Dare

The Spartans did not inquire how many the enemy are, but where they are.—AGIS II.

The Spartans did not ask how many enemies there were, but where they were. AGIS II.

What's brave, what's noble, let's do it after the high Roman fashion, and make death proud to take us.—SHAKESPEARE.

Let’s do what is brave and noble, in the great Roman tradition, and make death proud to take us. SHAKESPEARE.

Let me die facing the enemy.—BAYARD.

Let me die facing the enemy. (BAYARD)

Who conquers me, shall find a stubborn foe.—BYRON.

Whoever conquers me will find a stubborn opponent. (Byron)

Fortune befriends the bold.—DRYDEN.

Fortune favors the bold. DRYDEN.

To stand with a smile upon your face against a stake from which you cannot get away—that, no doubt, is heroic. But the true glory is resignation to the inevitable. To stand unchained, with perfect liberty to go away, held only by the higher claims of duty, and let the fire creep up to the heart,—this is heroism.—F. W. ROBERTSON.

To stand smiling against a stake you cannot escape is undoubtedly heroic. But the true glory is accepting what cannot be avoided. True heroism is standing unchained, free to leave, yet staying because duty calls, and letting the fire creep up to your heart. F. W. ROBERTSON.

"Steady, men! Every man must die where he stands!" said Colin Campbell to the Ninety-third Highlanders at Balaklava, as an overwhelming force of Russian cavalry came sweeping down. "Ay, ay, Sir Colin! we'll do that!" was the response from men, many of whom had to keep their word by thus obeying.

"Hold steady, men! Every man must die where he stands!" Colin Campbell said to the Ninety-third Highlanders at Balaklava. An overwhelming force of Russian cavalry was charging toward them. "Yes, yes, Sir Colin! We'll do that!" the men replied. Many of them had to keep their word by dying where they stood.

"Bring back the colors," shouted a captain at the battle of the Alma, when an ensign maintained his ground in front, although the men were retreating. "No," cried the ensign, "bring up the men to the colors."

"Bring back the colors," shouted a captain at the battle of the Alma. The ensign carrying the colors had held his position at the front, although the men were retreating. "No," cried the ensign, "bring the men up to the colors."

"To dare, and again to dare, and without end to dare," was Danton's noble defiance to the enemies of France. "The Commons of France have resolved to deliberate," said Mirabeau to De Breze, who brought an order from the king for them to disperse, June 23, 1789. "We have heard the intentions that have been attributed to the king; and you, sir, who cannot be recognized as his organ in the National Assembly,—you, who have neither place, voice, nor right to speak,—you are not the person to bring to us a message of his. Go, say to those who sent you that we are here by the power of the people, and that we will not be driven hence, save by the power of the bayonet."

"To dare, and dare again, and never stop daring," was Danton's noble defiance of France's enemies. On June 23, 1789, De Breze brought an order from the king for the Commons of France to disperse. Mirabeau replied, "The Commons of France have resolved to deliberate. We have heard what the king is said to intend. But you, sir, cannot be recognized as his spokesman in the National Assembly. You have no place, voice, or right to speak here. You are not the person to bring us a message from him. Go and tell those who sent you that we are here by the power of the people. We will not be driven out except by the power of the bayonet."

When the assembled senate of Rome begged Regulus not to return to Carthage to fulfil an illegal promise, he calmly replied: "Have you resolved to dishonor me? Torture and death are awaiting me, but what are these to the shame of an infamous act, or the wounds of a guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I still have the spirit of a Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty. Let the gods take care of the rest."

The assembled Roman senate begged Regulus not to return to Carthage to keep an unlawful promise. He calmly replied: "Are you determined to dishonor me? Torture and death await me, but what are they compared with the shame of a disgraceful act or the pain of a guilty conscience? Though I am a slave to Carthage, I still have the spirit of a Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty. Let the gods take care of the rest."

The courage which Cranmer had shown since the accession of Mary gave way the moment his final doom was announced. The moral cowardice which had displayed itself in his miserable compliance with the lust and despotism of Henry VIII displayed itself again in six successive recantations by which he hoped to purchase pardon. But pardon was impossible; and Cranmer's strangely mingled nature found a power in its very weakness when he was brought into the church of St. Mary at Oxford on the 21st of March, to repeat his recantation on the way to the stake. "Now," ended his address to the hushed congregation before him,—"now I come to the great thing that troubleth my conscience more than any other thing that ever I said or did in my life, and that is the setting abroad of writings contrary to the truth; which here I now renounce and refuse as things written by a hand contrary to the truth which I thought in my heart, and written for fear of death, to save my life, if it might be. And, forasmuch as my hand offended in writing contrary to my heart, my hand therefore shall be the first punished; for if I come to the fire it shall be the first burned." "This was the hand that wrote it," he again exclaimed at the stake, "therefore it shall suffer first punishment"; and holding it steadily in the flame, "he never stirred nor cried till life was gone."

The courage Cranmer had shown since Mary came to power vanished the moment his final sentence was announced. He had shown moral cowardice before, when he miserably submitted to the lust and tyranny of Henry VIII. Now he showed it again by recanting six times, hoping to buy a pardon. But pardon was impossible. Yet Cranmer’s strangely mixed nature found strength in its very weakness. On March 21, he was brought into the church of St. Mary at Oxford. On his way to the stake, he was to repeat his recantation. He ended his address to the silent congregation: “Now I come to the great thing that troubles my conscience more than anything else I ever said or did. I published writings that went against the truth. I now reject and renounce them, because my hand wrote what was against the truth I believed in my heart. I wrote them for fear of death, to save my life if I could. And because my hand offended by writing against my heart, it shall be punished first. If I come to the fire, it shall be the first to burn.” At the stake, he exclaimed again, “This was the hand that wrote it, so it shall suffer punishment first.” He held it steadily in the flame, and “he never moved or cried out until his life was gone.”

A woman's piercing shriek suddenly startled a party of surveyors at dinner in a forest of northern Virginia on a calm, sunny day in 1750. The cries were repeated in quick succession, and the men sprang through the undergrowth to learn their cause. "Oh, sir," exclaimed the woman as she caught sight of a youth of eighteen, but a man in stature and bearing; "you will surely do something for me! Make these friends release me. My boy,—my poor boy is drowning, and they will not let me go!" "It would be madness; she will jump into the river," said one of the men who was holding her; "and the rapids would dash her to pieces in a moment!" Throwing off his coat, the youth sprang to the edge of the bank, scanned for a moment the rocks and whirling currents, and then, at sight of part of the boy's dress, plunged into the roaring rapids. "Thank God, he will save my child!" cried the mother, and all rushed to the brink of the precipice; "there he is! Oh, my boy, my darling boy! How could I leave you?"

