Boys With No Chance

In the blackest soils grow the fairest flowers, and the loftiest and strongest trees spring heavenward among the rocks.—J. G. HOLLAND.

The most beautiful flowers grow in the darkest soil, and the tallest and strongest trees rise toward the sky among the rocks. J. G. HOLLAND.

Poverty is very terrible, and sometimes kills the very soul within us, but it is the north wind that lashes men into Vikings; it is the soft, luscious south wind which lulls them to lotus dreams.—OUIDA.

Poverty is terrible, and sometimes it kills the soul within us. But it is the north wind that drives men to become Vikings. The soft, sweet south wind lulls them into lotus dreams. OUIDA.

Poverty is the sixth sense.—GERMAN PROVERB.

Poverty is the sixth sense. German proverb.

It is not every calamity that is a curse, and early adversity is often a blessing. Surmounted difficulties not only teach, but hearten us in our future struggles.—SHARPE.

Not every disaster is a curse, and hardship early in life is often a blessing. Overcoming difficulties teaches us and gives us courage for future struggles. SHARPE.

There can be no doubt that the captains of industry to-day, using that term in its broadest sense, are men who began life as poor boys.—SETH LOW.

There is no doubt that today’s leaders of industry, in the broadest sense, are men who grew up poor. SETH LOW.

"I am a child of the court," said a pretty little girl at a children's party in Denmark; "my father is Groom of the Chambers, which is a very high office. And those whose names end with 'sen,'" she added, "can never be anything at all. We must put our arms akimbo, and make the elbows quite pointed, so as to keep these 'sen' people at a great distance."

"I am a child of the court," said a pretty little girl at a children's party in Denmark. "My father is Groom of the Chambers, a very high office. And people whose names end in 'sen' can never be anything at all," she added. "We must put our hands on our hips and point our elbows out to keep these 'sen' people far away."

"But my papa can buy a hundred dollars' worth of bonbons, and give them away to children," angrily exclaimed the daughter of the rich merchant Petersen. "Can your papa do that?"

"But my papa can buy a hundred dollars' worth of candy and give it away to children," said the rich merchant Petersen's daughter angrily. "Can your papa do that?"

"Yes," chimed in the daughter of an editor, "my papa can put your papa and everybody's papa into the newspaper. All sorts of people are afraid of him, my papa says, for he can do as he likes with the paper."

"Yes," added the editor's daughter, "my dad can put your dad and everyone's dad in the newspaper. My dad says all kinds of people are afraid of him because he can do whatever he likes with the newspaper."

"Oh, if I could be one of them!" thought a little boy peeping through the crack of the door, by permission of the cook for whom he had been turning the spit. But no, his parents had not even a penny to spare, and his name ended in "sen."

"Oh, if only I could be one of them!" thought a little boy as he peeked through the crack in the door. The cook had given him permission to look. He had been turning the spit for the cook. But no, his parents did not have even a penny to spare, and his name ended in "sen."

Years afterwards when the children of the party had become men and women, some of them went to see a splendid house, filled with all kinds of beautiful and valuable objects. There they met the owner, once the very boy who thought it so great a privilege to peep at them through a crack in the door as they played. He had become the great sculptor Thorwaldsen.

Years later, the children at the party had grown up. Some of them went to see a splendid house filled with beautiful and valuable objects of all kinds. There they met the owner. He was the same boy who had once felt privileged to peek through a crack in the door as they played. He had become the great sculptor Thorwaldsen.

This sketch is adapted from a story by a poor Danish cobbler's son, another whose name did not keep him from becoming famous,—Hans Christian Andersen.

This sketch is adapted from a story by Hans Christian Andersen, a poor Danish cobbler's son. He was another person whose name did not keep him from becoming famous.

"There is no fear of my starving, father," said the deaf boy, Kitto, begging to be taken from the poorhouse and allowed to struggle for an education; "we are in the midst of plenty, and I know how to prevent hunger. The Hottentots subsist a long time on nothing but a little gum; they also, when hungry, tie a ligature around their bodies. Cannot I do so, too? The hedges furnish blackberries and nuts, and the fields, turnips; a hayrick will make an excellent bed."

"There is no danger of my starving, father," said Kitto, a deaf boy. He was begging to leave the poorhouse and be allowed to struggle for an education. "We are surrounded by plenty, and I know how to keep from going hungry. The Hottentots live for a long time on nothing but a little gum. When they are hungry, they also tie a cord around their bodies. Can't I do that too? The hedges provide blackberries and nuts, and the fields provide turnips. A haystack will make an excellent bed."

The poor deaf boy with a drunken father, who was thought capable of nothing better than making shoes as a pauper, became one of the greatest Biblical scholars in the world. His first book was written in the workhouse.

The poor deaf boy had a father who drank heavily. People thought he could do nothing better than make shoes as a pauper. Yet he became one of the greatest Biblical scholars in the world. He wrote his first book in the workhouse.

Creon was a Greek slave, as a writer tells the story in Kate Field's "Washington," but he was also a slave of the Genius of Art. Beauty was his god, and he worshiped it with rapt adoration. It was after the repulse of the great Persian invader, and a law was in force that under penalty of death no one should espouse art except freemen. When the law was enacted he was engaged upon a group for which he hoped some day to receive the commendation of Phidias, the greatest sculptor living, and even the praise of Pericles.

Creon was a Greek slave, according to a writer in Kate Field's "Washington," but he was also a slave to the Genius of Art. Beauty was his god, and he worshiped it with devoted admiration. The great Persian invader had been driven back, and a law was in force allowing only freemen to practice art. Anyone else who practiced art faced the death penalty. When the law was enacted, Creon was working on a group of sculptures. He hoped that one day Phidias, the greatest living sculptor, would commend it, and that even Pericles would praise it.

What was to be done? Into the marble block before him Creon had put his head, his heart, his soul, his life. On his knees, from day to day, he had prayed for fresh inspiration, new skill. He believed, gratefully and proudly, that Apollo, answering his prayers, had directed his hand and had breathed into the figures the life that seemed to animate them; but now,—now, all the gods seemed to have deserted him.

What was he to do? Creon had put his mind, his heart, his soul, and his life into the marble block before him. Day after day, he had knelt and prayed for fresh inspiration and new skill. He believed, with gratitude and pride, that Apollo had answered his prayers and guided his hand. He believed Apollo had breathed into the figures the life that seemed to animate them. But now, all the gods seemed to have abandoned him.

Cleone, his devoted sister, felt the blow as deeply as her brother. "O Aphrodite!" she prayed, "immortal Aphrodite, high enthroned child of Zeus, my queen, my goddess, my patron, at whose shrine I have daily laid my offerings, to be now my friend, the friend of my brother!"

Cleone, his devoted sister, felt the blow as deeply as her brother. "O Aphrodite!" she prayed. "Immortal Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, seated on your high throne, you are my queen, my goddess, and my patron. I have laid offerings at your shrine every day. Please be my friend now, and my brother's friend!"

Then to her brother she said: "O Creon, go to the cellar beneath our house. It is dark, but I will furnish light and food. Continue your work; the gods will befriend us."

Then she said to her brother: "Creon, go to the cellar beneath our house. It is dark, but I will provide light and food. Continue your work. The gods will help us."

To the cellar Creon went, and guarded and attended by his sister, day and night, he proceeded with his glorious but dangerous task.

Creon went to the cellar, where he continued his glorious but dangerous task. His sister guarded and cared for him day and night.

About this time all Greece was invited to Athens to behold an exhibit of works of art. The display took place in the Agora. Pericles presided. At his side was Aspasia. Phidias, Socrates, Sophocles, and other renowned men stood near him.

Around this time, all of Greece was invited to Athens to see an art exhibit. The exhibit took place in the Agora. Pericles presided, with Aspasia at his side. Phidias, Socrates, Sophocles, and other famous men stood near him.

The works of the great masters were there. But one group, far more beautiful than the rest,—a group that Apollo himself must have chiseled,—challenged universal attention, exciting at the same time no little envy among rival artists.

The works of the great masters were there. But one group was far more beautiful than the rest. Apollo himself must have carved it. The group drew everyone's attention and stirred considerable envy among rival artists.

"Who is the sculptor of this group?" None could tell. Heralds repeated the question, but there was no answer. "A mystery, then! Can it be the work of a slave?" Amid great commotion a beautiful maiden with disarranged dress, disheveled hair, a determined expression in her eyes, and with closed lips, was dragged into the Agora. "This woman," cried the officers, "this woman knows the sculptor; we are sure of it; but she will not tell his name."

"Who is the sculptor of this group?" No one could say. Heralds repeated the question, but no one answered. "A mystery, then! Could it be the work of a slave?" Amid great commotion, a beautiful young woman was dragged into the Agora. Her clothes were in disarray, her hair was disheveled, and her lips were closed. There was a determined look in her eyes. "This woman," the officers cried, "this woman knows the sculptor. We are sure of it. But she will not tell us his name."

Cleone was questioned, but was silent. She was informed of the penalty of her conduct, but her lips remained closed. "Then," said Pericles, "the law is imperative, and I am the minister of the law. Take the maid to the dungeon."

Cleone was questioned, but she said nothing. She was told the penalty for her conduct, but she remained silent. "Then," said Pericles, "the law must be obeyed, and I must enforce it. Take the maid to the dungeon."

As he spoke a youth with flowing hair, emaciated, but with black eyes that beamed with the flashing light of genius, rushed forward, and flinging himself before him exclaimed: "O Pericles, forgive and save the maid! She is my sister. I am the culprit. The group is the work of my hands, the hands of a slave."

