roceed"; and, when he
had finished, Webster received a fee that paid him liberally for all
the time and trouble he had spent for his early client.

Albert Bierstadt first crossed the Rocky Mountains with a band of
pioneers in 1859, making sketches for the paintings of Western scenes
for which he had become famous. As he followed the trail to Pike's
Peak, he gazed in wonder upon the enormous herds of buffaloes which
dotted the plains as far as the eye could reach, and thought of the
time when they would have disappeared before the march of civilization.
The thought haunted him and found its final embodiment in "The Last of
the Buffaloes" in 1890. To perfect this great work he had spent twenty
years.

Everything which endures, which will stand the test of time, must have
a deep, solid foundation. In Rome the foundation is often the most
expensive part of an edifice, so deep must they dig to build on the
living rock.

Fifty feet of Bunker Hill Monument is under ground; unseen and
unappreciated by those who tread about that historic shaft, but it is
this foundation, apparently thrown away, which enables it to stand
upright, true to the plumb-line through all the tempests that lash its
granite sides. A large part of every successful life must be spent in
laying foundation stones underground. Success is the child of drudgery
and perseverance and depends upon "knowing how long it takes to
succeed."

Endurance is a much better test of character than any one act of
heroism, however noble.

The pianist Thalberg said he never ventured to perform one of his
celebrated pieces in public until he had played it at least fifteen
hundred times. He laid no claim whatever to genius; he said it was all
a question of hard work. The accomplishments of such industry, such
perseverance, would put to shame many a man who claims genius.

Before Edmund Kean would consent to appear in that character which he
acted with such consummate skill, The Gentleman Villain, he practised
constantly before a glass, studying expression for a year and a half.
When he appeared upon the stage, Byron, who went with Moore to see him,
said he never looked upon so fearful and wicked a face. As the great
actor went on to delineate the terrible consequences of sin, Byron
fainted.

"For years I was in my place of business by sunrise," said a wealthy
banker who had begun without a dollar; "and often I did not leave it
for fifteen or eighteen hours."

P