e minutes," objected the rich man. "Yes, but it took me thirty
years to learn how to do it in five minutes."

What the age wants is men who have the nerve and the grit to work and
wait, whether the world applaud or hiss; a Mirabeau, who can struggle
on for forty years before he has a chance to show the world his vast
reserve, destined to shake an empire; a Farragut, a Von Moltke, who
have the persistence to work and wait for half a century for their
first great opportunities; a Grant, fighting on in heroic silence, when
denounced by his brother generals and politicians everywhere; a Michael
Angelo, working seven long years decorating the Sistine Chapel with his
matchless "Creation" and the "Last Judgment," refusing all remuneration
therefor, lest his pencil might catch the taint of avarice; a Thurlow
Weed, walking two miles through the snow with rags tied around his feet
for shoes, to borrow the history of the French Revolution, and eagerly
devouring it before the sap-bush fire; a Milton, elaborating "Paradise
Lost" in a world he could not see; a Thackeray, struggling on
cheerfully after his "Vanity Fair" was refused by a dozen publishers; a
Balzac, toiling and waiting in a lonely garret; men whom neither
poverty, debt, nor hunger could discourage or intimidate; not daunted
by privations, not hindered by discouragements. It wants men who can
work and wait.

When a young lawyer Daniel Webster once looked in vain through all the
law libraries near him, and then ordered at an expense of fifty dollars
the necessary books, to obtain authorities and precedents in a case in
which his client was a poor blacksmith. He won his case, but, on
account of the poverty of his client, only charged fifteen dollars,
thus losing heavily on the books bought, to say nothing of his time.
Years after, as he was passing through New York City, he was consulted
by Aaron Burr on an important but puzzling case then pending before the
Supreme Court. He saw in a moment that it was just like the
blacksmith's case, an intricate question of title, which he had solved
so thoroughly that it was to him now as simple as the multiplication
table. Going back to the time of Charles II he gave the law and
precedents involved with such readiness and accuracy of sequence that
Burr asked in great surprise if he had been consulted before in the
case. "Most certainly not," he replied, "I never heard of your case
till this evening." "Very well," said Burr, "p