As he spoke, a young man with flowing hair rushed forward. He was painfully thin, but his black eyes shone with the light of genius. He threw himself before Pericles and cried, "Oh, Pericles, forgive and save the girl! She is my sister. I am the one to blame. The group is the work of my hands, the hands of a slave."

The indignant crowd interrupted him and cried, "To the dungeon, to the dungeon with the slave." "As I live, no!" said Pericles, rising. "Behold that group! Apollo decides by it that there is something higher in Greece than an unjust law. The highest purpose of law should be the development of the beautiful. If Athens lives in the memory and affections of men, it is her devotion to art that will immortalize her. Not to the dungeon, but to my side bring the youth."

The angry crowd interrupted him and shouted, "To the dungeon with the slave! To the dungeon!" "No, not while I live!" said Pericles, standing up. "Look at that group! Through it, Apollo declares that there is something higher in Greece than an unjust law. The highest purpose of law should be to develop beauty. If Athens lives on in people's memories and affections, her devotion to art will make her immortal. Bring the young man to my side, not to the dungeon."

And there, in the presence of the assembled multitude, Aspasia placed the crown of olives, which she held in her hands, on the brow of Creon; and at the same time, amid universal plaudits, she tenderly kissed Creon's affectionate and devoted sister.

There, before the gathered crowd, Aspasia placed the olive crown she held on Creon's head. At the same time, as everyone applauded, she tenderly kissed Creon's loving and devoted sister.

The Athenians erected a statue to Aesop, who was born a slave, that men might know that the way to honor is open to all. In Greece, wealth and immortality were the sure reward of the man who could distinguish himself in art, literature, or war. No other country ever did so much to encourage and inspire struggling merit.

The Athenians put up a statue of Aesop, who was born a slave, to show that honor is open to all. In Greece, wealth and immortality were the sure reward of anyone who excelled in art, literature, or war. No other country ever did so much to encourage and inspire talented people struggling to succeed.

"I was born in poverty," said Vice-President Henry Wilson. "Want sat by my cradle. I know what it is to ask a mother for bread when she has none to give. I left my home at ten years of age, and served an apprenticeship of eleven years, receiving a month's schooling each year, and, at the end of eleven years of hard work, a yoke of oxen and six sheep, which brought me eighty-four dollars. I never spent the sum of one dollar for pleasure, counting every penny from the time I was born till I was twenty-one years of age. I know what it is to travel weary miles and ask my fellow men to give me leave to toil.… In the first month after I was twenty-one years of age, I went into the woods, drove a team, and cut mill-logs. I rose in the morning before daylight and worked hard till after dark, and received the magnificent sum of six dollars for the month's work! Each of these dollars looked as large to me as the moon looks to-night."

"I was born in poverty," said Vice-President Henry Wilson. "Poverty sat beside my cradle. I know what it is to ask my mother for bread when she has none to give. I left home at ten and served an eleven-year apprenticeship. I received one month of schooling each year. At the end of eleven years of hard work, I received a yoke of oxen and six sheep. They sold for eighty-four dollars. I never spent a dollar on pleasure, and I counted every penny from birth until I was twenty-one. I know what it is to travel weary miles and ask other people to let me work.… In the first month after I turned twenty-one, I went into the woods, drove a team, and cut logs for the mill. I got up before daylight and worked hard until after dark. For that month's work, I received the magnificent sum of six dollars! Each dollar looked as large to me as the moon looks tonight."

Mr. Wilson determined never to lose an opportunity for self-culture or self-advancement. Few men knew so well the value of spare moments. He seized them as though they were gold and would not let one pass until he had wrung from it every possibility. He managed to read a thousand good books before he was twenty-one—what a lesson for boys on a farm! When he left the farm he started on foot for Natick, Mass., over one hundred miles distant, to learn the cobbler's trade. He went through Boston that he might see Bunker Hill monument and other historical landmarks. The whole trip cost him but one dollar and six cents. In a year he was the head of a debating club at Natick. Before eight years had passed, he made his great speech against slavery, in the Massachusetts Legislature. Twelve years later he stood shoulder to shoulder with the polished Sumner in Congress. With him, every occasion was a great occasion. He ground every circumstance of his life into material for success.

Mr. Wilson resolved never to miss a chance to improve himself or get ahead. Few men understood the value of spare moments as well as he did. He seized them as if they were gold and made the most of every one. He managed to read a thousand good books before he turned twenty-one. What a lesson for boys on a farm! When he left the farm, he set out on foot for Natick, Mass., more than one hundred miles away. He went there to learn the shoemaker's trade. He passed through Boston so he could see the Bunker Hill monument and other historical landmarks. The whole trip cost him only one dollar and six cents. Within a year, he was the head of a debating club in Natick. Before eight years had passed, he gave his great speech against slavery in the Massachusetts Legislature. Twelve years later, he stood shoulder to shoulder with the polished Sumner in Congress. For him, every occasion was a great occasion. He turned every circumstance in his life into material for success.

"Don't go about the town any longer in that outlandish rig. Let me give you an order on the store. Dress up a little, Horace." Horace Greeley looked down on his clothes as if he had never before noticed how seedy they were, and replied: "You see Mr. Sterrett, my father is on a new place, and I want to help him all I can." He had spent but six dollars for personal expenses in seven months, and was to receive one hundred and thirty-five from Judge J. M. Sterret of the Erie "Gazette" for substitute work. He retained but fifteen dollars and gave the rest to his father, with whom he had moved from Vermont to Western Pennsylvania, and for whom he had camped out many a night to guard the sheep from wolves. He was nearly twenty-one; and, although tall and gawky, with tow-colored hair, a pale face and whining voice, he resolved to seek his fortune in New York City. Slinging his bundle of clothes on a stick over his shoulder, he walked sixty miles through the woods to Buffalo, rode on a canal boat to Albany, descended the Hudson in a barge, and reached New York, just as the sun was rising, August 18, 1831.

"Don't go around town any longer in that strange outfit. Let me give you an order for clothes at the store. Dress up a little, Horace." Horace Greeley looked down at his clothes as if he had never noticed how shabby they were. He replied, "You see, Mr. Sterrett, my father is on a new place, and I want to help him all I can." In seven months, he had spent only six dollars on personal expenses. Judge J. M. Sterret of the Erie "Gazette" was to pay him one hundred and thirty-five dollars for substitute work. Horace kept only fifteen dollars and gave the rest to his father. He and his father had moved from Vermont to Western Pennsylvania. He had often camped out at night to guard his father's sheep from wolves. He was nearly twenty-one and was tall and awkward, with pale blond hair, a pale face, and a whining voice. Even so, he resolved to seek his fortune in New York City. He slung his bundle of clothes on a stick over his shoulder and walked sixty miles through the woods to Buffalo. He took a canal boat to Albany, then traveled down the Hudson in a barge. He reached New York just as the sun was rising on August 18, 1831.

He found board over a saloon at two dollars and a half a week. His journey of six hundred miles had cost him but five dollars. For days Horace wandered up and down the streets, going into scores of buildings and asking if they wanted "a hand"; but "no" was the invariable reply. His quaint appearance led many to think he was an escaped apprentice. One Sunday at his boarding-place he heard that printers were wanted at "West's Printing-office." He was at the door at five o'clock Monday morning, and asked the foreman for a job at seven. The latter had no idea that a country greenhorn could set type for the Polyglot Testament on which help was needed, but said: "Fix up a case for him and we'll see if he can do anything." When the proprietor came in, he objected to the new-comer and told the foreman to let him go when his first day's work was done. That night Horace showed a proof of the largest and most correct day's work that had then been done.

He found room and board above a saloon for two dollars and fifty cents a week. His six-hundred-mile journey had cost him only five dollars. For days, Horace walked up and down the streets. He went into dozens of buildings and asked if they wanted "a hand". But the answer was always "no". His unusual appearance led many people to think he was an apprentice who had run away. One Sunday, at his boardinghouse, he heard that printers were wanted at "West's Printing-office". He was at the door at five o'clock Monday morning. At seven, he asked the foreman for a job. The foreman did not believe that an inexperienced country boy could set type for the Polyglot Testament, the project that needed help. But he said, "Set up a type case for him, and we'll see if he can do anything." When the owner came in, he objected to the newcomer. He told the foreman to let Horace go after his first day's work. That night, Horace showed a proof of his day's work. It was the largest and most accurate day's work that had been done up to that point.

In ten years he was a partner in a small printing-office. He founded the "New Yorker," the best weekly paper in the United States, but it was not profitable. When Harrison was nominated for President in 1840, Greeley started "The Log-Cabin," which reached the then fabulous circulation of ninety thousand. But on this paper at a penny per copy he made no money. His next venture was "The New York Tribune," price one cent. To start it he borrowed a thousand dollars and printed five thousand copies of the first number. It was difficult to give them all away. He began with six hundred subscribers, and increased the list to eleven thousand in six weeks. The demand for the "Tribune" grew faster than new machinery could be obtained to print it. It was a paper whose editor, whatever his mistakes, always tried to be right.

Within ten years, he became a partner in a small printing office. He founded the "New Yorker," the best weekly newspaper in the United States, but it did not make a profit. When Harrison was nominated for President in 1840, Greeley started "The Log-Cabin." Its circulation reached ninety thousand, a fabulous number at the time. But Greeley made no money from the paper, which sold for a penny a copy. His next venture was "The New York Tribune," priced at one cent. To start it, he borrowed a thousand dollars and printed five thousand copies of the first issue. He had trouble giving them all away. He began with six hundred subscribers and increased the list to eleven thousand in six weeks. Demand for the "Tribune" grew faster than he could obtain new machinery to print it. Whatever his mistakes, the paper's editor always tried to be right.

