muchOr his deserts are small,That dares not put it to the touchTo gain or lose it all.”

“He either fears his fate too muchOr his deserts are small,That dares not put it to the touchTo gain or lose it all.”

“He either fears his fate too muchOr his deserts are small,That dares not put it to the touchTo gain or lose it all.”

“He either fears his fate too much

Or his deserts are small,

That dares not put it to the touch

To gain or lose it all.”

CHAPTER VIBe Industrious

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER VI

By John T. Rich

By John T. Rich

By John T. Rich

Industry—To meditate, to plan, resolve, perform,Which in itself is good—as surely bringsReward of good, no matter what be done.—Pollock.

Industry—To meditate, to plan, resolve, perform,Which in itself is good—as surely bringsReward of good, no matter what be done.—Pollock.

Industry—To meditate, to plan, resolve, perform,Which in itself is good—as surely bringsReward of good, no matter what be done.—Pollock.

Industry—

To meditate, to plan, resolve, perform,

Which in itself is good—as surely brings

Reward of good, no matter what be done.

—Pollock.

Industry stimulates honesty,—honesty for its own sake, not because it is the best policy.Such sweetened by courtesy, seasons our attainments with a delightful relish and portends a rich reward.—H. D. Wilson.

Industry stimulates honesty,—honesty for its own sake, not because it is the best policy.Such sweetened by courtesy, seasons our attainments with a delightful relish and portends a rich reward.—H. D. Wilson.

Industry stimulates honesty,—honesty for its own sake, not because it is the best policy.Such sweetened by courtesy, seasons our attainments with a delightful relish and portends a rich reward.—H. D. Wilson.

Industry stimulates honesty,—honesty for its own sake, not because it is the best policy.

Such sweetened by courtesy, seasons our attainments with a delightful relish and portends a rich reward.

—H. D. Wilson.

Industry means success in life. Without it, genius, ability, scholarship and good intentions are of no avail. By industry, poverty, lack of opportunity and the greatest obstacles in human life may be overcome, and success in life assured.

John T. Rich

CHAPTER VIBe Industrious

“The best thing I remember,” said Chauncey Depew to a company of young men in New York, “was my graduation from Yale. I made up my mind that day that I would lead a life of scholastic ease. I thought I would read a little, write a little, take it easy and have a good time. I had a hard-headed father of sturdy Dutch ancestry. He had enough money to take care of me, and I knew it, and when he discovered that I knew it and intended to act accordingly, it was a cold day for me. Said he, ‘You will never get a dollar from me except through my will. From this time forth you have to make your own way.’ Well, I found I had a hard lot of it—nobody had a harder one—and my father stood by and watched me tussle and fight it out. I bless him for that to-night with all the heart and gratitude I have. If he had taken the other course, what should I have done? I should have been up in Peekskill to-night nursing a stove, complaining of the men who have succeeded in the world, and wondering by what exceptional luck they had got on; but having my way to dig alone, I got beyond everything my father dreamed of, but it was done by fourteen, or sixteen, or eighteen hours’ work a day, if necessary.”

The path to any notable achievement, whether business or professional, is not easy. “No pains, no gains,” is an old English proverb, which is akin to the well-knownone, “No sweat, no sweet.” Few are the royal roads to fame. Every house Beautiful is situated on a hill Difficulty, the pathway to which is lion-guarded. He who has not the hardihood to climb the one and face the other, will never cross the threshold of the palace. Former Chief Justice Chase used to say that when he came to Washington, a poor boy, an uncle of his was a member of the Cabinet. He went to him and said, “I want to get a place under the government.” His uncle answered, “Salmon, if you want money to buy a pickaxe and shovel to go to work out here on the street, I will furnish you with the money; but you shall never have a position, under the government, with my consent.” To that act of his uncle Chief Justice Chase said he owed his successful career. “Your royal highness,” said Paderewski when told that he was surely inspired, “will be surprised when I tell you that I remember the day when I was quite an indifferent player. I was determined, however, to be what the world calls a genius, and to be a genius I well knew that I must first be a drudge, for genius and drudgery always go hand in hand. Genius”—and Paderewski spoke excitedly—“is three-quarters drudgery—that’s what genius is. I at one time practiced day after day, year after year, till I became almost insensible to sound—became a machine, as it were. Now, ‘Paderewski is a genius,’ says the world! Yes, but Paderewski was a drudge before he was a genius!”

