the Florida "cracker," as they call a
certain ne'er-do-weel portion of the population down there, when passing
through the State in a train, asked some one to point out a "cracker" to
him. The man asked replied, "Well, if you see something off in the woods
that looks brown, like a stump, you will know it is either a stump or a
cracker; if it moves, it is a stump."

Now, movement has no virtue in itself. Change is not worth while for its
own sake. I am not one of those who love variety for its own sake. If a
thing is good to-day, I should like to have it stay that way to-morrow.
Most of our calculations in life are dependent upon things staying the way
they are. For example, if, when you got up this morning, you had forgotten
how to dress, if you had forgotten all about those ordinary things which
you do almost automatically, which you can almost do half awake, you would
have to find out what you did yesterday. I am told by the psychologists
that if I did not remember who I was yesterday, I should not know who I am
to-day, and that, therefore, my very identity depends upon my being able
to tally to-day with yesterday. If they do not tally, then I am confused;
I do not know who I am, and I have to go around and ask somebody to tell
me my name and where I came from.

I am not one of those who wish to break connection with the past; I am
not one of those who wish to change for the mere sake of variety. The only
men who do that are the men who want to forget something, the men who
filled yesterday with something they would rather not recollect to-day,
and so go about seeking diversion, seeking abstraction in something that
will blot out recollection, or seeking to put something into them which
will blot out all recollection. Change is not worth while unless it is
improvement. If I move out of my present house because I do not like it,
then I have got to choose a better house, or build a better house, to
justify the change.

It would seem a waste of time to point out that ancient
distinction,--between mere change and improvement. Yet there is a class of
mind that is prone to confuse them. We have had political leaders whose
conception of greatness was to be forever frantically doing something,--it
mattered little what; restless, vociferous men, without sense of the
energy of concentration, knowing only the energy of succession. Now, life
does not consist of eternally running to a fire. There is no virtue in
going anywhere