becomes rich and famous. But he is
a misfit in any vocation which deals wholly with concrete things.

DESCRIPTION OF THE IMPRACTICAL MAN

The impractical man is easily recognized. He may be blonde or brunette,
large or small, fine textured or coarse textured, energetic or lazy,
aggressive or mild, friendly or unfriendly, ambitious or unambitious,
honest or dishonest--but his mark is upon his forehead. If his brows are
flat or if his forehead immediately above and at the sides of his eyes is
undeveloped or only a little developed, his powers of observation are
deficient. He is not interested in facts and his judgment is based upon
hasty and mistaken premises. As a general rule, in such cases, the upper
part of the forehead is well developed. This is always the case if the man
is intelligent. If the forehead is both low and retreating and flat at the
brows, then the individual lacks both power of observation and reasoning
power, and is very deficient in intellect.

Figures 27 and 28 and 29 and 30 show some very common types of the
impractical man. Note the flatness of the brows in every case. Figures 32,
50, and 54 show the foreheads of practical men.

CHAPTER IX

HUNGRY FOR FAME

The born artist has a passion for creation. This is true whether his art
expresses itself through paints and brushes, through chisel and stone, on
the stage, through musical tones, through bricks and mortar, or through
the printed page. The born artist may or may not have, as companion to his
passion for creation, a hunger for fame, an ear which adores applause. Few
artists, however, have ever become famous who were not spurred on by an
eager desire for the plaudits of their fellows.

It is possible to have the passion for creation without the hunger for
fame. It is also possible to have a hunger for fame without the passion
for creation. In the "Light That Failed," Kipling tells of little Maisie,
who toiled and struggled, not to create beauty, but for success. Yet, poor
Dick, who loved her, was forced to admit that there was no special reason
why her work should be done at all.

Horace Annesley Vachell, in "Brothers," tells the story of Mark Samphire's
tragedy. "When, after three years of most gruelling, hard work as an art
student, he turned to his great master and asked: 'When you were here last
you said to a friend of mine that it was fortunate for me that I had
independent means. You are my master; you have seen everything