On a calm, sunny day in 1750, a woman’s piercing scream suddenly startled a group of surveyors eating dinner in a northern Virginia forest. She screamed again and again, and the men rushed through the undergrowth to see what was wrong. The woman caught sight of an eighteen-year-old youth who had the build and bearing of a man. "Oh, sir," she cried, "you will surely do something for me! Make these friends let me go. My boy, my poor boy is drowning, and they will not let me go!" "It would be madness. She will jump into the river," said one of the men holding her. "The rapids would dash her to pieces in a moment!" The youth threw off his coat and sprang to the riverbank. He looked for a moment at the rocks and swirling currents. Then he saw part of the boy’s clothing and plunged into the roaring rapids. "Thank God, he will save my child!" cried the mother. Everyone rushed to the edge of the steep bank. "There he is! Oh, my boy, my darling boy! How could I leave you?"

But all eyes were bent upon the youth struggling with strong heart and hope amid the dizzy sweep of the whirling currents far below. Now it seemed as if he would be dashed against a projecting rock, over which the water flew in foam, and anon a whirlpool would drag him in, from whose grasp escape would seem impossible. Twice the boy went out of sight, but he had reappeared the second time, although terribly near the most dangerous part of the river. The rush of waters here was tremendous, and no one had ever dared to approach it, even in a canoe, lest he should be dashed to pieces. The youth redoubled his exertions. Three times he was about to grasp the child, when some stronger eddy would toss it from him. One final effort he makes; the child is held aloft by his strong right arm; but a cry of horror bursts from the lips of every spectator as boy and man shoot over the falls and vanish in the seething waters below.

But all eyes were fixed on the young man struggling bravely and hopefully in the dizzying currents far below. At one moment, he seemed about to be dashed against a projecting rock, where the water foamed. At another, a whirlpool would drag him in, and escape seemed impossible. Twice the boy disappeared from sight. He had reappeared the second time, although terribly close to the most dangerous part of the river. The water rushed with tremendous force there. No one had ever dared approach it, even in a canoe, for fear of being dashed to pieces. The young man tried even harder. Three times he was about to grasp the child, but each time a stronger current tossed the child away. He makes one final effort and holds the child aloft with his strong right arm. But every spectator cries out in horror as boy and man shoot over the falls and vanish in the churning water below.

"There they are!" shouted the mother a moment later, in a delirium of joy. "See! they are safe! Great God, I thank Thee!" And sure enough, they emerged unharmed from the boiling vortex, and in a few minutes reached a low place in the bank and were drawn up by their friends, the boy senseless, but still alive, and the youth almost exhausted. "God will give you a reward," solemnly spoke the grateful woman. "He will do great things for you in return for this day's work, and the blessings of thousands besides mine will attend you."

"There they are!" the mother shouted a moment later, overcome with joy. "Look! They're safe! Great God, I thank you!" Sure enough, they emerged unharmed from the churning water. Within minutes, they reached a low place on the bank, where their friends pulled them up. The boy was unconscious but still alive, and the young man was almost exhausted. "God will reward you," the grateful woman said solemnly. "He will do great things for you in return for what you did today. Thousands of others, as well as I, will bless you."

The youth was George Washington.

The young man was George Washington.

"Your Grace has not the organ of animal courage largely developed," said a phrenologist, who was examining Wellington's head. "You are right," replied the Iron Duke, "and but for my sense of duty I should have retreated in my first fight." That first fight, on an Indian field, was one of the most terrible on record.

"Your Grace, the part of your brain responsible for animal courage is not highly developed," said a phrenologist examining Wellington's head. "You are right," replied the Iron Duke. "If not for my sense of duty, I would have retreated in my first fight." That first fight, on an Indian battlefield, was one of the most terrible on record.

When General Jackson was a judge and was holding court in a small settlement, a border ruffian, a murderer and desperado, came into the court-room with brutal violence and interrupted the court. The judge ordered him to be arrested. The officer did not dare to approach him. "Call a posse," said the judge, "and arrest him." But they also shrank in fear from the ruffian. "Call me, then," said Jackson; "this court is adjourned for five minutes." He left the bench, walked straight up to the man, and with his eagle eye actually cowed the ruffian, who dropped his weapons, afterwards saying, "There was something in his eye I could not resist."

When General Jackson was a judge, he was holding court in a small settlement. A violent outlaw from the frontier, a murderer and desperado, burst into the courtroom and interrupted the proceedings. The judge ordered him arrested. But the officer was too afraid to approach him. "Gather a posse," said the judge, "and arrest him." But the posse also shrank from the outlaw in fear. "Call me, then," said Jackson. "This court is adjourned for five minutes." He left the bench and walked straight up to the man. With his eagle-like gaze, he actually cowed the outlaw, who dropped his weapons. The man later said, "There was something in his eye I could not resist."

One of the last official acts of President Carnot, of France, was the sending of a medal of the French Legion of Honor to a little American girl who lives in Indiana. While a train on the Pan Handle Railroad, having on board several distinguished Frenchmen, was bound to Chicago and the World's Fair, Jennie Carey, who was then ten years old, discovered that a trestle was on fire, and that if the train, which was nearly due, entered it a dreadful wreck would take place. Thereupon she ran out upon the track to a place where she could be seen from some little distance. Then she took off her red flannel skirt and, when the train came in view, waved it back and forth across the track. It was seen, and the train stopped. On board of it were seven hundred people, many of whom must have suffered death but for Jennie's courage and presence of mind. When they returned to France, the Frenchmen brought the occurrence to the notice of President Carnot, and the result was the sending of the medal of this famous French society, the purpose of which is the honoring of bravery and merit, wherever they may be found.

One of French President Carnot's last official acts was to send a French Legion of Honor medal to a young American girl in Indiana. A Pan Handle Railroad train was carrying several distinguished Frenchmen to Chicago and the World's Fair. Jennie Carey, who was ten years old, discovered that a railroad trestle was on fire. The train was nearly due, and if it entered the trestle, a terrible wreck would occur. So Jennie ran onto the track to a place where she could be seen from some distance. She took off her red flannel skirt and waved it back and forth across the track when the train came into view. The skirt was seen, and the train stopped. There were seven hundred people on board. Many of them would surely have died without Jennie's courage and presence of mind. When the Frenchmen returned to France, they told President Carnot what had happened. As a result, he sent Jennie a medal from this famous French society, which honors bravery and merit wherever they are found.

