ed his letters patent to
pay his expenses home.

The boy Arkwright begins barbering in a cellar, but dies worth a
million and a half. The world treated his novelties just as it treats
everybody's novelties--made infinite objection, mustered all the
impediments, but he snapped his fingers at their objections, and lived
to become honored and wealthy.

There is scarcely a great truth or doctrine but has had to fight its
way to public recognition in the face of detraction, calumny, and
persecution.

Nearly every great discovery or invention that has blessed mankind has
had to fight its way to recognition, even against the opposition of the
most progressive men.

William H. Prescott was a remarkable example of what a boy with "no
chance" can do. While at college, he lost one eye by a hard piece of
bread thrown during a "biscuit battle," and the other eye became almost
useless. But the boy would not lead a useless life. He set his heart
upon being a historian, and turned all his energies in that direction.
By the aid of others' eyes, he spent ten years studying before he even
decided upon a particular theme for his first book. Then he spent ten
years more, poring over old archives and manuscripts, before he
published his "Ferdinand and Isabella." What a lesson in his life for
young men! What a rebuke to those who have thrown away their
opportunities and wasted their lives!

"Galileo with an opera-glass," said Emerson, "discovered a more
splendid series of celestial phenomena than any one since with the
great telescopes. Columbus found the new world in an undecked boat."

Surroundings which men call unfavorable can not prevent the unfolding
of your powers. From among the rock-ribbed hills of New Hampshire
sprang the greatest of American orators and statesmen, Daniel Webster.
From the crowded ranks of toil, and homes to which luxury is a
stranger, have often come the leaders and benefactors of our race.

Where shall we find an illustration more impressive than in Abraham
Lincoln, whose life, career, and death might be chanted by a Greek
chorus as at once the prelude and the epilogue of the most imperial
theme of modern times? Born as lowly as the Son of God, in a hovel; of
what real parentage we know not; reared in penury, squalor, with no
gleam of light, nor fair surrounding; a young manhood vexed by weird
dreams and visions; with scarcely a natural grace; singularly awkward,
ungainly even among the uncouth