James Gordon Bennett had made a failure of his "New York Courier" in 1825, of the "Globe" in 1832, and of the "Pennsylvanian" a little later, and was only known as a clever writer for the press, who had saved a few hundred dollars by hard labor and strict economy for fourteen years. In 1835 he asked Horace Greeley to join him in starting a new daily paper, the "New York Herald." Greeley declined, but recommended two young printers, who formed partnership with Bennett, and the "Herald" was started on May 6, 1835, with a cash capital to pay expenses for ten days. Bennet hired a small cellar in Wall Street, furnished it with a chair and a desk composed of a plank supported by two barrels; and there, doing all the work except the printing, began the work of making a really great daily newspaper, a thing then unknown in America, as all its predecessors were party organs. Steadily the young man struggled towards his ideal, giving the news, fresh and crisp, from an ever-widening area, until his paper was famous for giving the current history of the world as fully and quickly as any competitor, and often much more thoroughly and far more promptly. Neither labor nor expense was spared in obtaining prompt and reliable information on every topic of general interest. It was an up-hill job, but its completion was finally marked by the opening at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street of the most complete newspaper establishment then known.

James Gordon Bennett had failed with his "New York Courier" in 1825, the "Globe" in 1832, and the "Pennsylvanian" a little later. He was known only as a clever newspaper writer. He had saved a few hundred dollars through fourteen years of hard work and strict economy. In 1835 he asked Horace Greeley to join him in starting a new daily paper, the "New York Herald." Greeley declined, but recommended two young printers, who became Bennett's partners. The "Herald" began on May 6, 1835, with enough cash to pay expenses for ten days. Bennett rented a small cellar on Wall Street. He furnished it with a chair and a desk made from a plank supported by two barrels. There he began the work of creating a truly great daily newspaper, doing everything except the printing himself. America had never had such a newspaper, since all earlier papers had served political parties. The young man worked steadily toward his ideal, providing fresh, crisp news from an ever wider area. His paper became famous for reporting current events around the world as fully and quickly as any competitor. It often reported them much more thoroughly and far more promptly. Bennett spared neither labor nor expense in obtaining prompt, reliable information on every topic of general interest. It was an uphill struggle, but he finally achieved his goal. He opened the most complete newspaper establishment then known at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street.

One of the first things to attract the attention on entering George W. Childs' private office in Philadelphia was this motto, which was the key-note of the success of a boy who started with "no chance": "Nihil sine labore." It was his early ambition to own the "Philadelphia Ledger" and the great building in which it was published; but how could a poor boy working for $2.00 a week ever hope to own such a great paper? However, he had great determination and indomitable energy; and as soon as he had saved a few hundred dollars as a clerk in a bookstore, he began business as a publisher. He made "great hits" in some of the works he published, such as "Kane's Arctic Expedition." He had a keen sense of what would please the public, and there seemed no end to his industry.

One of the first things visitors noticed in George W. Childs' private office in Philadelphia was a motto: "Nihil sine labore." It was the key to the success of a boy who started with "no chance." Early on, he dreamed of owning the "Philadelphia Ledger" and the great building where it was published. But how could a poor boy earning $2.00 a week ever hope to own such a great newspaper? He had great determination and tireless energy. As soon as he had saved a few hundred dollars working as a bookstore clerk, he started a publishing business. Some of the works he published became "great hits," including "Kane's Arctic Expedition." He had a keen sense of what would please the public, and there seemed to be no end to his hard work.

In spite of the fact that the "Ledger" was losing money every day, his friends could not dissuade him from buying it, and in 1864 the dreams of his boyhood found fulfilment. He doubled the subscription price, lowered the advertising rates, to the astonishment of everybody, and the paper entered upon a career of remarkable prosperity, the profits sometimes amounting to over four hundred thousand dollars a year. He always refused to lower the wages of his employees even when every other establishment in Philadelphia was doing so.

Although the "Ledger" was losing money every day, his friends could not persuade him to abandon the purchase. In 1864, his boyhood dreams came true. He doubled the subscription price and lowered advertising rates, astonishing everyone. The paper became remarkably prosperous, with profits sometimes exceeding four hundred thousand dollars a year. He always refused to lower his employees' wages, even when every other establishment in Philadelphia was doing so.

At a banquet in Lyons, nearly a century and a half ago, a discussion arose in regard to the meaning of a painting representing some scene in the mythology or history of Greece. Seeing that the discussion was growing warm, the host turned to one of the waiters and asked him to explain the picture. Greatly to the surprise of the company, the servant gave a clear concise account of the whole subject, so plain and convincing that it at once settled the dispute.

At a banquet in Lyons nearly a century and a half ago, guests began discussing the meaning of a painting. It showed a scene from Greek mythology or history. As the discussion grew heated, the host asked one of the waiters to explain the picture. To everyone’s surprise, the waiter gave a clear, concise account of the subject. His explanation was so clear and convincing that it settled the dispute at once.

"In what school have you studied, Monsieur?" asked one of the guests, addressing the waiter with great respect. "I have studied in many schools, Monseigneur," replied the young servant: "but the school in which I studied longest and learned most is the school of adversity." Well had he profited by poverty's lessons; for, although then but a poor waiter, all Europe soon rang with the fame of the writings of the greatest genius of his age and country, Jean Jacques Rousseau.

"Where did you study, Monsieur?" one of the guests asked the waiter with great respect. "I have studied in many schools, Monseigneur," the young servant replied. "But the school where I studied longest and learned most was the school of adversity." He had learned poverty’s lessons well. Though he was then only a poor waiter, all Europe would soon celebrate his writings. He was Jean Jacques Rousseau, the greatest genius of his age and country.

The smooth sand beach of Lake Erie constituted the foolscap on which, for want of other material, P. R. Spencer, a barefoot boy with no chance, perfected the essential principles of the Spencerian system of penmanship, the most beautiful exposition of graphic art.

The smooth sandy beach of Lake Erie served as paper for P. R. Spencer, who had no other material. A barefoot boy with no opportunities, he used the sand to perfect the essential principles of the Spencerian system of penmanship, the most beautiful expression of graphic art.

For eight years William Cobbett had followed the plow, when he ran away to London, copied law papers for eight or nine months, and then enlisted in an infantry regiment. During his first year of soldier life he subscribed to a circulating library at Chatham, read every book in it, and began to study.

William Cobbett had worked as a plowman for eight years when he ran away to London. He copied legal papers for eight or nine months, then enlisted in an infantry regiment. During his first year as a soldier, he joined a lending library in Chatham. He read every book in the library and began to study.

"I learned grammar when I was a private soldier on the pay of sixpence a day. The edge of my berth, or that of the guard-bed, was my seat to study in; my knapsack was my bookcase; a bit of board lying on my lap was my writing-table, and the task did not demand anything like a year of my life. I had no money to purchase candles or oil; in winter it was rarely that I could get any evening light but that of the fire, and only my turn, even, of that. To buy a pen or a sheet of paper I was compelled to forego some portion of my food, though in a state of half starvation. I had no moment of time that I could call my own, and I had to read and write amidst the talking, laughing, singing, whistling, and bawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless of men, and that, too, in the hours of their freedom from all control. Think not lightly of the farthing I had to give, now and then, for pen, ink, or paper. That farthing was, alas! a great sum to me. I was as tall as I am now, and I had great health and great exercise. The whole of the money not expended for us at market was twopence a week for each man. I remember, and well I may! that upon one occasion I had, after all absolutely necessary expenses, made shift to have a half-penny in reserve, which I had destined for the purpose of a red herring in the morning, but so hungry as to be hardly able to endure life, when I pulled off my clothes at night, I found that I had lost my half-penny. I buried my head in the miserable sheet and rug, and cried like a child."

"I learned grammar while serving as a private soldier, earning sixpence a day. I studied sitting on the edge of my bunk or the guardroom bed. My knapsack was my bookcase, and a board on my lap was my writing desk. The task took me less than a year. I had no money to buy candles or oil. In winter, the fire was rarely anything but my only evening light, and even then I had to take turns using it. To buy a pen or a sheet of paper, I had to give up some food, though I was half-starved. I had no time I could call my own. I had to read and write among at least ten utterly thoughtless men. They talked, laughed, sang, whistled, and shouted during the hours when no one controlled them. Do not think lightly of the farthing I had to spend now and then on a pen, ink, or paper. That farthing was, alas, a great sum to me. I was as tall as I am now, very healthy, and getting plenty of exercise. After our food was bought at the market, each man had only twopence a week left. I remember one occasion, and I have good reason to! After paying all my absolutely necessary expenses, I had managed to save a halfpenny. I planned to buy a red herring with it in the morning. But I was so hungry that I could hardly bear to live. When I took off my clothes that night, I found I had lost my halfpenny. I buried my head in the miserable sheet and blanket and cried like a child."

But Cobbett made even his poverty and hard circumstances serve his all-absorbing passion for knowledge and success. "If I," said he, "under such circumstances could encounter and overcome this task, is there, can there be in the whole world, a youth to find any excuse for its non-performance?"

But Cobbett used even his poverty and difficult circumstances to pursue his all-consuming passion for knowledge and success. He said, "If I could take on and overcome this task under such circumstances, can any young person in the world have an excuse for not doing it?"

Humphrey Davy had but a slender chance to acquire great scientific knowledge, yet he had true mettle in him, and he made even old pans, kettles, and bottles contribute to his success, as he experimented and studied in the attic of the apothecary-store where he worked.

Humphrey Davy had little opportunity to gain extensive scientific knowledge, but he had real determination. He experimented and studied in the attic of the pharmacy where he worked. There, he used even old pans, kettles, and bottles to help him succeed.

