he enemy of
humanity until he is killed or captured; then he is your dear brother
or fellow soldier beaten or ashamed, whom you should no further
humiliate." He told them that it was necessary to keep their heads clear
and cool, to be of good cheer, to suffer in silence, to dread defeat,
but not wounds, to fear dishonor, but not death, and to die game.
Because so many of the soldiers under him heeded this wise admonition,
they did not waste their precious strength on useless and harmful
emotions, but they were ever ready to go to their task, with the motto
of their division, "It shall be done."

What a blessing it will be to the world that millions of young men were
trained in France to repress hurtful emotion, to exercise
self-restraint--which may be defined as the act or process of holding
back or hindering oneself from harmful thoughts or actions. And what a
wonderful thing it will be if the lesson is passed on to us, so that we
shall not be like the torrent that wastes its power by rushing and
brawling over the stones, all to no purpose, but like the harnessed
stream whose energy is made to turn the wheels of factory and mill. For
only guarded and guided strength is useful and safe.

II

EFFACING SELF

"Every man that falls must understand beforehand that he is a dead man
and nothing can save him. It is useless for him to cry out, and it may,
by giving the alarm, cause the enterprise to fail."

This was the message to his men of the officer to whom Napoleon
committed the capture of Mt. Cenis.

The historian tells us that at one point in the ascent of a precipitous
track, three men fell. "Their bodies were heard bounding from crag to
crag, but not a cry was heard, not a moan. The body of one hero was
recovered later. There was a smile on his lips."

How that record of the silence succeeded by a smile grips the heart, for
it was not the false courage that plays to the grandstand, but the
deeper, truer courage that sinks self for the good of others, and does
this not merely because it is a part of the game, but with the gladness
that transfigures life.

Such courage does not wait for some great occasion for exhibiting
itself; it is revealed in the midst of the humdrum routine of daily
life--a routine that is especially trying to those who have been
looking forward to some great, perhaps dramatic service.

A young man of seventeen entered the navy, with his parents' consent, as
an apprentice. When he left