he
said, "at the rate of a line a week."

When a young lawyer, Daniel Webster once looked in vain through all the
libraries near him, and then ordered at an expense of $50 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 $15, 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. Webster 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
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: "Mr. Webster,
have you been consulted before in this case?"

"Most certainly not. I never heard of your case till this evening."

"Very well," said Burr, "proceed." 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.

What the age wants is men who have the nerve and the grit to work and
wait, whether the world applaud or hiss. It wants a Bancroft, who can
spend twenty-six years on the "History of the United States;" a Noah
Webster, who can devote thirty-six years to a dictionary; a Gibbon, who
can plod for twenty years on the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire;"
a Mirabeau, who can struggle on for forty years before he has a chance
to show 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 Garfield, burning his lamp fifteen
minutes later than a rival student in his academy; a Grant, fighting on
in heroic silence, when denounced by his brother generals and
politicians everywhere; a Field's untiring perseverance, spending years
and a fortune laying a cable when all the world called him a fool; 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 Titian, spending seven years on the "Last Supper;" a Stephenson,
working fifteen year