"Many a farmer's son," says Thurlow Weed, "has found the best opportunities for mental improvement in his intervals of leisure while tending 'sap-bush.' Such, at any rate, was my own experience. At night you had only to feed the kettles and keep up the fires, the sap having been gathered and the wood cut before dark. During the day we would always lay in a good stock of 'fat-pine,' by the light of which, blazing bright before the sugar-house, I passed many a delightful night in reading. I remember in this way to have a history of the French Revolution, and to have obtained a better and more enduring knowledge of its events and horrors and of the actors in that great national tragedy than I have received from all subsequent reading. I remember, also, how happy I was in being able to borrow the books of a Mr. Keyes, after a two-mile tramp through the snow, shoeless, my feet swaddled in remnants of rag carpet."

"Many a farmer's son," says Thurlow Weed, "has found his best opportunities to learn during his free time tending the 'sap-bush.' That was certainly my own experience. At night, you only had to feed the sap into the kettles and keep the fires going. The sap had been gathered and the wood cut before dark. During the day, we always stocked up on 'fat-pine.' It blazed brightly in front of the sugar-house, and by its light I spent many delightful nights reading. "I remember reading a history of the French Revolution in this way. It gave me a better and more lasting knowledge than all my later reading. I learned about the events and horrors of that great national tragedy and the people involved in it. I also remember how happy I was to borrow books from a Mr. Keyes. To get them, I walked two miles through the snow without shoes, my feet wrapped in scraps of rag carpet."

"May I have a holiday to-morrow, father?" asked Theodore Parker one August afternoon. The poor Lexington millwright looked in surprise at his youngest son, for it was a busy time, but he saw from the boy's earnest face that he had no ordinary object in view, and granted the request. Theodore rose very early the next morning, walked through the dust ten miles to Harvard College, and presented himself for a candidate for admission. He had been unable to attend school regularly since he was eight years old, but he had managed to go three months each winter, and had reviewed his lessons again and again as he followed the plow or worked at other tasks. All his odd moments had been hoarded, too, for reading useful books, which he borrowed. One book he could not borrow, but he felt that he must have it; so on summer mornings he rose long before the sun and picked bushel after bushel of berries, which he sent to Boston, and so got the money to buy that coveted Latin dictionary.

"May I have a day off tomorrow, father?" Theodore Parker asked one August afternoon. His father, a poor Lexington millwright, looked at his youngest son in surprise. It was a busy time, but the boy's earnest face showed that he had no ordinary purpose. So his father granted the request. Theodore rose very early the next morning and walked ten dusty miles to Harvard College. There he applied for admission. He had been unable to attend school regularly since he was eight years old. But he had managed to go for three months each winter. He had also reviewed his lessons again and again while plowing or doing other work. He had saved all his spare moments for reading useful books that he borrowed. There was one book he could not borrow, but he felt he had to have it. So, on summer mornings, he rose long before sunrise and picked bushel after bushel of berries. He sent them to Boston and earned enough money to buy the Latin dictionary he so wanted.

"Well done, my boy!" said the millwright, when his son came home late at night and told of his successful examination; "but, Theodore, I cannot afford to keep you there!" "True, father," said Theodore, "I am not going to stay there; I shall study at home, at odd times, and thus prepare myself for a final examination, which will give me a diploma." He did this; and, by teaching school as he grew older, got money to study for two years at Harvard, where he was graduated with honor. Years after, when, as the trusted friend and adviser of Seward, Chase, Sumner, Garrison, Horace Mann, and Wendell Phillips, his influence for good was felt in the hearts of all his countrymen, it was a pleasure for him to recall his early struggles and triumphs among the rocks and bushes of Lexington.

"Well done, my boy!" said the millwright. His son had come home late at night and told him he had passed the examination. "But, Theodore, I cannot afford to keep you there!" "True, father," said Theodore. "I am not going to stay there. I will study at home whenever I have spare time. That way, I can prepare for a final examination that will give me a diploma." He did just that. As he grew older, he earned money by teaching school. This allowed him to study at Harvard for two years, and he graduated with honors. Years later, he became the trusted friend and adviser of Seward, Chase, Sumner, Garrison, Horace Mann, and Wendell Phillips. His good influence was felt in the hearts of all his countrymen. It gave him pleasure to remember his early struggles and triumphs among the rocks and bushes of Lexington.

"The proudest moment of my life," said Elihu Burritt, "was when I had first gained the full meaning of the first fifteen lines of Homer's Iliad." Elihu Burritt's father died when he was sixteen, and Elihu was apprenticed to a blacksmith in his native village of New Britain, Conn. He had to work at the forge for ten or twelve hours a day; but while blowing the bellows, he would solve mentally difficult problems in arithmetic. In a diary kept at Worcester, whither he went some ten years later to enjoy its library privileges, are such entries as these,—"Monday, June 18, headache, 40 pages Cuvier's 'Theory of the Earth,' 64 pages French, 11 hours' forging. Tuesday, June 19, 60 lines Hebrew, 30 Danish, 10 lines Bohemian, 9 lines Polish, 15 names of stars, 10 hours' forging. Wednesday, June 20, 25 lines Hebrew, 8 lines Syriac, 11 hours' forging." He mastered 18 languages and 32 dialects. He became eminent as the "Learned Blacksmith," and for his noble work in the service of humanity. Edward Everett said of the manner in which this boy with no chance acquired great learning: "It is enough to make one who has good opportunities for education hang his head in shame."

"The proudest moment of my life," said Elihu Burritt, "was when I first understood the full meaning of the first fifteen lines of Homer's Iliad." Elihu Burritt's father died when Elihu was sixteen. Elihu was then apprenticed to a blacksmith in his hometown of New Britain, Connecticut. He had to work at the forge for ten or twelve hours a day. But while operating the bellows, he solved difficult arithmetic problems in his head. About ten years later, he went to Worcester to use its libraries. His diary from that time includes entries like these: "Monday, June 18, headache, 40 pages of Cuvier's 'Theory of the Earth,' 64 pages of French, 11 hours at the forge. Tuesday, June 19, 60 lines of Hebrew, 30 of Danish, 10 lines of Bohemian, 9 lines of Polish, 15 names of stars, 10 hours at the forge. Wednesday, June 20, 25 lines of Hebrew, 8 lines of Syriac, 11 hours at the forge." He mastered 18 languages and 32 dialects. He became famous as the "Learned Blacksmith" and for his noble work in the service of humanity. Edward Everett spoke of how this boy with no opportunities gained such great learning: "It is enough to make someone with good educational opportunities hang his head in shame."

The barefoot Christine Nilsson in remote Sweden had little chance, but she won the admiration of the world for her wondrous power of song, combined with rare womanly grace.

Barefoot in remote Sweden, Christine Nilsson had little chance. But she won the world's admiration for her wonderful singing and rare feminine grace.

"Let me say in regard to your adverse worldly circumstances," says Dr. Talmage to young men, "that you are on a level now with those who are finally to succeed. Mark my words, and think of it thirty years from now. You will find that those who are then the millionaires of this country, who are the orators of the country, who are the poets of the country, who are the strong merchants of the country, who are the great philanthropists of the country,—mightiest in the church and state,—are now on a level with you, not an inch above you, and in straightened circumstances.

“Let me say something about your difficult financial circumstances,” Dr. Talmage tells young men. “You are now on the same level as those who will eventually succeed. Mark my words, and think about them thirty years from now. You will find that the country’s millionaires, speakers, poets, leading merchants, and great philanthropists are on the same level as you now. Those who will be most powerful in church and state are not an inch above you. They too are struggling financially.

"No outfit, no capital to start with? Young man, go down to the library and get some books, and read of what wonderful mechanism God gave you in your hand, in your foot, in your eye, in your ear, and then ask some doctor to take you into the dissecting-room and illustrate to you what you have read about, and never again commit the blasphemy of saying you have no capital to start with. Equipped? Why, the poorest young man is equipped as only the God of the whole universe could afford to equip him."

“No equipment, no capital to start with? Young man, go to the library and get some books. Read about the wonderful mechanisms God gave you in your hand, foot, eye, and ear. Then ask a doctor to take you into the dissection room and show you what you have read about. Never again commit the blasphemy of saying you have no capital to start with. Equipped? Why, even the poorest young man is equipped as only the God of the whole universe could afford to equip him.”

A newsboy is not a very promising candidate for success or honors in any line of life. A young man can't set out in life with much less chance than when he starts his "daily" for a living. Yet the man who more than any other is responsible for the industrial regeneration of this continent started in life as a newsboy on the Grand Trunk Railway. Thomas Alva Edison was then about fifteen years of age. He had already begun to dabble in chemistry, and had fitted up a small itinerant laboratory. One day, as he was performing some occult experiment, the train rounded a curve, and the bottle of sulphuric acid broke. There followed a series of unearthly odors and unnatural complications. The conductor, who had suffered long and patiently, promptly ejected the youthful devotee, and in the process of the scientist's expulsion added a resounding box upon the ear.

A newsboy does not seem likely to succeed or earn honors in any field. A young man could hardly have fewer chances in life than when he begins selling his "daily" for a living. Yet the man most responsible for the industrial revival of this continent started as a newsboy on the Grand Trunk Railway. Thomas Alva Edison was about fifteen at the time. He had already begun experimenting with chemistry and had set up a small traveling laboratory. One day, he was conducting some mysterious experiment when the train rounded a curve. A bottle of sulfuric acid broke. Strange smells and unnatural complications followed. The conductor had put up with him long and patiently, but now he promptly threw the young enthusiast off the train. As he did so, he gave the young scientist a ringing slap on the ear.