Just as the acorn goes slowly toward the oak, so does the babe journey toward the sage. Haydn and Handel were years before they presented the world with perfect music. Some of the pages of Tennyson’s manuscript have as many as fifty corrections. Only by filling barrels with manuscripts and steadily refusing to publish, Robert Louis Stevenson attained his exquisite style. Millet described his career as ten years of daubing, tenyears of despair, and ten years of liberty and success. Of the late Professor Joseph H. Thayer of Harvard Divinity School, it was said, “His greatness was the result, not of native ability alone, but of life-long tireless industry.” Addressing his students he once asked, “Do you wish to become great? Remember it means more hours at your desk. The greater you desire to become, the more hours you must work.” Genius is not only the capacity for keeping at it, but taking pains in its accomplishments. Wellington’s military genius was said to have been perfected by encounters with difficulties of apparently the most overwhelming character, yet such trained him to self-reliance, courage and the highest discipline.

A boy once wrote to Henry Ward Beecher soliciting his aid in securing an easy place wherein he might make his mark. Mr. Beecher replied, “You cannot be an editor; do not try the law; do not think of the ministry; let alone all ships, shops and merchandise; abhor politics, don’t practice medicine; be not a farmer nor a mechanic, neither be a soldier nor a sailor; don’t work, don’t study, don’t think. None of these are easy. My son, you have come into a hard world. I know of only one easy place in this world,and that is the grave.”

Indolence is a characteristic of some boys. Some one wrote:

“A boy will hunt and a boy will fish,Or play baseball all day;But a boy won’t think and a boy won’t work,Because he’s not built that way.”

“A boy will hunt and a boy will fish,Or play baseball all day;But a boy won’t think and a boy won’t work,Because he’s not built that way.”

“A boy will hunt and a boy will fish,Or play baseball all day;But a boy won’t think and a boy won’t work,Because he’s not built that way.”

“A boy will hunt and a boy will fish,

Or play baseball all day;

But a boy won’t think and a boy won’t work,

Because he’s not built that way.”

Doubtless this is a gross exaggeration. All boys are not “made that way,” though there are some, who, at the thought—

“—of an errand are as ‘tired as a hound’,Very weary of life and of ‘tramping around’;But if there’s a band or a circus in sight,They’ll follow it gladly from morning till night.If there’s work in the garden, their heads ache to split!And their backs are so lame that they ‘can’t dig a bit’;But mention baseball, and they’re cured very soon,And they’ll dig for a woodchuck the whole afternoon.”

“—of an errand are as ‘tired as a hound’,Very weary of life and of ‘tramping around’;But if there’s a band or a circus in sight,They’ll follow it gladly from morning till night.If there’s work in the garden, their heads ache to split!And their backs are so lame that they ‘can’t dig a bit’;But mention baseball, and they’re cured very soon,And they’ll dig for a woodchuck the whole afternoon.”

“—of an errand are as ‘tired as a hound’,Very weary of life and of ‘tramping around’;But if there’s a band or a circus in sight,They’ll follow it gladly from morning till night.If there’s work in the garden, their heads ache to split!And their backs are so lame that they ‘can’t dig a bit’;But mention baseball, and they’re cured very soon,And they’ll dig for a woodchuck the whole afternoon.”

“—of an errand are as ‘tired as a hound’,

Very weary of life and of ‘tramping around’;

But if there’s a band or a circus in sight,

They’ll follow it gladly from morning till night.

If there’s work in the garden, their heads ache to split!

And their backs are so lame that they ‘can’t dig a bit’;

But mention baseball, and they’re cured very soon,

And they’ll dig for a woodchuck the whole afternoon.”

The father of Daniel and Ezekiel Webster on leaving the home for a short time gave these boys some special work on the farm. On his return he found the labor unperformed, and frowning, demanded, “What have you been doing Ezekiel?” “Nothing, sir,” was the reply. “Well, Daniel, what have you been doing?” “Helping Zeke, sir,” he answered. How many boys are likewise disposed. They care not, and, if they can help it, will not work. They are like

—“a watch that wants both hands,As useless when it goes as when it stands.”