It was the heroic devotion of an Indian girl that saved the life of Captain John Smith, when the powerful King Powhatan had decreed his death. Ill could the struggling colony spare him at that time.

An Indian girl’s heroic devotion saved Captain John Smith’s life when the powerful King Powhatan ordered his death. At that time, the struggling colony could hardly afford to lose him.

On May 10, 1796, Napoleon carried the bridge at Lodi, in the face of the Austrian batteries. Fourteen cannon—some accounts say thirty—were trained upon the French end of the structure. Behind them were six thousand troops. Napoleon massed four thousand grenadiers at the head of the bridge, with a battalion of three hundred carbineers in front. At the tap of the drum the foremost assailants wheeled from the cover of the street wall under a terrible hail of grape and canister, and attempted to pass the gateway to the bridge. The front ranks went down like stalks of grain before a reaper; the column staggered and reeled backward, and the valiant grenadiers were appalled by the task before them. Without a word or a look of reproach, Napoleon placed himself at their head, and his aides and generals rushed to his side. Forward again, this time over heaps of dead that choked the passage, and a quick run, counted by seconds only, carried the column across two hundred yards of clear space, scarcely a shot from the Austrians taking effect beyond the point where the platoons wheeled for the first leap. So sudden and so miraculous was it all that the Austrian artillerists abandoned their guns instantly, and instead of rushing to the front and meeting the French onslaught, their supports fled in a panic. This Napoleon had counted on in making the bold attack. The contrast between Napoleon's slight figure and the massive grenadiers suggested the nickname "Little Corporal."

On May 10, 1796, Napoleon captured the bridge at Lodi in the face of Austrian cannon fire. Fourteen cannons, or thirty according to some accounts, were aimed at the French end of the bridge. Behind them stood six thousand troops. Napoleon assembled four thousand grenadiers at the head of the bridge, with a battalion of three hundred carbineers in front. At the tap of the drum, the leading attackers turned from behind the shelter of the street wall. Under a terrible hail of grapeshot and canister, they tried to pass through the gateway to the bridge. The front ranks fell like grain before a reaper. The column staggered and reeled backward, and the brave grenadiers were terrified by the task before them. Without a word or a look of reproach, Napoleon placed himself at their head. His aides and generals rushed to his side. The column moved forward again, this time over heaps of dead men that choked the passage. In a quick run lasting only seconds, the men crossed two hundred yards of open ground. Scarcely an Austrian shot hit them beyond the point where the platoons had turned for their first rush. The attack was so sudden and miraculous that the Austrian gunners immediately abandoned their cannons. Instead of rushing forward to meet the French assault, their supporting troops fled in a panic. Napoleon had counted on this when he made the bold attack. The contrast between Napoleon's slight figure and the massive grenadiers suggested the nickname "Little Corporal."

When Stephen of Colonna fell into the hands of base assailants, they asked him in derision, "Where is now your fortress?" "Here," was his bold reply, placing his hand upon his heart.

When Stephen of Colonna fell into the hands of dishonorable attackers, they mocked him. "Where is your fortress now?" they asked. "Here," he replied boldly, placing his hand over his heart.

After the Mexican War General McClellan was employed as a topographical engineer in surveying the Pacific coast. From his headquarters at Vancouver he had gone on an exploring expedition with two companions, a soldier and a servant, when one evening he received word that the chiefs of the Columbia River tribes desired to confer with him. From the messenger's manner he suspected that the Indians meant mischief, and so he warned his companions that they must be ready to leave camp at a moment's notice.

After the Mexican War, General McClellan worked as a topographical engineer, surveying the Pacific coast. From his headquarters at Vancouver, he set out on an exploring expedition with two companions, a soldier and a servant. One evening, he received word that the chiefs of the Columbia River tribes wanted to meet with him. The messenger’s manner made McClellan suspect that the Indians meant trouble. So he warned his companions to be ready to leave camp at a moment’s notice.

Mounting his horse, he rode boldly into the Indian village. About thirty chiefs were holding council. McClellan was led into the circle, and placed at the right hand of Saltese. He was familiar with the Chinook jargon, and could understand every word spoken in the council. Saltese made known the grievance of the tribes. Two Indians had been captured by a party of white pioneers and hanged for theft. Retaliation for this outrage seemed imperative. The chiefs pondered long, but had little to say. McClellan had been on friendly terms with them, and was not responsible for the forest executions, but still, he was a white man, and the chiefs had vowed vengeance against the race. The council was prolonged for hours before sentence was passed, and then Saltese, in the name of the head men of the tribes, decreed that McClellan should immediately be put to death.

He mounted his horse and rode boldly into the Indian village. About thirty chiefs were holding a council. McClellan was led into the circle and seated at Saltese’s right hand. He knew the Chinook jargon and could understand every word spoken at the council. Saltese explained the tribes’ grievance. A group of white pioneers had captured two Indians and hanged them for theft. Retaliation for this outrage seemed necessary. The chiefs thought about it for a long time but said little. McClellan had been on friendly terms with them and was not responsible for the executions in the forest. But he was a white man, and the chiefs had vowed revenge against the race. The council went on for hours before a sentence was passed. Then Saltese, speaking for the tribes’ leaders, declared that McClellan should be put to death immediately.

McClellan said nothing. He had known that argument and pleas for justice or mercy would be of no avail. He sat motionless, apparently indifferent to his fate. By his listlessness he had thrown his captors off their guard. When the sentence was passed he acted like a flash. Flinging his left arm around the neck of Saltese, he whipped out his revolver and held it close to the chief's temple. "Revoke that sentence, or I shall kill you this instant!" he cried, with his fingers clicking the trigger. "I revoke it!" exclaimed Saltese, fairly livid from fear. "I must have your word that I can leave this council in safety." "You have the word of Saltese," was the quick response.

McClellan said nothing. He knew that arguments and pleas for justice or mercy would be useless. He sat motionless, apparently indifferent to his fate. His lack of interest had made his captors let down their guard. When the sentence was announced, he acted in a flash. He threw his left arm around Saltese’s neck, pulled out his revolver, and held it close to the chief’s temple. "Revoke that sentence, or I’ll kill you this instant!" he cried, clicking the trigger with his fingers. "I revoke it!" exclaimed Saltese, pale with fear. "I must have your word that I can leave this council safely." "You have the word of Saltese," came the quick response.