Edison passed through one dramatic situation after another—always mastering it—until he attained at an early age the scientific throne of the world. When recently asked the secret of his success, he said he had always been a total abstainer and singularly moderate in everything but work.

Edison faced one dramatic situation after another and overcame them all. At an early age, he reached the top of the scientific world. Recently, when asked the secret of his success, he said he had always abstained from alcohol. He was also unusually moderate in everything except work.

Daniel Manning who was President Cleveland's first campaign manager and afterwards Secretary of the Treasury, started out as a newsboy with apparently the world against him. So did Thurlow Weed; so did David B. Hill. New York seems to have been prolific in enterprising newsboys.

Daniel Manning started out as a newsboy, seemingly with the world against him. He became President Cleveland's first campaign manager and later Secretary of the Treasury. Thurlow Weed and David B. Hill also started out as newsboys with the world against them. New York seems to have produced many enterprising newsboys.

What nonsense for two uneducated and unknown youths who met in a cheap boarding-house in Boston to array themselves against an institution whose roots were embedded in the very constitution of our country, and which was upheld by scholars, statesmen, churches, wealth, and aristocracy, without distinction of creed or politics! What chance had they against the prejudices and sentiment of a nation? But these young men were fired by a lofty purpose, and they were thoroughly in earnest. One of them, Benjamin Lundy, had already started in Ohio a paper called "The Genius of Universal Liberty," and had carried the entire edition home on his back from the printing-office, twenty miles, every month. He had walked four hundred miles on his way to Tennessee to increase his subscription list. He was no ordinary young man.

What nonsense for two uneducated, unknown young men, who met in a cheap Boston boarding house, to oppose such an institution! Its roots were embedded in the very constitution of our country. Scholars, statesmen, churches, the wealthy, and the aristocracy supported it, regardless of creed or politics. What chance did the two young men have against the prejudices and feelings of a nation? But they were inspired by a lofty purpose, and they were completely serious. One of them, Benjamin Lundy, had already started a newspaper in Ohio called "The Genius of Universal Liberty." Every month, he had carried the entire edition home on his back from the printing office, twenty miles away. He had walked four hundred miles on his way to Tennessee to find more subscribers. He was no ordinary young man.

With William Lloyd Garrison, he started to prosecute his work more earnestly in Baltimore. The sight of the slave-pens along the principal streets; of vessel-loads of unfortunates torn from home and family and sent to Southern ports; the heartrending scenes at the auction blocks, made an impression on Garrison never to be forgotten; and the young man whose mother was too poor to send him to school, although she early taught him to hate oppression, resolved to devote his life to secure the freedom of these poor wretches.

With William Lloyd Garrison, he began to pursue his work more earnestly in Baltimore. Garrison saw slave-pens along the main streets. He saw ships carrying people torn from their homes and families to Southern ports. He witnessed heartbreaking scenes at the auction blocks. These sights made an impression on him that he would never forget. Garrison's mother was too poor to send him to school, but she taught him early to hate oppression. The young man resolved to devote his life to securing freedom for these poor people.

In the first issue of his paper, Garrison urged an immediate emancipation, and called down upon his head the wrath of the entire community. He was arrested and sent to jail. John G. Whittier, a noble friend in the North, was so touched at the news that, being too poor to furnish the money himself, he wrote to Henry Clay, begging him to release Garrison by paying the fine. After forty-nine days of imprisonment he was set free. Wendell Phillips said of him, "He was imprisoned for his opinion when he was twenty-four. He had confronted a nation in the bloom of his youth."

In the first issue of his paper, Garrison called for immediate emancipation and brought the anger of the entire community upon himself. He was arrested and sent to jail. John G. Whittier, a noble friend in the North, was deeply moved by the news. He was too poor to pay the fine himself, so he wrote to Henry Clay, begging him to pay it and secure Garrison's release. After forty-nine days in prison, Garrison was set free. Wendell Phillips said of him, "He was imprisoned for his opinion when he was twenty-four. He had confronted a nation in the bloom of his youth."

In Boston, with no money, friends, or influence, in a little upstairs room, Garrison started the "Liberator." Read the declaration of this poor young man with "no chance," in the very first issue: "I will be as harsh as truth, as uncompromising as justice. I am in earnest. I will not equivocate, I will not excuse; I will not retreat a single inch, and I will be heard." What audacity for a young man, with the world against him!

In Boston, Garrison started the "Liberator" in a small upstairs room. He had no money, friends, or influence. Read what this poor young man with "no chance" declared in the very first issue: "I will be as harsh as truth, as uncompromising as justice. I am serious. I will not dodge the truth. I will not make excuses. I will not retreat a single inch, and I will be heard." What boldness for a young man with the world against him!

Hon. Robert Y. Hayne, of South Carolina, wrote to Otis, mayor of Boston, that some one had sent him a copy of the "Liberator," and asked him to ascertain the name of the publisher. Otis replied that he had found a poor young man printing "this insignificant sheet in an obscure hole, his only auxiliary a negro boy, his supporters a few persons of all colors and little influence."

Hon. Robert Y. Hayne of South Carolina wrote to Otis, the mayor of Boston. Hayne said someone had sent him a copy of the "Liberator" and asked Otis to find out the publisher's name. Otis replied that he had found a poor young man printing "this insignificant paper in an obscure hole, with only a negro boy to help him, and a few supporters of all colors and little influence."

But this poor young man, eating, sleeping, and printing in this "obscure hole," had set the world to thinking, and must be suppressed. The Vigilance Association of South Carolina offered a reward of fifteen hundred dollars for the arrest and prosecution of any one detected circulating the "Liberator." The Governors of one or two States set a price on the editor's head. The legislature of Georgia offered a reward of five thousand dollars for his arrest and conviction.

But this poor young man, eating, sleeping, and printing in this "obscure hole," had made the world think. And he had to be silenced. The Vigilance Association of South Carolina offered a reward of fifteen hundred dollars for the arrest and prosecution of anyone caught circulating the "Liberator." The governors of one or two states put a price on the editor's head. The legislature of Georgia offered a reward of five thousand dollars for his arrest and conviction.

Garrison and his coadjutors were denounced everywhere. A clergyman named Lovejoy was killed by a mob in Illinois for espousing the cause, while defending his printing-press, and in the old "Cradle of American Liberty" the wealth, power, and culture of Massachusetts arrayed itself against the "Abolitionists" so outrageously, that a mere spectator, a young lawyer of great promise, asked to be lifted upon the high platform, and replied in such a speech as was never before heard in Faneuil Hall. "When I heard the gentleman lay down the principles which place the murderers of Lovejoy at Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and Adams," said Wendell Phillips, pointing to their portraits on the walls. "I thought those pictured lips would have broken into voice to rebuke the recreant American, the slanderer of the dead. For the sentiments that he has uttered, on soil consecrated by the prayers of the Puritans and the blood of patriots. the earth should have yawned and swallowed him up."

Garrison and his fellow workers were condemned everywhere. In Illinois, a mob killed a clergyman named Lovejoy as he defended his printing press. He had supported the cause. In the old "Cradle of American Liberty," the wealth, power, and culture of Massachusetts turned against the "Abolitionists." Their opposition was so outrageous that a young lawyer of great promise, who was merely watching, asked to be lifted onto the high platform. He responded with a speech unlike any ever heard before in Faneuil Hall. "I heard the gentleman state principles that put Lovejoy's murderers at Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and Adams," said Wendell Phillips, pointing to their portraits on the walls. "I thought those painted lips would speak out to condemn the unfaithful American who slandered the dead. He spoke on soil made sacred by the prayers of the Puritans and the blood of patriots. For the views he expressed there, the earth should have opened up and swallowed him."

The whole nation was wrought to fever heat.

The whole nation was stirred into a frenzy.

Between the Northern pioneers and Southern chivalry the struggle was long and fierce, even in far California. The drama culminated in the shock of civil war. When the war was ended, and, after thirty-five years of untiring, heroic conflict, Garrison was invited as the nation's guest, by President Lincoln, to see the stars and stripes unfurled once more above Fort Sumter, an emancipated slave delivered the address of welcome, and his two daughters, no longer chattels in appreciation presented Garrison with a beautiful wreath of flowers.

The struggle between Northern pioneers and Southern chivalry was long and fierce, even in faraway California. It culminated in the shock of civil war. When the war ended, Garrison had fought tirelessly and heroically for thirty-five years. President Lincoln invited him as the nation's guest to see the stars and stripes raised again over Fort Sumter. An emancipated slave gave the address of welcome. His two daughters, no longer property, presented Garrison with a beautiful wreath of flowers in gratitude.

About this time Richard Cobden, another powerful friend of the oppressed, died in London.

Around this time, Richard Cobden, another powerful friend of the oppressed, died in London.

His father had died leaving nine children almost penniless. The boy earned his living by watching a neighbor's sheep, but had no chance to attend school until he was ten years old. He was sent to a boarding-school, where he was abused, half starved, and allowed to write home only once in three months. At fifteen he entered his uncle's store in London as a clerk. He learned French by rising early and studying while his companions slept. He was soon sent out in a gig as a commercial traveler.

His father died, leaving nine children with almost no money. The boy earned a living watching a neighbor’s sheep, but he could not attend school until he was ten. He was sent to a boarding school, where he was abused and half starved. He was allowed to write home only once every three months. At fifteen, he became a clerk in his uncle’s store in London. He learned French by getting up early and studying while his companions slept. Soon he was sent out in a horse-drawn carriage as a traveling salesman.

He called upon John Bright to enlist his aid in fighting the terrible "Corn-Laws" which were taking bread from the poor and giving it to the rich. He found Mr. Bright in great grief, for his wife was lying dead in the house.