—“a watch that wants both hands,As useless when it goes as when it stands.”

—“a watch that wants both hands,As useless when it goes as when it stands.”

—“a watch that wants both hands,

As useless when it goes as when it stands.”

Idleness has been well expressed by the ancients as “the burial of a living man.” It is “the very rust and canker of the soul, the devil’s cushion, pillow and chief reposal.” The boy who courts it will experience no little personal feeling of disgust in after years. When along in life, he will be able to say with a French beggar, who, while undergoing a long imprisonment, tattooed upon his right arm, “The past has deceived me, the present torments me, the future terrifies me.” Better heed Plato’s advice, “Prefer diligence before idleness, unless you esteem rust above brightness, for idleness is the hour of temptation.”

“Wanted, a well-grown boy who can make himself generally useful. Salary moderate to start with.” Thiswas the advertisement that had called together some twenty-five boys. The merchant talked with one after another until only two remained in the outer office. “Come in, both of you,” called the merchant, “I can tell you what I want and what I’m willing to pay.” Then followed an enumeration of the services expected with the promise of two and a half dollars a week with an increase at the end of each six months. One of the two boys turned on his heel and said, “That settles it! I can’t afford to work for any such wages as that.” “I’ll try it,” said the other, “and if I suit you six months will soon pass. The two-fifty will pay my actual expenses, for I live at home; then when I get to earning more I can help more.” Five years passed. The first boy idled away his time and went from bad to worse. At last he stood in the prisoner’s dock awaiting trial for forgery. What was his astonishment to behold his former friend ranged on the side of the prosecution as junior member of a firm of eminent lawyers. There was no need for argument on either side, for the poor fellow broke down at the sight of his former schoolmate, and rising, said, “I’ll tell the truth and take my punishment. If I’d begun as that young man did five years ago I might have been somebody to-day, but I was above low wages and didn’t believe in small beginnings. Now I am a living example of what pride and indolence can do for a boy.” Satan is sure to find mischief for idle hands, and the only way to keep clear of his work is to be busy at something, pay or no pay.

Industry is one of the pet laws of nature, and as Periander, one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, said, “Nothing is impossible to industry.” It has conquered our American forests, built cities as by magic, improved prairies and valleys until they blossom like the rose, and made our civilization rich with the arts, both liberal and fine. Long before the Indians owned Californiathe gold fields were there. Before Franklin found electricity in the clouds, it was there. Before Marconi discovered the unseen waves of air to carry his messages across the sea, they were there. All that was needed was concentration, careful thinking and earnest, persistent effort to bring them into use.

All great men have had the gift of laboring intensely, continually and determinedly before succeeding, many of whom won their way against heavy odds. Arsaces, who founded the Parthian empire, against which the mighty hosts of Rome long contended in vain, was a mechanic of obscure origin. Andersen, the popular Danish author, was the son of a cobbler, and in his earlier years worked on the bench, doing his literary work on scraps of paper during the moments of rest from his regular duties. Cararra began his life as a drummer boy and driver of cattle, but subsequently rose to the presidency of the Republic of Guatemala. Demosthenes, the Greek orator and “prince of eloquence,” was the son of a blacksmith. In his first attempt at public speaking, he displayed such a weakness of voice, imperfect articulation and awkwardness that he withdrew from the speaker’s platform amidst the hooting and laughter of his hearers. Giotto, one of the founders of Italian art, was a shepherd boy whom Cimabue discovered drawing sheep in the sand with a pointed stone, with such accuracy that he took him as a student. Herschel when a boy, played for balls, and while the dancers were lounging round the room he would go out and take a peep at the heavens through his telescope. It was while doing this that he discovered the Georgium Sidus, which made him famous. Samuel Richardson, the novelist, was a poor bookseller. He sold his books in the front part of the store, while he wrote them in the rear. It was a hard struggle. “My own industry and God’s providence,” said he, “have been my whole reliance.”Lough, the English sculptor, reached success only through self-denial and hard work. He followed the plough by day and modelled by night. At length he went to London and took lodgings in an obscure house in a back street above a grocer’s shop, and there began his statue of Milo. While working on it he went three months without meat. All the coal he used that winter was a bushel and a half. When Peter Coxe found him he was tearing up his shirt and dipping the strips into water to keep the clay moist. At last the statue was finished. The roof had been removed to finish its head. His work was soon noised abroad and sculptors took great interest in it. The Duke of Wellington went to see it and ordered a statue, and the boy who had struggled and suffered so much became the greatest sculptor of England.

