-general of Tennessee, United States minister to
Constantinople, and, finally, postmaster-general.

Honorable ambition is the leaven that raises the whole mass of mankind.
Ideals, visions, are the stepping-stones by which we rise to higher
things.

"Still, through our paltry stir and strife,
Glows down the wished ideal,
And longing molds in clay what life
Carves in the marble real;

"To let the new life in, we know,
Desire must ope the portal,--
Perhaps the longing to be so
Helps make the soul immortal."

THE EVOLUTION OF A VIOLINIST

He was a famous artist whom kings and queens and emperors delighted to
honor. The emperor of all the Russias had sent him an affectionate
letter, written by his own hand; the empress, a magnificent emerald
ring set with diamonds; the king of his own beloved Norway, who had
listened reverently, standing with uncovered head, while he, the king
of violinists, played before him, had bestowed upon him the Order of
Vasa; the king of Copenhagen presented him with a gold snuffbox,
encrusted with diamonds; while, at a public dinner given him by the
students of Christiana, he was crowned with a laurel wreath. Not all
the thousands who thronged to hear him in London could gain entrance to
the concert hall, and in Liverpool he received four thousand dollars
for one evening's performance.

Yet the homage of the great ones of the earth, the princely gifts
bestowed upon him, the admiration of the thousands who hung entranced
on every note breathed by his magic violin, gave less delight than the
boy of fourteen experienced when he received from an old man, whose
heart his playing had gladdened, the present of four pairs of doves,
with a card suspended by a blue ribbon round the neck of one, bearing
his own name, "Ole Bull."

The soul of little Ole Bull had always been attuned to melody, from the
time when, a toddling boy of four, he had kissed with passionate
delight the little yellow violin given him by his uncle. How happy he
was, as he wandered alone through the meadows, listening with the inner
ear of heaven-born genius to the great song of nature. The bluebells,
the buttercups, and the blades of grass sang to him in low, sweet
tones, unheard by duller ears. How he thrilled with delight when he
touched the strings of the little red violin, purchased for him when he
was eight years old. His father destined him for the church, and,
fe