He went to John Bright to ask for his help in fighting the terrible "Corn Laws." These laws were taking bread from the poor and giving it to the rich. He found Mr. Bright deep in grief, because his wife lay dead in the house.

"There are thousands of homes in England at this moment," said Richard Cobden, "where wives, mothers, and children are dying of hunger. Now, when the first paroxysm of grief is passed, I would advise you to come with me, and we will never rest until the Corn-Laws are repealed." Cobden could no longer see the poor man's bread stopped at the Custom-House and taxed for the benefit of the landlord and farmer, and he threw his whole soul into this great reform. "This is not a party question," said he, "for men of all parties are united upon it. It is a pantry question,—a question between the working millions and the aristocracy." They formed the "Anti-Corn-Law League," which, aided by the Irish famine,—for it was hunger that at last ate through those stone walls of protection,—secured the repeal of the law in 1846. Mr. Bright said: "There is not in Great Britain a poor man's home that has not a bigger, better, and cheaper loaf through Richard Cobden's labors."

"There are thousands of homes in England right now," said Richard Cobden, "where wives, mothers, and children are starving to death. Once the first wave of grief has passed, I urge you to join me. We will never rest until the Corn Laws are repealed." Cobden could no longer bear to see the poor man's bread stopped at the customs house and taxed to benefit landlords and farmers. He devoted himself completely to this great reform. "This is not a party question," he said, "because men of all parties are united on it. It is a question of food, a question between the working millions and the aristocracy." They formed the "Anti-Corn-Law League." With help from the Irish famine, the League secured the law's repeal in 1846. It was hunger that finally ate through those stone walls of protection. Mr. Bright said: "There is not a poor man's home in Great Britain without a bigger, better, and cheaper loaf thanks to Richard Cobden's work."

John Bright himself was the son of a poor working man, and in those days the doors of the higher schools were closed to such as he; but the great Quaker heart of this resolute youth was touched with pity for the millions of England's and Ireland's poor, starving under the Corn-Laws. During the frightful famine, which cut off two millions of Ireland's population in a year, John Bright was more powerful than all the nobility of England. The whole aristocracy trembled before his invincible logic, his mighty eloquence, and his commanding character. Except possibly Cobden, no other man did so much to give the laborer a shorter day, a cheaper loaf, an added shilling.

John Bright himself was the son of a poor working man. In those days, the doors of higher schools were closed to people like him. But this determined young Quaker had a great heart. He felt pity for the millions of poor people in England and Ireland who were starving under the Corn Laws. During the terrible famine, which killed two million people in Ireland in one year, John Bright was more powerful than all the nobility of England. The entire aristocracy trembled before his unbeatable logic, powerful eloquence, and commanding character. With the possible exception of Cobden, no other man did so much to give workers shorter days, cheaper bread, and an extra shilling.

Over a stable in London lived a poor boy named Michael Faraday, who carried newspapers about the streets to loan to customers for a penny apiece. He was apprenticed for seven years to a bookbinder and bookseller. When binding the Encyclopaedia Britannica, his eyes caught the article on electricity, and he could not rest until he had read it. He procured a glass vial, an old pan, and a few simple articles, and began to experiment. A customer became interested in the boy, and took him to hear Sir Humphry Davy lecture on chemistry. He summoned courage to write the great scientist and sent the notes he had taken of his lecture. One night, not long after, just as Michael was about to retire, Sir Humphry Davy's carriage stopped at his humble lodging, and a servant handed him a written invitation to call upon the great lecturer the next morning. Michael could scarcely trust his eyes as he read the note. In the morning he called as requested, and was engaged to clean instruments and take them to and from the lecture-room. He watched eagerly every movement of Davy, as with a glass mask over his face, he developed his safety-lamp and experimented with dangerous explosives. Michael studied and experimented, too, and it was not long before this poor boy with no chance was invited to lecture before the great philosophical society.

A poor boy named Michael Faraday lived above a stable in London. He carried newspapers through the streets, lending them to customers for a penny apiece. He was apprenticed to a bookbinder and bookseller for seven years. While binding the Encyclopaedia Britannica, he noticed the article on electricity. He could not rest until he had read it. He found a glass vial, an old pan, and a few simple objects and began to experiment. A customer took an interest in the boy and took him to hear Sir Humphry Davy lecture on chemistry. Michael gathered the courage to write to the great scientist and send him his notes from the lecture. Not long afterward, Sir Humphry Davy’s carriage stopped at Michael’s modest home one night, just as he was about to go to bed. A servant handed him a written invitation to visit the great lecturer the next morning. Michael could hardly believe his eyes as he read the note. The next morning, Michael visited Davy as requested. He was hired to clean instruments and carry them to and from the lecture room. He eagerly watched Davy’s every move as the scientist wore a glass mask, developed his safety lamp, and experimented with dangerous explosives. Michael studied and experimented, too. Before long, this poor boy who had no chance was invited to lecture before the great philosophical society.

He was appointed professor at the Royal Academy of Woolwich, and became the wonder of the age in science. Tyndall said of him, "He is the greatest experimental philosopher the world has ever seen." When Sir Humphry Davy was asked what was his greatest discovery, he replied "Michael Faraday."

He was appointed professor at the Royal Academy of Woolwich and became a scientific wonder of his age. Tyndall said of him, "He is the greatest experimental scientist the world has ever seen." When Sir Humphry Davy was asked about his greatest discovery, he replied, "Michael Faraday."

"What has been done can be done again," said the boy with no chance, Disraeli, who become Lord Beaconsfield, England's great Prime Minister. "I am not a slave, I am not a captive, and by energy I can overcome greater obstacles." Jewish blood flowed in his veins and everything seemed against him, but he remembered the example of Joseph, who became Prime Minister of Egypt four thousand years before, and that of Daniel, who was Prime Minister to the greatest despot of the world five centuries before the birth of Christ. He pushed his way up through the lower classes, up through the middle classes, up through the upper classes, until he stood a master, self-poised upon the topmost round of political and social power. Rebuffed, scorned, ridiculed, hissed down in the House of Commons, he simply said, "The time will come when you will hear me." The time did come, and the boy with no chance but a determined will swayed the scepter of England for a quarter of a century.

"What has been done can be done again," said Disraeli, the boy with no chance. He became Lord Beaconsfield, England's great Prime Minister. "I am not a slave, I am not a captive, and through energy I can overcome greater obstacles." Jewish blood flowed in his veins, and everything seemed to be against him. But he remembered Joseph, who became Prime Minister of Egypt four thousand years earlier. He also remembered Daniel, who was Prime Minister to the world's greatest despot five centuries before Christ's birth. He worked his way up through the lower, middle, and upper classes. At last, he stood in command, confident and composed at the very height of political and social power. In the House of Commons, he was rebuffed, scorned, ridiculed, and hissed down. He simply said, "The time will come when you will hear me." That time did come. The boy with no chance but a determined will wielded England's power for a quarter of a century.

Henry Clay, the "mill-boy of the slashes," was one of seven children of a widow too poor to send him to any but a common country school, where he was drilled only in the "three R's." But he used every spare moment to study without a teacher, and in after years he was a king among self-made men. The boy who had learned to speak in a barn, with only a cow and a horse for an audience, became one of the greatest of American orators and statesmen.

Henry Clay, the "mill-boy of the slashes," was one of seven children. His widowed mother could afford to send him only to a local country school. There, he learned only the "three R's." But he spent every spare moment studying on his own. In later years, he stood among the greatest self-made men. As a boy, he had learned to speak in a barn, with only a cow and a horse for an audience. He became one of America's greatest speakers and statesmen.

See Kepler struggling with poverty and hardship, his books burned in public by order of the state, his library locked up by the Jesuits, and himself exiled by public clamor. For seventeen years he works calmly upon the demonstration of the great principles that planets revolve in ellipses, with the sun at one focus; that a line connecting the center of the earth with the center of the sun passes over equal spaces in equal times, and that the squares of the times of revolution of the planets above the sun are proportioned to the cubes by their mean distances from the sun. This boy with no chance became one of the world's greatest astronomers.

See Kepler struggling with poverty and hardship. The state ordered his books burned in public, the Jesuits locked up his library, and public outcry drove him into exile. For seventeen years, he worked calmly to prove several great principles. Planets revolve in ellipses, with the sun at one focus. A line connecting the centers of the earth and the sun sweeps over equal areas in equal times. The squares of the planets’ periods of revolution around the sun are proportional to the cubes of their mean distances from the sun. This boy, who had no chance, became one of the world’s greatest astronomers.

"When I found that I was black," said Alexandre Dumas, "I resolved to live as if I were white, and so force men to look below my skin."

"When I realized I was black," said Alexandre Dumas, "I decided to live as if I were white, so men would be forced to look beyond my skin."

How slender seemed the chance of James Sharples, the celebrated blacksmith artist of England! He was very poor, but he often rose at three o'clock to copy books he could not buy. He would walk eighteen miles to Manchester and back after a hard day's work to buy a shilling's worth of artist's materials. He would ask for the heaviest work in the blacksmith shop, because it took a longer time to heat at the forge, and he could thus have many spare minutes to study the precious book, which he propped up against the chimney. He was a great miser of spare moments and used every one as though he might never see another. He devoted his leisure hours for five years to that wonderful production, "The Forge," copies of which are to be seen in many a home.

How slim the chances of success seemed for James Sharples, England's celebrated blacksmith artist! He was very poor, but he often got up at three in the morning to copy books he could not afford. After a hard day's work, he would walk eighteen miles to Manchester and back to buy a shilling's worth of art supplies. He asked for the heaviest work in the blacksmith shop because it took longer to heat in the forge. That gave him many spare minutes to study his precious book, which he propped against the chimney. He carefully saved his spare moments and used each one as if he might never have another. For five years, he devoted his leisure hours to creating the wonderful work "The Forge," copies of which can be seen in many homes.