James Ferguson, the Scotch astronomer, was very anxious when a boy to understand the mechanism of watches. His father refused to allow him to play with his watch, and so James waited until a stranger called with a watch. “Will you be good enough to tell me what time it is?” asked the boy. The gentleman told him. “Would you be willing that I should look at your watch?” continued James. “Certainly,” replied the gentleman. The boy took the watch eagerly. After examining it for a moment he asked, “What makes that box go round?” “A steel spring,” replied the owner. “How can a steel spring in a box turn it round so as to wind up all the chain?” The gentleman explained the process. “I don’t see through it yet,” answered the boy. “Well, now,” said the visitor, who had become interested, “take a long, thin piece of whale-bone, hold one end of it fast between your thumb and forefinger, and wind it around your finger. It will then attempt to unwind,and if you fix the other end of it to the inside of a small hoop and leave it to itself it will turn the hoop round and round and wind up a thread tied to the outside.” “I see it! I see it!” exclaimed the boy, enthusiastically. “Thank you, very much!” It was not long before he had made a wooden watch, which he enclosed in a case about the size of a teacup. Soon after this he was set to watching sheep by night. Here he took an interest in the stars with as great a zeal as in the watch and ere long became noted as a great astronomer.

Boys of to-day are living in the most enlightened age, when everything is an improvement of the past. Time was when man lived in caves, now in mansions; when he sailed the rivers in dug-outs of trees, now in steamers; when he traveled overland in ox-carts, now on steam cars; when he depended on fire or candle light to banish darkness, now electricity; when he spun cotton and wove it by a crude hand machine, now the spinning jenny and power loom; when he wrote on the bark of a tree with a sharpened iron or stick, now on the finest paper with a typewriter; when he sent messages by swift runners, now by telegraph. He now holds communication with other continents by cable, brings distant worlds near with the telescope, examines a single hair of a fly with the microscope and harnesses the elements of nature in his forward movement. All things are conquered, utilized and perfected by industry. “Fortune,” as one said, “is ever on the side of the industrious, as winds and waves are on the side of the best navigators.” There is no reason why any industrious boy should not reach the pinnacle of success. To do so will doubtless mean struggles, hard thinking, careful planning, but the end pays for all.

My boy, remember there is a place for you in the world. A place honorable, useful, influential, but it demands tireless exertion, steadfastness of purpose, carefulness of detail to reach and hold it. To neglect is to invite suffering in the future. “If I neglect my practice a day,” said Malibran the singer, “I see the difference in my execution; if for two days, my friends see it; and if for a week, all the world knows my failure.”

Don’t wait my lad, for something to “turn up.” “Things,” said Garfield, “don’t turn up in this world until somebody turns them up.” While ninety-nine persons wait for chances that never come, the one hundredth realizing upon his irresistible strength and determination, makes his chance. “Never mind. What is the next thing to be done?” asked young Huxley, when he failed to pass the medical examination on which he thought his future depended. Looking back in after years at his defeat, the great scientist wrote, “It does not matter how many tumbles you have in life, so long as you do not get dirty when you tumble. It is only the people who have to stop and be washed who must lose the race.”

“When I was a boy on my father’s farm in Connecticut,” said Collis P. Huntington,—the man who had a hundred thousand people in his employ, “I worked hard, utilizing every moment, for there was plenty to do. But if I had any spare time I did chores for the neighbors. I never wanted for anything I needed! I always got it. But many buy things they do not need. When I went to New York in 1836 I had quite a sum of money, the result of my savings, judicious investments, and little tradings about the neighborhood.” He had an aim in life, and he worked till he accomplished it. That person who has not a definite purpose cannot expect to succeed. Philip, King of Macedon, lost his eye from a bowshot. When the soldiers picked up theshaft they perceived upon it these words, “To Philip’s eye!” The archer had an aim that accomplished something, and he that has not, cannot.

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