McClellan knew how sacred was the pledge which he had received. The revolver was lowered. Saltese was released from the embrace of the strong arm. McClellan strode out of the tent with his revolver in his hand. Not a hand was raised against him. He mounted his horse and rode to his camp, where his two followers were ready to spring into the saddle and to escape from the villages. He owed his life to his quickness of perception, his courage, and to his accurate knowledge of Indian character.

McClellan knew how sacred the pledge he had received was. He lowered his revolver and released Saltese from his strong grip. McClellan strode out of the tent with his revolver in his hand. No one raised a hand against him. He mounted his horse and rode to his camp. There, his two followers were ready to mount their horses and escape from the villages. He owed his life to his quick perception, his courage, and his accurate knowledge of Indian character.

In 1856, Rufus Choate spoke to an audience of nearly five thousand in Lowell, Mass., in favor of the candidacy of James Buchanan for the presidency. The floor of the great hall began to sink, settling more and more as he proceeded with his address, until a sound of cracking timber below would have precipitated a stampede with fatal results but for the coolness of B. F. Butler, who presided. Telling the people to remain quiet, he said that he would see if there were any cause for alarm. He found the supports of the floor in so bad a condition that the slightest applause would be likely to bury the audience in the ruins of the building. Returning rather leisurely to the platform, he whispered to Choate as he passed, "We shall all be in —— in five minutes"; then he told the crowd that there was no immediate danger if they would slowly disperse. The post of danger, he added, was on the platform, which was most weakly supported, therefore he and those with him would be the last to leave. No doubt many lives were saved by his coolness.

In 1856, Rufus Choate spoke to nearly five thousand people in Lowell, Mass., in support of James Buchanan for president. As he spoke, the floor of the great hall began to sink, settling lower and lower. Then the sound of cracking timber below might have caused a deadly stampede. But B. F. Butler, who was presiding, remained calm. He told the audience to stay quiet while he checked for danger. He found the floor supports in such bad condition that even a little applause would likely collapse the building, burying the audience in its ruins. Butler returned to the platform at a leisurely pace. As he passed Choate, he whispered, "We shall all be in ____ in five minutes." Then he told the crowd there was no immediate danger if they left slowly. He added that the platform was the most dangerous place, since it had the weakest supports. Therefore, he and those with him would be the last to leave. No doubt his calmness saved many lives.

Many distinguished foreign and American statesmen were present at a fashionable dinner party where wine was freely poured, but Schuyler Colfax, then vice-president of the United States, declined to drink from a proffered cup. "Colfax dares not drink," sneered a Senator who had already taken too much. "You are right," said the Vice-President, "I dare not."

Many distinguished foreign and American statesmen attended a fashionable dinner party where wine was poured freely. But Schuyler Colfax, then vice president of the United States, declined a cup offered to him. "Colfax dares not drink," sneered a senator who had already drunk too much. "You are right," said the vice president. "I dare not."

When Grant was in Houston many years ago, he was given a rousing reception. Naturally hospitable, and naturally inclined to like a man of Grant's make-up, the Houstonites determined to go beyond any other Southern city in the way of a banquet and other manifestations of their good-will and hospitality. They made lavish preparations for the dinner, the committee taking great pains to have the finest wines that could be procured for the table that night. When the time came to serve the wine, the headwaiter went first to Grant. Without a word the general quietly turned down all the glasses at his plate. This movement was a great surprise to the Texans, but they were equal to the occasion. Without a single word being spoken, every man along the line of the long tables turned his glasses down, and there was not a drop of wine taken that night.

Many years ago, Grant received an enthusiastic welcome in Houston. The people of Houston were naturally hospitable and inclined to like a man like Grant. They decided to outdo every other Southern city with a banquet and other displays of goodwill and hospitality. They made lavish preparations for the dinner. The committee took great care to obtain the finest wines available for the table that night. When it was time to serve the wine, the headwaiter went first to Grant. Without a word, the general quietly turned over all the glasses at his place. The Texans were greatly surprised, but they rose to the occasion. Without a word, every man along the long tables turned over his glasses, and no wine was drunk that night.

Two French officers at Waterloo were advancing to charge a greatly superior force. One, observing that the other showed signs of fear, said, "Sir, I believe you are frightened." "Yes, I am," was the reply, "and if you were half as much frightened, you would run away."

Two French officers at Waterloo were advancing to attack a much larger force. One noticed that the other showed signs of fear and said, "Sir, I believe you are afraid." "Yes, I am," the other replied, "and if you were half as afraid, you would run away."

"That's a brave man," said Wellington, when he saw a soldier turn pale as he marched against a battery; "he knows his danger, and faces it."

"That's a brave man," Wellington said when he saw a soldier turn pale while marching against a battery. "He knows the danger and faces it."

"There are many cardinals and bishops at Worms," said a friend to Luther, "and they will burn your body to ashes as they did that of John Huss." Luther replied: "Although they should make a fire that should reach from Worms to Wittenberg, and that should flame up to heaven, in the Lord's name I would pass through it and appear before them." He said to another: "I would enter Worms though there were as many devils there as there are tiles upon the roofs of the houses." Another man said to him: "Duke George will surely arrest you." He replied: "It is my duty to go, and I will go, though it rain Duke Georges for nine days together."

"There are many cardinals and bishops at Worms," a friend told Luther. "They will burn your body to ashes, as they did John Huss's." Luther replied: "Even if they built a fire from Worms to Wittenberg that reached to heaven, I would pass through it in the Lord's name and appear before them." He told another person: "I would enter Worms even if there were as many devils there as tiles on the roofs." Another man told him: "Duke George will surely arrest you." Luther replied: "It is my duty to go, and I will go, even if it rains Duke Georges for nine days straight."

A Western paper recently invited the surviving Union and Confederate officers to give an account of the bravest act observed by each during the Civil War. Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson said that at a dinner at Beaufort, S. C., where wine flowed freely and ribald jests were bandied, Dr. Miner, a slight, boyish fellow who did not drink, was told that he could not go until he had drunk a toast, told a story, or sung a song. He replied: "I cannot sing, but I will give a toast, although I must drink it in water. It is 'Our Mothers.'" The men were so affected and ashamed that they took him by the hand and thanked him for displaying such admirable moral courage.

A Western newspaper recently asked surviving Union and Confederate officers to describe the bravest act each had witnessed during the Civil War. Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson recalled a dinner in Beaufort, S. C., where wine flowed freely and the men traded bawdy jokes. Dr. Miner was a slight, boyish man who did not drink. He was told he could not leave until he had drunk a toast, told a story, or sung a song. He replied: "I cannot sing, but I will offer a toast, although I must drink it in water. It is 'Our Mothers.'" The men were so moved and ashamed that they shook his hand and thanked him for showing such admirable moral courage.