What chance had Galileo to win renown in physics or astronomy, when his parents compelled him to go to a medical school? Yet while Venice slept, he stood in the tower of St. Mark's Cathedral and discovered the satellites of Jupiter and the phases of Venus, through a telescope made with his own hands. When compelled on bended knee to publicly renounce his heretical doctrine that the earth moves around the sun, all the terrors of the Inquisition could not keep this feeble man of threescore years and ten from muttering to himself, "Yet it does move." When thrown into prison, so great was his eagerness for scientific research that he proved by a straws in his cell that a hollow tube is relatively much stronger than a solid rod of the same size. Even when totally blind, he kept constantly at work.

What chance did Galileo have to become famous in physics or astronomy when his parents forced him to attend medical school? Yet while Venice slept, he stood in the tower of St. Mark's Cathedral. There, using a telescope he had made himself, he discovered Jupiter's satellites and the phases of Venus. He was forced to kneel and publicly renounce his heretical belief that the earth moves around the sun. But all the terrors of the Inquisition could not stop this frail, seventy-year-old man from muttering to himself, "Yet it does move." When he was thrown into prison, he was still eager to pursue scientific research. Using straws in his cell, he proved that a hollow tube is much stronger than a solid rod of the same size. Even when he was totally blind, he kept working constantly.

Imagine the surprise of the Royal Society of England when the poor unknown Herschel sent in the report of his discovery of the star Georgium Sidus, its orbit and rate of motion; and of the rings and satellites of Saturn. The boy with no chance, who had played the oboe for his meals, had with his own hands made the telescope through which he discovered facts unknown to the best-equipped astronomers of his day. He had ground two hundred specula before he could get one perfect.

Imagine the surprise of the Royal Society of England when the poor, unknown Herschel sent in his report. He had discovered the star Georgium Sidus, its orbit and rate of motion, and the rings and satellites of Saturn. As a boy with no opportunities, he had played the oboe for his meals. Yet he had made the telescope with his own hands. Through it, he discovered facts unknown to the best-equipped astronomers of his day. He had ground two hundred telescope mirrors before he could make one perfect.

George Stephenson was one of eight children whose parents were so poor that all lived in a single room. George had to watch cows for a neighbor, but he managed to get time to make engines of clay, with hemlock sticks for pipes. At seventeen he had charge of an engine, with his father for fireman. He could neither read nor write, but the engine was his teacher, and he a faithful student. While the other hands were playing games or loafing in liquor shops during the holidays, George was taking his machine to pieces, cleaning it, studying it, and making experiments in engines. When he had become famous as a great inventor of improvements in engines, those who had loafed and played called him lucky.

George Stephenson was one of eight children. His parents were so poor that the whole family lived in one room. George had to watch cows for a neighbor, but he found time to make clay engines with hemlock sticks for pipes. At seventeen, he was in charge of an engine, with his father tending its fire. George could neither read nor write, but the engine was his teacher, and he was a faithful student. During holidays, the other workers played games or hung around drinking establishments. George, meanwhile, took his machine apart, cleaned and studied it, and experimented with engines. He became famous as a great inventor of improvements to engines. Then the men who had loafed and played called him lucky.

Without a charm of face or figure, Charlotte Cushman resolved to place herself in the front rank as an actress, even in such characters as Rosalind and Queen Katherine. The star actress was unable to perform, and Miss Cushman, her understudy, took her place. That night she held her audience with such grasp of intellect and iron will that it forgot the absence of mere dimpled feminine grace. Although poor, friendless, and unknown before, when the curtain fell upon her first performance at the London theater, her reputation was made. In after years, when physicians told her she had a terrible, incurable disease, she flinched not a particle, but quietly said, "I have learned to live with my trouble."

Although she had neither a charming face nor figure, Charlotte Cushman resolved to become a leading actress. She aimed to excel even in roles such as Rosalind and Queen Katherine. When the star actress could not perform, Miss Cushman, her understudy, took her place. That night, she held the audience with such intelligence and iron will that it forgot her lack of dimpled feminine grace. Before then, she had been poor, friendless, and unknown. But when the curtain fell on her first performance at the London theater, her reputation was made. Years later, doctors told her she had a terrible, incurable disease. She did not flinch at all, but quietly said, "I have learned to live with my trouble."

A poor colored woman in a log-cabin in the South had three boys, but could afford only one pair of trousers for the three. She was so anxious to give them an education that she sent them to school by turns. The teacher, a Northern girl, noticed that each boy came to school only one day out of three, and that all wore the same pantaloons. The poor mother educated her boys as best she could. One became a professor in a Southern college, another a physician, and the third a clergyman. What a lesson for boys who plead "no chance" as an excuse for wasted lives!

A poor colored woman lived in a log cabin in the South with her three boys. She could afford only one pair of trousers for them to share. She was so eager to give them an education that she sent them to school in turns. Their teacher, a girl from the North, noticed that each boy came to school only once every three days. She also noticed that they all wore the same trousers. The poor mother educated her boys as best she could. One became a professor at a Southern college, another a doctor, and the third a clergyman. What a lesson for boys who use "no chance" as an excuse for wasted lives!

Sam Cunard, the whittling Scotch lad of Glasgow, wrought many odd inventions with brain and jack-knife, but they brought neither honor nor profit until he was consulted by Burns & McIvor, who wished to increase their facilities for carrying foreign mails. The model of a steamship which Sam whittled out for them was carefully copied for the first vessel of the great Cunard Line, and became the standard type for all the magnificent ships since constructed by the firm.

Sam Cunard, a Scottish boy from Glasgow, used his ingenuity and pocketknife to create many unusual inventions. But they brought him neither honor nor profit until Burns & McIvor consulted him. The firm wanted to expand its capacity to carry foreign mail. Sam carved a model steamship for them, and it was carefully copied for the first vessel of the great Cunard Line. The model became the standard design for all the magnificent ships the firm has built since.

The new Testament and the speller were Cornelius Vanderbilt's only books at school, but he learned to read, write, and cipher a little. He wished to buy a boat, but had no money. To discourage him from following the sea, his mother told him if he would plow, harrow, and plant with corn, before the twenty-seventh day of the month, ten acres of rough, hard, stony land, the worst on his father's farm, she would lend him the amount he wished. Before the appointed time the work was done, and well done. On his seventeenth birthday he bought the boat, but on his way home it struck a sunken wreck and sank just as he reached shallow water.

The New Testament and a spelling book were Cornelius Vanderbilt's only books at school. But he learned to read, write, and do a little arithmetic. He wanted to buy a boat, but he had no money. His mother wanted to discourage him from going to sea. She told him she would lend him the money if he completed a task before the twenty-seventh of the month. He had to plow, harrow, and plant corn on ten acres of rough, hard, stony land. It was the worst land on his father's farm. He finished the work before the deadline and did it well. On his seventeenth birthday, he bought the boat. But on his way home, it struck a sunken wreck. It sank just as he reached shallow water.

But Cornelius Vanderbilt was not the boy to give up. He at once began again, and in three years saved three thousand dollars. He often worked all night, and soon had far the largest patronage of any boatman in the harbor. During the War of 1812 he was awarded the Government contract to carry provisions to the military stations near the metropolis. He fulfilled his contract by night so that he might run his ferry-boat between New York and Brooklyn by day.

But Cornelius Vanderbilt was not a boy who would give up. He immediately started over and saved three thousand dollars in three years. He often worked all night. Soon he had far more customers than any other boatman in the harbor. During the War of 1812, he won a government contract to carry supplies to the military stations near New York. He fulfilled the contract at night so that he could run his ferryboat between New York and Brooklyn during the day.

The boy who gave his parents all his day earnings and had half of what he got at night, was worth thirty thousand dollars at thirty-five, and when he died, at an advanced age, he left to his thirteen children one of the largest fortunes in America.

The boy gave his parents all he earned during the day and kept half of what he earned at night. By age thirty-five, he was worth thirty thousand dollars. When he died at an advanced age, he left his thirteen children one of the largest fortunes in America.

Lord Eldon might well have pleaded "no chance" when a boy, for he was too poor to go to school or even to buy books. But no; he had grit and determination, and was bound to make his way in the world. He rose at four o'clock in the morning and copied law books which he borrowed, the voluminous "Coke upon Littleton" among others. He was so eager to study that sometimes he would keep it up until his brain refused to work, when he would tie a wet towel about his head to enable him to keep awake and to study. His first year's practice brought him but nine shillings, yet he was bound not to give up.

As a boy, Lord Eldon might well have said he had "no chance". He was too poor to go to school or even buy books. But he had grit and determination, and he was determined to make his way in the world. He rose at four in the morning to copy borrowed law books, including the lengthy "Coke upon Littleton". He was so eager to study that he sometimes kept going until his brain refused to work. Then he would tie a wet towel around his head to stay awake and keep studying. His first year of legal practice earned him only nine shillings, but he was determined not to give up.

When Eldon was leaving the chamber the Solicitor tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Young man, your bread and butter's cut for life." The boy with "no chance" became Lord Chancellor of England, and one of the greatest lawyers of his age.

As Eldon was leaving the chamber, the Solicitor tapped him on the shoulder. He said, "Young man, your living is assured for life." The boy with "no chance" became Lord Chancellor of England and one of the greatest lawyers of his age.

