omes, they look around for
somebody to lean upon. If the prop is not there down they go. Once
down, they are as helpless as capsized turtles, or unhorsed men in
armor. Many a frontier boy has succeeded beyond all his expectations
simply because all props were knocked out from under him and he was
obliged to stand upon his own feet.

"A man's best friends are his ten fingers," said Robert Collyer, who
brought his wife to America in the steerage. Young men who are always
looking for something to lean upon never amount to anything.

There is no manhood mill which takes in boys and turns out men. What
you call "no chance" may be your "only chance." Don't wait for your
place to be made for you; make it yourself. Don't wait for somebody to
give you a lift; lift yourself. Henry Ward Beecher did not wait for a
call to a big church with a large salary. He accepted the first
pastorate offered him, in a little town near Cincinnati. He became
literally the light of the church, for he trimmed the lamps, kindled
the fires, swept the rooms, and rang the bell. His salary was only
about $200 a year,--but he knew that a fine church and great salary
cannot make a great man. It was work and opportunity that he wanted.
He felt that if there was anything in him work would bring it out.

"Physiologists tell us," says Waters, "that it takes twenty-eight years
for the brain to attain its full development. If this is so, why
should not one be able, by his own efforts, to give this long-growing
organ a particular bent, a peculiar character? Why should the will not
be brought to bear upon the formation of the brain as well as of the
backbone?" The will is merely our steam power, and we may put it to
any work we please. It will do our bidding, whether it be building up
a character, or tearing it down. It may be applied to building up a
habit of truthfulness and honesty, or of falsehood and dishonor. It
will help build up a man or a brute, a hero or a coward. It will brace
up resolution until one may almost perform miracles, or it may be
dissipated in irresolution and inaction until life is a wreck. It will
hold you to your task until you have formed a powerful habit of
industry and application, until idleness and inaction are painful, or
it will lead you into indolence and listlessness until every effort
will be disagreeable and success impossible.

"The first thing I have to impress upon you is," says J. T. Davidson,
"that