It takes courage for a young man to stand firmly erect while others are bowing and fawning for praise and power. It takes courage to wear threadbare clothes while your comrades dress in broadcloth. It takes courage to remain in honest poverty when others grow rich by fraud. It takes courage to say "No" squarely when those around you say "Yes." It takes courage to do your duty in silence and obscurity while others prosper and grow famous although neglecting sacred obligations. It takes courage to unmask your true self, to show your blemishes to a condemning world, and to pass for what you really are.

It takes courage for a young man to stand tall while others flatter and grovel for praise and power. It takes courage to wear worn-out clothes while your friends dress in fine suits. It takes courage to remain poor and honest when others grow rich through fraud. It takes courage to say "No" firmly when those around you say "Yes." It takes courage to do your duty quietly and unnoticed while others prosper and become famous despite neglecting sacred duties. It takes courage to reveal your true self, show your flaws to a judgmental world, and be seen as you really are.

It takes courage and pluck to be outvoted, beaten, laughed at, scoffed, ridiculed, derided, misunderstood, misjudged, to stand alone with all the world against you, but

It takes courage and determination to be outvoted, defeated, laughed at, mocked, ridiculed, misunderstood, and misjudged. It takes courage to stand alone with the whole world against you, but

"An honest man is not the worse because a dog barks at him."

"An honest man is no worse because a dog barks at him."

We live ridiculously for fear of being thought ridiculous.

We live ridiculous lives because we fear being thought ridiculous.

The youth who starts out by being afraid to speak what he thinks will usually end by being afraid to think what he wishes.

A young person who starts out afraid to speak his mind will usually end up afraid to think what he wants.

How we shrink from an act of our own! We live as others live. Custom or fashion, or your doctor or minister, dictates, and they in turn dare not depart from their schools. Dress, living, servants, carriages, everything must conform, or we are ostracized. Who dares conduct his household or business affairs in his own way, and snap his fingers at Dame Grundy?

How we shrink from acting on our own! We live as others do. Custom, fashion, your doctor, or your minister tells you what to do. And doctors and ministers, in turn, dare not stray from their schools of thought. Our clothes, our way of life, our servants, our carriages, everything must conform, or we are shunned. Who dares run their household or business their own way and snap their fingers at Dame Grundy?

It takes courage for a public man not to bend the knee to popular prejudice. It takes courage to refuse to follow custom when it is injurious to his health and morals. How much easier for a politician to prevaricate and dodge an issue than to stand squarely on his feet like a man!

It takes courage for a public figure to resist popular prejudice. It takes courage to reject customs that harm his health and morals. How much easier it is for a politician to lie and dodge an issue than to stand firm like a man!

As the strongest man has a weakness somewhere, so the greatest hero is a coward somewhere. Peter was courageous enough to draw his sword to defend his Master, but he could not stand the ridicule and the finger of scorn of the maidens in the high priest's hall, and he actually denied even the acquaintance of the Master he had declared he would die for.

Just as the strongest man has a weakness somewhere, the greatest hero is a coward in some way. Peter was brave enough to draw his sword to defend his Master. But he could not bear the ridicule and scorn of the young women in the high priest's hall. He even denied knowing the Master he had declared he would die for.

Don't be like Uriah Heep, begging everybody's pardon for taking the liberty of being in the world. There is nothing attractive in timidity, nothing lovable in fear. Both are deformities and are repulsive. Manly courage is always dignified and graceful.

Don't be like Uriah Heep, apologizing to everyone for daring to exist. There is nothing attractive about timidity or lovable about fear. Both are deformities and are repulsive. Manly courage is always dignified and graceful.

Bruno, condemned to be burned alive in Rome, said to his judge: "You are more afraid to pronounce my sentence than I am to receive it." Anne Askew, racked until her bones were dislocated, never flinched, but looked her tormentor calmly in the face and refused to adjure her faith.

Bruno was sentenced to be burned alive in Rome. He said to his judge: "You are more afraid to pronounce my sentence than I am to receive it." Anne Askew was tortured on the rack until her bones were dislocated. She never flinched, but calmly looked her tormentor in the face and refused to renounce her faith.

"I should have thought fear would have kept you from going so far," said a relative who found the little boy Nelson wandering a long distance from home. "Fear?" said the future admiral, "I don't know him."

"I would have thought fear would keep you from going so far," said a relative who found young Nelson wandering far from home. "Fear?" said the future admiral. "I don't know him."

"To think a thing is impossible is to make it so." Courage is victory, timidity's defeat.

"To believe something is impossible is to make it impossible." Courage is victory, and fear is defeat.

That simple shepherd-lad, David, fresh from his flocks, marching unattended and unarmed, save with his shepherd's staff and sling, to confront the colossal Goliath with his massive armor, is the sublimest audacity the world has ever seen.

David was a humble young shepherd, fresh from tending his flocks. He went alone to confront the giant Goliath in his massive armor. David carried only his shepherd’s staff and sling. This was the most magnificent act of daring the world has ever seen.

"Dent, I wish you would get down and see what is the matter with that leg there," said Grant, when he and Colonel Dent were riding through the thickest of a fire that had become so concentrated and murderous that his troops had all been driven back. "I guess looking after your horse's legs can wait," said Dent; "it is simply murder for us to sit here." "All right," said Grant; "if you don't want to see to it, I will." He dismounted, untwisted a piece of telegraph wire which had begun to cut the horse's leg, examined it deliberately, and climbed into his saddle. "Dent," said he, "when you've got a horse that you think a great deal of, you should never take any chances with him. If that wire had been left there for a little time longer he would have gone dead lame, and would perhaps have been ruined for life."

"Dent, I wish you would get down and see what is wrong with that leg," said Grant. He and Colonel Dent were riding through the thickest part of the gunfire. It had become so concentrated and deadly that all his troops had been driven back. "I think looking after your horse's legs can wait," said Dent. "It's simply murder for us to sit here." "All right," said Grant. "If you don't want to look after it, I will." He dismounted and untwisted a piece of telegraph wire that had begun to cut into the horse's leg. He calmly examined the leg and climbed back into the saddle. "Dent," he said, "when you have a horse you value highly, you should never take chances with him. If that wire had been left there a little longer, he would have become completely lame. He might even have been ruined for life."