Stephen Girard had "no chance." He left his home in France when ten years old, and came to America as a cabin boy. His great ambition was to get on and succeed at any cost. There was no work, however hard and disagreeable, that he would not undertake. Midas like, he turned to gold everything he touched, and became one of the wealthiest merchants of Philadelphia. His abnormal love of money cannot be commended, but his thoroughness in all he did, his public spirit at times of national need, and willingness to risk his life to save strangers sick with the deadly yellow fever, are traits of character well worthy of imitation.

Stephen Girard had "no chance." He left his home in France at ten and came to America as a cabin boy. His great ambition was to get ahead and succeed at any cost. He would take on any work, no matter how hard or unpleasant. Like Midas, he turned everything he touched to gold. He became one of Philadelphia's wealthiest merchants. His excessive love of money cannot be praised. But he was thorough in everything he did and showed public spirit when the nation needed it. He was also willing to risk his life to save strangers sick with deadly yellow fever. These traits are well worth imitating.

John Wanamaker walked four miles to Philadelphia every day, and worked in a bookstore for one dollar and twenty-five cents a week. He next worked in a clothing store at an advance of twenty-five cents a week. From this he went up and up until he became one of the greatest living merchants. He was appointed Postmaster-General by President Harrison in 1889, and in that capacity showed great executive ability.

John Wanamaker walked four miles to Philadelphia every day and worked in a bookstore for $1.25 a week. He then worked in a clothing store for 25 cents more a week. From there, he continued to rise until he became one of the greatest merchants of his time. President Harrison appointed him Postmaster General in 1889. In that role, he showed great leadership ability.

Prejudice against her race and sex did not deter the colored girl, Edmonia Lewis, from struggling upward to honor and fame as a sculptor.

Prejudice against her race and sex did not stop Edmonia Lewis, a colored girl, from striving for honor and fame as a sculptor.

Fred Douglass started in life with less than nothing, for he did not own his own body, and he was pledged before his birth to pay his master's debts. To reach the starting-point of the poorest white boy, he had to climb as far as the distance which the latter must ascend if he would become President of the United States. He saw his mother but two or three times, and then in the night, when she would walk twelve miles to be with him an hour, returning in time to go into the field at dawn. He had no chance to study, for he had no teacher, and the rules of the plantation forbade slaves to learn to read and write. But somehow, unnoticed by his master, he managed to learn the alphabet from scraps of paper and patent medicine almanacs, and then no limits could be placed to his career. He put to shame thousands of white boys. He fled from slavery at twenty-one, went North, and worked as a stevedore in New York and New Bedford. At Nantucket he was given an opportunity to speak at an anti-slavery meeting, and made so favorable an impression that he was made agent of the Anti-Slavery Society of Massachusetts. While traveling from place to place to lecture, he would study with all his might. He was sent to Europe to lecture, and won the friendship of several Englishmen, who gave him $750, with which he purchased his freedom. He edited a paper in Rochester, N. Y., and afterwards conducted the "New Era" in Washington. For several years he was Marshal of the District of Columbia.

Fred Douglass started life with less than nothing. He did not own his own body, and before his birth he was pledged to pay his master's debts. To reach the starting point of the poorest white boy, he had to climb just as far as that boy would have to climb to become President of the United States. He saw his mother only two or three times, and always at night. She would walk twelve miles to spend an hour with him, then return to work in the field at dawn. He had no chance to study because he had no teacher. The plantation rules also forbade slaves to learn to read and write. But somehow, without his master noticing, he learned the alphabet from scraps of paper and patent medicine almanacs. After that, no limits could be placed on his career. He put thousands of white boys to shame. He fled from slavery at twenty-one and went North. He worked as a stevedore in New York and New Bedford. At Nantucket, he was given a chance to speak at an anti-slavery meeting. He made such a favorable impression that he was made an agent of the Anti-Slavery Society of Massachusetts. As he traveled from place to place giving lectures, he studied with all his might. He was sent to Europe to lecture and won the friendship of several Englishmen. They gave him $750, which he used to purchase his freedom. He edited a newspaper in Rochester, N. Y., and later ran the "New Era" in Washington. For several years, he was Marshal of the District of Columbia.

Henry E. Dixey, the well-known actor, began his career upon the stage in the humble part of the hind legs of a cow.

Henry E. Dixey, the well-known actor, began his stage career in the humble role of a cow’s hind legs.

P. T. Barnum rode a horse for ten cents a day.

P. T. Barnum rode a horse for ten cents a day.

It was a boy born in a log-cabin, without schooling, or books, or teacher, or ordinary opportunities, who won the admiration of mankind by his homely practical wisdom while President during our Civil War, and who emancipated four million slaves.

A boy was born in a log cabin without schooling, books, a teacher, or ordinary opportunities. As President during our Civil War, he won the admiration of mankind with his plain, practical wisdom. He also freed four million slaves.

Behold this long, lank, awkward youth, felling trees on the little claim, building his homely log-cabin, without floor or windows, teaching himself arithmetic and grammar in the evening by the light of the fireplace. In his eagerness to know the contents of Blackstone's Commentaries, he walked forty-four miles to procure the precious volumes, and read one hundred pages while returning. Abraham Lincoln inherited no opportunities, and acquired nothing by luck. His good fortune consisted simply of untiring perseverance and a right heart.

Look at this tall, thin, awkward young man, cutting down trees on his small claim and building a plain log cabin without a floor or windows. In the evenings, he taught himself arithmetic and grammar by the light of the fireplace. Eager to learn what was in Blackstone's Commentaries, he walked forty-four miles to get the precious volumes. He read one hundred pages on his way back. Abraham Lincoln inherited no opportunities and gained nothing through luck. His good fortune came simply from tireless perseverance and a good heart.

In another log-cabin, in the backwoods of Ohio, a poor widow is holding a boy eighteen months old, and wondering if she will be able to keep the wolf from her little ones. The boy grows, and in a few years we find him chopping wood and tilling the little clearing in the forest, to help his mother. Every spare hour is spent in studying the books he has borrowed, but cannot buy. At sixteen he gladly accepts a chance to drive mules on a canal towpath. Soon he applies for a chance to sweep floors and ring the bell of an academy, to pay his way while studying there.

In another log cabin, in the Ohio backwoods, a poor widow holds an eighteen-month-old boy. She wonders if she can keep her children from going hungry. The boy grows up, and within a few years he is chopping wood and farming the small clearing in the forest to help his mother. He spends every spare hour studying books he has borrowed but cannot afford to buy. At sixteen, he gladly takes a job driving mules along a canal towpath. Soon he applies for a job sweeping floors and ringing the bell at an academy. He hopes to pay his way while studying there.

His first term at Geauga Seminary cost him but seventeen dollars. When he returned the next term he had but a sixpence in his pocket, and this he put into the contribution box at church the next day. He engaged board, washing, fuel, and light of a carpenter at one dollar and six cents a week, with the privilege of working at night and on Saturdays all the time he could spare. He had arrived on a Saturday and planed fifty-one boards that day, for which he received one dollar and two cents. When the term closed, he had paid all expenses and had three dollars over. The following winter he taught school at twelve dollars a month and "board around." In the spring he had forty-eight dollars, and when he returned to school he boarded himself at an expense of thirty-one cents a week.

His first term at Geauga Seminary cost him only seventeen dollars. When he returned the next term, he had only a sixpence in his pocket. He put it in the church collection box the next day. He arranged for a carpenter to provide his room, meals, laundry, fuel, and light for one dollar and six cents a week. He could also work for the carpenter at night and on Saturdays whenever he had time. He arrived on a Saturday and planed fifty-one boards that day, earning one dollar and two cents. By the end of the term, he had paid all his expenses and had three dollars left. The following winter, he taught school for twelve dollars a month and "board around," staying with different families in turn. In the spring, he had forty-eight dollars. When he returned to school, he provided his own meals at a cost of thirty-one cents a week.

Soon we find him in Williams College, where in two years he is graduated with honors. He reaches the State Senate at twenty-six and Congress at thirty-three. Twenty-seven years from the time he applied for a chance to ring the bell at Hiram College, James A. Garfield became President of the United States. The inspiration of such an example is worth more to the young men of America than all the wealth of the Astors, the Vanderbilts, and the Goulds.

Soon he enters Williams College and graduates with honors two years later. He reaches the State Senate at twenty-six and Congress at thirty-three. Twenty-seven years after applying for a chance to ring the bell at Hiram College, James A. Garfield became President of the United States. The inspiration of his example is worth more to the young men of America than all the wealth of the Astors, the Vanderbilts, and the Goulds.

Among the world's greatest heroes and benefactors are many others whose cradles were rocked by want in lowly cottages, and who buffeted the billows of fate without dependence, save upon the mercy of God and their own energies.

Many of the world's greatest heroes and benefactors grew up in poverty in humble cottages. They battled the storms of fate, relying only on God's mercy and their own strength.

"The little gray cabin appears to be the birthplace of all your great men," said an English author who had been looking over a book of biographies of eminent Americans.

"The little gray cabin seems to be the birthplace of all your great men," said an English author. He had been looking through a book of biographies of prominent Americans.

With five chances on each hand and one unwavering aim, no boy, however poor, need despair. There is bread and success for every youth under the American flag who has energy and ability to seize his opportunity. It matters not whether the boy is born in a log-cabin or in a mansion; if he is dominated by a resolute purpose and upholds himself, neither men nor demons can keep him down.

With five fingers on each hand and one unwavering goal, no boy needs to despair, however poor he is. Every young person under the American flag can earn a living and succeed if he has the energy and ability to seize his opportunity. It does not matter whether a boy is born in a log cabin or a mansion. If he is driven by a firm purpose and stands on his own, neither men nor demons can keep him down.