preparations never come up to plain, wholesome food. We feel, in listening to the natural speaker, that he tells us what he knows, what he has seen, felt, or experienced himself, and not what he has read or learned by heart.

I shall never forget the speech of Mr. James Redpath, at a Twilight Club dinner, in which he gave us his recollections and opinions of the great statesmen, editors, and orators whom he had known. While telling us of the simplicity of manner and nobility of character of John Brown, Wendell Phillips, Abraham Lincoln, Horace Greeley, Lloyd Garrison, and others, he himself spoke in an easy, natural, unconventional way, apparently without any effort whatever, and yet with such force and power, that all listened with breathless interest, and you might have heard a pin drop. His description of the life and character of these eloquent men was itself a model of eloquence.

Listen to the way in which the most powerful orator of the day prepares his speeches. Though we do not sympathize with his views, we may learn something from his habits:

"Colonel Ingersoll's method of preparing for a public speech," says a writer in the New York World, "is simple and effective. Many people in the vast audiences who have listened to his flowing eloquence have wondered if his effects were produced entirely upon the spur of the moment, or if his orations were carefully worked up beforehand and then committed to memory. Neither of these theories is entirely correct. Colonel Ingersoll has in his employ a thoroughly efficient stenographer; and when his material for a speech or an extended address is all in hand, he dictates the entire thing

from beginning to end. The stenographer subsequently writes it out upon the type-writer, and it is read over once or twice by Colonel Ingersoll, by which time the thread of the argument is thoroughly fixed in his mind. He then prepares a series of headings of the various points he desires to cover, and when he goes into court or mounts the rostrum he is armed with these headings. He has no need to commit mere words and figures of speech to memory. He has a singular wealth of language in which to clothe his argument, whatever it may be, and his only difficulty is to recall himself to the main track after being led off to one side or the other by the flood of his own eloquence."

I say, therefore, in conclusion, to every young man and woman ambitious of intellectual excellence: Study all you can; learn all you can; see all you can; reflect all you can; practice all you can; do all you can; and then, if you be so disposed, embody your honest thought in some visible form; place it upon paper or upon canvas, draw it, paint it, chisel it, write it, speak it, sing it, build it; express it so that it may be clearly seen, felt, heard, or understood; work out your idea to the best of your ability, whether it be a useful plan or a new invention, a beautiful picture or an epic poem; and if you present your thought in such a clear, strong, telling way that it interests, attracts, and informs those whom you address, you cannot fail to succeed, and your work may be the product of what we call genius.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE LAST WORD-WEALTH-INDEPENDENCE-CONCLUSION.

ONE word more; the last but not the least. I am afraid that you, like so many other young Amer

icans, look upon success as simply "making a fortune." That is the idea most young people have; and they really think this is "the greatest thing in the world." Now, I want you to know that this is a big mistake; and I want you to learn this now, that you may not learn it by sad experience. For the really successful man is not the one who has merely made a fortune, but one who has succeeded in finding his' proper vocation in the world, who has learned how and where to make the best use of his talents, and who has made his life a benefit and a blessing to others, as well as to himself.

I do not say that such a man may not make a fortune; he may, and do the other things as well. Nor do I say that it is not commendable or advisable for a young man to do all in his power to get forward in the world, and gain a footing and a position in life; it is so; but I maintain it is still more advisable, still more important, still more worthy of endeavor, that he should gain an honorable and noble character, that he should develop all his faculties to their fullest ca

pacity, and make his mental and spiritual welfare his chief care; for there are greater things than "making a fortune." "Seek first the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you."

To be successful, it is not at all necessary that you should be rich. The most successful men, in the true sense of the word, are not rich. And one may become rich, yet be far from successful. For he who has not acquired peace of mind, and a conscience void of offense, can never, whatever his other acquisitions, be considered successful. To be truly successful, one must feel and know that he is doing something in the world; that he is performing some useful service, and "lending a hand" to others as well as himself. He will thus acquire strength of character, sound views of life, and a soul above the mere love of wealth and station. There is no success without honor; no happiness without a clear conscience; no use in living, at all, if only for one's self. A million dollars, with a skeleton in the closet," will never give any man satisfaction. No, my young friend, it is not at all necessary for you to "make a fortune "; but it is necessary, absolutely necessary, that you should become a fair-dealing, honorable, useful man, radiating goodness and cheerfulness wherever you go, and making your life a blessing to all those with whom you have any dealings.

"

Mind, I do not despise wealth, nor wish to discourage you from the pursuit of it, to a certain degree; for wealth has its advantages even in point of character,—indeed, I don't think any man can be com

"An

pletely independent in thought, speech, or action, without something like pecuniary independence. empty sack cannot be made to stand upright." But I do wish to disabuse you of the deadly error of thinking that this is the chief thing, or that the acquisition of wealth alone constitutes success. For wealth alone, or the things it brings,—I mean power and position,— will never bring happiness.

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There are thousands of comparatively poor men who are far more successful, far more useful, and far happier, than many of the millionaires who cut such a large figure in the world. Look at Agassiz, who had no time to make money"! What a successful, what a useful, happy, beneficent life he led! "Though dead, he yet speaketh." And look at Prof. Virchowwhat a marvelous amount of good, great work that man did in his day! There is scarcely a human being now living who has not been benefited by the discoveries he has made. And yet he was comparatively a poor man!

Get wealth, my young friend; get position; get honor; get fame; get influence, and high social station, if you will; and let a thousand editors trumpet your name over the length and breadth of the land; but know that all these things will turn to ashes in your grasp, and leave you stranded on a barren desert, if you do not get them in some honorable and useful activity, in some sphere in which you think more of others than of yourself. Save, oh, save, my dear boy, every penny you can; deny yourself every luxury and every extravagance; abstain from every indulgence;