Wellington said that at Waterloo the hottest of the battle raged round a farmhouse, with an orchard surrounded by a thick hedge, which was so important a point in the British position that orders were given to hold it at any hazard or sacrifice. At last the powder and ball ran short and the hedges took fire, surrounding the orchard with a wall of flame. A messenger had been sent for ammunition, and soon two loaded wagons came galloping toward the farmhouse. "The driver of the first wagon, with the reckless daring of an English boy, spurred his struggling and terrified horses through the burning heap; but the flames rose fiercely round, and caught the powder, which exploded in an instant, sending wagon, horses, and rider in fragments into the air. For a instant the driver of the second wagon paused, appalled by his comrade's fate; the next, observing that the flames, beaten back for the moment by the explosion, afforded him one desperate chance, sent his horses at the smoldering breach and, amid the deafening cheers of the garrison, landed his terrible cargo safely within. Behind him the flames closed up, and raged more fiercely than ever."

Wellington said that at Waterloo, the fiercest fighting raged around a farmhouse. Its orchard was surrounded by a thick hedge. The farmhouse was so important to the British position that orders were given to hold it at any cost. At last, the gunpowder and bullets ran low, and the hedge caught fire. A wall of flames surrounded the orchard. A messenger had been sent for ammunition, and soon two loaded wagons came galloping toward the farmhouse. "The driver of the first wagon showed the reckless daring of an English boy. He urged his struggling, terrified horses through the burning hedge. But the flames rose fiercely around them and reached the gunpowder. It exploded instantly, sending the wagon, horses, and driver into the air in pieces. For a moment, the driver of the second wagon paused, horrified by his comrade's fate. Then he saw that the explosion had briefly beaten back the flames, giving him one desperate chance. He drove his horses through the smoldering opening and brought his dangerous cargo safely inside. The garrison greeted him with deafening cheers. Behind him, the flames closed in and raged more fiercely than ever."

At the battle of Friedland a cannon-ball came over the heads of the French soldiers, and a young soldier instinctively dodged. Napoleon looked at him and smilingly said: "My friend, if that ball were destined for you, though you were to burrow a hundred feet under ground it would be sure to find you there."

At the battle of Friedland, a cannonball flew over the heads of the French soldiers. A young soldier instinctively ducked. Napoleon looked at him and said with a smile: "My friend, if that ball were meant for you, it would find you even if you burrowed a hundred feet underground."

When the mine in front of Petersburg was finished the fuse was lighted and the Union troops were drawn up ready to charge the enemy's works as soon as the explosion should make a breach. But seconds, minutes, and tens of minutes passed, without a sound from the mine, and the suspense became painful. Lieutenant Doughty and Sergeant Rees volunteered to examine the fuse. Through the long subterranean galleries they hurried in silence, not knowing but that they were advancing to a horrible death. They found the defect, fired the train anew, and soon a terrible upheaval of earth gave the signal to march to victory.

When the mine in front of Petersburg was finished, the fuse was lit. Union troops lined up, ready to charge the enemy’s defenses as soon as the explosion made an opening. But seconds passed, then minutes, then tens of minutes, without a sound from the mine. The suspense became painful. Lieutenant Doughty and Sergeant Rees volunteered to check the fuse. They hurried silently through the long underground tunnels, knowing they might be heading toward a horrible death. They found the problem and lit the fuse again. Soon a terrible eruption of earth gave the signal to march to victory.

At the battle of Copenhagen, as Nelson walked the deck slippery with blood and covered with the dead, he said: "This is warm work, and this day may be the last to any of us in a moment. But, mark me, I would not be elsewhere for thousands." At the battle of Trafalgar, when he was shot and was being carried below, he covered his face, that those fighting might not know their chief had fallen.

At the battle of Copenhagen, Nelson walked the deck, which was slippery with blood and covered with the dead. He said: "This is fierce fighting, and any of us could die at any moment today. But, mark my words, I would not be anywhere else for thousands." At the battle of Trafalgar, Nelson was shot and carried below. He covered his face so the men fighting would not know their commander had fallen.

In a skirmish at Salamanca, while the enemy's guns were pouring shot into his regiment, Sir William Napier's men became disobedient. He at once ordered a halt, and flogged four of the ringleaders under fire. The men yielded at once, and then marched three miles under a heavy cannonade as coolly as if it were a review.

During a skirmish at Salamanca, enemy guns poured shot into Sir William Napier's regiment, and his men began disobeying orders. He immediately ordered a halt and had four of the ringleaders flogged under fire. The men submitted at once. They then marched three miles under heavy cannon fire, as calmly as if they were on parade.

Execute your resolutions immediately. Thoughts are but dreams until their effects be tried. Does competition trouble you? work away; what is your competitor but a man? Conquer your place in the world, for all things serve a brave soul. Combat difficulty manfully; sustain misfortune bravely; endure poverty nobly; encounter disappointment courageously. The influence of the brave man is contagious and creates an epidemic of noble zeal in all about him. Every day sends to the grave obscure men who have only remained in obscurity because their timidity has prevented them from making a first effort; and who, if they could have been induced to begin, would in all probability have gone great lengths in the career of usefulness and fame. "No great deed is done," says George Eliot, "by falterers who ask for certainty."

Act on your resolutions immediately. Thoughts are only dreams until you put them to the test. Does competition worry you? Keep working. Your competitor is only a man. Win your place in the world, for all things serve a brave soul. Face difficulty with courage. Bear misfortune bravely. Endure poverty with dignity. Meet disappointment with courage. A brave man's influence is contagious, spreading noble enthusiasm to everyone around him. Every day, unknown men go to their graves. They have remained unknown only because their timidity kept them from making a first effort. If they could have been persuaded to begin, they would probably have achieved great usefulness and fame. "No great deed is done," says George Eliot, "by falterers who ask for certainty."

After the great inward struggle was over, and he had determined to remain loyal to his principles, Thomas More walked cheerfully to the block. His wife called him a fool for staying in a dark, damp, filthy prison when he might have his liberty by merely renouncing his doctrines, as some of the bishops had done. But Thomas More preferred death to dishonor.

After a great inner struggle, Thomas More decided to stay true to his principles. He walked cheerfully to the executioner's block. His wife called him a fool for staying in a dark, damp, filthy prison. He could have gone free simply by giving up his beliefs, as some of the bishops had done. But Thomas More preferred death to dishonor.

His daughter showed the power of love to drive away fear. She remained true to her father when all others, even her mother, had forsaken him. After his head had been cut off and exhibited on a pole on London Bridge, the poor girl begged it of the authorities, and requested that it be buried in the coffin with her. Her request was granted, for her death soon occurred.

His daughter showed how love can drive away fear. She stayed loyal to her father when everyone else, even her mother, had abandoned him. After his head was cut off and displayed on a pole on London Bridge, the poor girl begged the authorities for it. She asked that it be buried in her coffin. Her request was granted, for she died soon afterward.

When Sir Walter Raleigh came to the scaffold he was very faint, and began his speech to the crowd by saying that during the last two days he had been visited by two ague fits. "If, therefore, you perceive any weakness in me, I beseech you ascribe it to my sickness rather than to myself." He took the ax and kissed the blade, and said to the sheriff: "'T is a sharp medicine, but a sound cure for all diseases."

When Sir Walter Raleigh came to the scaffold, he felt very faint. He began his speech to the crowd by saying that he had suffered two fever attacks in the past two days. "So, if you notice any weakness in me, please attribute it to my illness rather than to me." He took the ax, kissed the blade, and said to the sheriff: "It is a sharp medicine, but a sure cure for all diseases."

Don't waste time dreaming of obstacles you may never encounter, or in crossing bridges you have not reached. To half will and to hang forever in the balance is to lose your grip on life.

Don't waste time imagining obstacles you may never face or crossing bridges before you reach them. Halfhearted resolve and endless indecision make you lose your grip on life.

Abraham Lincoln's boyhood was one long struggle with poverty, with little education, and no influential friends. When at last he had begun the practice of law, it required no little courage to cast his fortune with the weaker side in politics, and thus imperil what small reputation he had gained. Only the most sublime moral courage could have sustained him as President to hold his ground against hostile criticism and a long train of disaster; to issue the Emancipation Proclamation, to support Grant and Stanton against the clamor of the politicians and the press.

Abraham Lincoln's boyhood was a constant struggle with poverty. He had little education and no influential friends. When he finally began practicing law, he showed great courage by joining the weaker political side. In doing so, he risked the small reputation he had gained. As President, he needed the highest moral courage to stand firm against hostile criticism and a long series of disasters. He also needed that courage to issue the Emancipation Proclamation and to support Grant and Stanton against the outcry from politicians and the press.

Lincoln never shrank from espousing an unpopular cause when he believed it to be right. At the time when it almost cost a young lawyer his bread and butter to defend the fugitive slave, and when other lawyers had refused, Lincoln would always plead the cause of the unfortunate whenever an opportunity presented. "Go to Lincoln," people would say, when these hounded fugitives were seeking protection; "he's not afraid of any cause, if it's right."

Lincoln never hesitated to support an unpopular cause when he believed it was right. In those days, defending a fugitive slave could nearly cost a young lawyer his livelihood. Other lawyers refused to do it, but Lincoln always defended these unfortunate people when he had the chance. When these hunted fugitives sought protection, people would say, "Go to Lincoln. He's not afraid of any cause, if it's right."

As Salmon P. Chase left the court room after an impassioned plea for the runaway slave girl Matilda, a man looked at him in surprise and said: "There goes a fine young fellow who has just ruined himself." But in thus ruining himself Chase had taken the first important step in a career in which he became Governor of Ohio, United States Senator from Ohio, Secretary of the United States Treasury, and Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court.

Salmon P. Chase had made a passionate plea for Matilda, a runaway slave girl. As he left the courtroom, a man looked at him in surprise and said: "There goes a fine young man who has just ruined himself." But by "ruining himself," Chase had taken the first important step in a remarkable career. He became Governor of Ohio, United States Senator from Ohio, Secretary of the United States Treasury, and Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court.

At the trial of William Penn for having spoken at a Quaker meeting, the recorder, not satisfied with the first verdict, said to the jury: "We will have a verdict by the help of God, or you shall starve for it." "You are Englishmen," said Penn; "mind your privileges, give not away your right." At last the jury, after two days and two nights without food, returned a verdict of "Not guilty." The recorder fined them forty marks apiece for their independence.

William Penn was tried for speaking at a Quaker meeting. The recorder was not satisfied with the jury’s first verdict. He told them, "With God’s help, we will have a verdict, or you will starve until you give one." Penn said, "You are Englishmen. Remember your privileges and do not give away your right." Finally, after two days and two nights without food, the jury returned a verdict of "Not guilty." The recorder fined each juror forty marks for their independence.

What cared Christ for the jeers of the crowd? The palsied hand moved, the blind saw, the leper was made whole, the dead spake, despite the ridicule and scoffs of the spectators.

Why did Christ care about the crowd’s jeers? Despite the spectators’ ridicule and mockery, the paralyzed hand moved, the blind saw, the leper was healed, and the dead spoke.

What cared Wendell Phillips for rotten eggs, derisive scorn, and hisses? In him "at last the scornful world had met its match." Were Beecher and Gough to be silenced by the rude English mobs that came to extinguish them? No! they held their ground and compelled unwilling thousands to hear and to heed. Did Anna Dickinson leave the platform when the pistol bullets of the Molly Maguires flew about her head? She silenced those pistols by her courage and her arguments.

Why should Wendell Phillips care about rotten eggs, mocking scorn, and hisses? In him "at last the scornful world had met its match." Would Beecher and Gough be silenced by the rowdy English mobs that came to shut them down? No! They stood their ground and forced thousands of unwilling listeners to hear and pay attention. Did Anna Dickinson leave the platform when the Molly Maguires fired pistol bullets around her head? She silenced those pistols with her courage and her arguments.

What the world wants is a Knox, who dares to preach on with a musket leveled at his head; a Garrison, who is not afraid of a jail, or a mob, or a scaffold erected in front of his door.

The world needs a Knox, who dares to keep preaching with a musket aimed at his head. It needs a Garrison, who is not afraid of jail, a mob, or a scaffold erected in front of his door.

When General Butler was sent with nine thousand men to quell the New York riots, he arrived in advance of his troops, and found the streets thronged with an angry mob, which had already hanged several men to lamp-posts. Without waiting for his men, Butler went to the place where the crowd was most dense, overturned an ash barrel, stood upon it, and began: "Delegates from Five Points, fiends from hell, you have murdered your superiors," and the bloodstained crowd quailed before the courageous words of a single man in a city which Mayor Fernando Wood could not restrain with the aid of police and militia.

General Butler was sent with nine thousand men to stop the New York riots. He arrived ahead of his troops and found the streets packed with an angry mob. The mob had already hanged several men from lampposts. Without waiting for his men, Butler went to the thickest part of the crowd. He overturned an ash barrel, stood on it, and began: "Delegates from Five Points, fiends from hell, you have murdered your superiors." The bloodstained crowd shrank back before the brave words of this one man. Yet Mayor Fernando Wood had been unable to control the city, even with the help of police and militia.

"Our enemies are before us," exclaimed the Spartans at Thermopylae. "And we are before them." was the cool reply of Leonidas. "Deliver your arms," came the message from Xerxes. "Come and take them," was the answer Leonidas sent back. A Persian soldier said: "You will not be able to see the sun for flying javelins and arrows." "Then we will fight in the shade," replied a Lacedemonian. What wonder that a handful of such men checked the march of the greatest host that ever trod the earth!

"Our enemies are in front of us," cried the Spartans at Thermopylae. "And we are in front of them," Leonidas calmly replied. "Surrender your weapons," came the message from Xerxes. "Come and take them," Leonidas answered. A Persian soldier said: "You will not be able to see the sun because of the flying javelins and arrows." "Then we will fight in the shade," replied a Lacedemonian. No wonder a handful of such men stopped the advance of the greatest army that ever walked the earth!

"It is impossible," said a staff officer, when Napoleon gave directions for a daring plan. "Impossible!" thundered the great commander, "impossible is the adjective of fools!"

"It is impossible," said a staff officer when Napoleon gave orders for a daring plan. "Impossible!" thundered the great commander. "Impossible is the adjective of fools!"

The courageous man is an example to the intrepid. His influence is magnetic. Men follow him, even to the death.

A courageous man sets an example for the brave. His influence draws people to him. Men follow him, even to death.

Men who have dared have moved the world, often before reaching the prime of life. It is astonishing what daring to begin and perseverance have enabled even youths to achieve. Alexander, who ascended the throne at twenty, had conquered the known world before dying at thirty-three. Julius Caesar captured eight hundred cities, conquered three hundred nations, defeated three million men, became a great orator and one of the greatest statesmen known, and still was a young man. Washington was appointed adjutant-general at nineteen, was sent at twenty-one as an ambassador to treat with the French, and won his first battle as a colonel at twenty-two. Lafayette was made general of the whole French Army at twenty. Charlemagne was master of France and Germany at thirty. Galileo was but eighteen when he saw the principle of the pendulum in the swing lamp in the cathedral at Pisa. Peel was in Parliament at twenty-one. Gladstone was in Parliament before he was twenty-two, and at twenty-four he was Lord of the Treasury. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was proficient in Greek and Latin at twelve; De Quincey at eleven. Robert Browning wrote at eleven poetry of no mean order. Cowley, who sleeps in Westminster Abbey, published a volume of poems at fifteen. Luther was but twenty-nine when he nailed his famous thesis to the door of the bishop and defied the pope. Nelson was a lieutenant in the British Navy before he was twenty. He was but forty-seven when he received his death wound at Trafalgar. At thirty-six, Cortez was the conqueror of Mexico; at thirty-two, Clive had established the British power in India. Hannibal, the greatest of military commanders, was only thirty when, at Cannae, he dealt an almost annihilating blow at the republic of Rome, and Napoleon was only twenty-seven when, on the plains of Italy, he outgeneraled and defeated, one after another, the veteran marshals of Austria.

Men who dared to act have changed the world, often before reaching the prime of life. It is astonishing what even young people have achieved by daring to begin and persevering. Alexander took the throne at twenty. He had conquered the known world before he died at thirty-three. While still a young man, Julius Caesar captured eight hundred cities, conquered three hundred nations, and defeated three million men. He also became a great orator and one of the greatest statesmen known. Washington was appointed adjutant-general at nineteen. At twenty-one, he was sent as an ambassador to negotiate with the French. At twenty-two, he won his first battle as a colonel. Lafayette was made general of the entire French Army at twenty. Charlemagne was master of France and Germany at thirty. Galileo was only eighteen when he recognized the principle of the pendulum in a swinging lamp in the cathedral at Pisa. Peel was in Parliament at twenty-one. Gladstone entered Parliament before he was twenty-two and became Lord of the Treasury at twenty-four. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was proficient in Greek and Latin at twelve, and De Quincey was proficient in both at eleven. At eleven, Robert Browning wrote poetry of considerable merit. Cowley, who is buried in Westminster Abbey, published a volume of poems at fifteen. Luther was only twenty-nine when he nailed his famous thesis to the bishop's door and defied the pope. Nelson was a lieutenant in the British Navy before he was twenty. He was only forty-seven when he received his fatal wound at Trafalgar. Cortez conquered Mexico at thirty-six, and Clive had established British power in India at thirty-two. Hannibal, the greatest of military commanders, was only thirty when he dealt the Roman republic an almost annihilating blow at Cannae. Napoleon was only twenty-seven when he outmaneuvered and defeated Austria's veteran marshals, one after another, on the plains of Italy.

Equal courage and resolution are often shown by men who have passed the allotted limit of life. Victor Hugo and Wellington were both in their prime after they had reached the age of threescore years and ten. Gladstone ruled England with a strong hand at eighty-four, and was a marvel of literary and scholarly ability.

Men who have lived beyond the usual span of life often show equal courage and determination. Victor Hugo and Wellington were both in their prime after age seventy. Gladstone ruled England firmly at eighty-four and showed remarkable literary and scholarly ability.

Shakespeare says: "He is not worthy of the honeycomb that shuns the hive because the bees have stings."

Shakespeare says: "Anyone who avoids the hive because bees can sting is not worthy of the honeycomb."

Many a bright youth has accomplished nothing of worth to himself or the world simply because he did not dare to commence things.

Many a bright young person has achieved nothing of value to himself or the world simply because he did not dare to begin.

Begin! Begin! Begin!!!

Begin! Begin! Begin!!!

Whatever people may think of you, do that which you believe to be right. Be alike indifferent to censure or praise.—PYTHAGORAS.

Whatever people think of you, do what you believe is right. Be equally indifferent to criticism and praise. PYTHAGORAS.

For man's great actions are performed in minor struggles. There are obstinate and unknown braves who defend themselves inch by inch in the shadows against the fatal invasion of want and turpitude. There are noble and mysterious triumphs which no eye sees, no renown rewards, and no flourish of trumpets salutes. Life, misfortune, isolation, abandonment, and poverty are battlefields which have their heroes.—VICTOR HUGO.

People perform their greatest deeds in small struggles. Unknown, determined heroes fight back inch by inch in the shadows against the deadly advance of poverty and corruption. There are noble, mysterious victories that no one sees, no fame rewards, and no trumpets announce. Life, misfortune, isolation, abandonment, and poverty are battlefields with heroes of their own. VICTOR HUGO.

Quit yourselves like men.—1 SAMUEL iv. 9.

Act like men. 1 SAMUEL 4:9.