risen to eminence in spite of personal disadvantages. When Beaconsfield, stammering through his first parliamentary argument, was at length coughed down by his jeering audience and compelled to take his seat, he exclaimed: “I yield to your ridicule to-day, but the time shall come when you will be glad to listen to me." If we may believe the stories which have been handed down to us, Demosthenes was accustomed for years to recite poems and orations as he ran up hill and to declaim in the face of the winds and the waves that he might strengthen his voice and lungs and overcome natural defects in his speech. It is safe to assert that no one ever attained to superiority who could not "screw his courage to the sticking-point." We develop our powers by overcoming the difficulties which confront us.

The solution of a difficult problem in mathematics, the first participation in a society debate, the successful dash in a football game, all

test and develop an ability to accomplish a purpose. "All progress," says von Ranke, the German historian, "whether of individuals or of nations, has been through conflict.”

ance.

A symmetrical character implies an even balance between self-confidence and modesty. An excess of either is a serious, often a fatal, barrier to success. He who is over-confident gives offense by his arrogance and neglects the preparation necessary to successful performHe who is self-distrustful cannot rouse his powers to their fullest exertion, magnifies the obstacles in his way and yields to difficulties which might be overcome. Henry Clay was content to be a grocer's clerk until he was suddenly awakened by a strange personal experience to the possibilities which lay slumbering within him. Then he roused. himself and determined to surmount every obstacle.

The true means of intellectual and

moral growth is, then, vigorous effort towards a definite end. A clear aim and an earnest purpose must go hand in hand. A certain half-truth current nowadays declares that we learn to do by doing,' and there is an old maxim which says that practice makes perfect. But it depends on the kind of practice whether it makes perfect or not. We do not always learn to do by doing. You have seen pages of school-boys' copy-books where every line grew poorer from the top to the bottom of the page. Sometimes practice results in listlessness, sometimes in celerity rather than in good work. There are men whose business requires them to sign their name so often and so rapidly that their signature is almost illegible. We find many persons who have done one thing so long that they do it poorly. They take little interest in their work and it becomes a dull routine. Mere repetition makes men mechanical rather than skilful. Practice makes

perfect when there is a definite aim. We must clearly apprehend the exact thing to be done; we must muster our energies to do it most effectually. Did you ever watch the pitcher in a baseball game? How his eye guides his hand as he sends the ball spinning past the bat? A good pitcher illustrates the kind of practice which makes perfect. The intellect and the will must unite in vigorous action if we are to learn to do by doing.

The conditions of mental growth are few and simple, but they are important. In general they are the same as those of physical growth. The body cannot grow without food; neither can the mind. The farmer fattens his steers by feeding them well; he cannot raise large animals without giving them an abundance of good food. But he also looks carefully to other conditions. He gives them appropriate exercise. If one of his colts is to be a racer, he tests his speed from time to time on a good track. He notes the

effects of different kinds of food and different forms of exercise.

The training of a thinker involves the same conditions as the training of a racer. The student must have mental nourishment, food for thought; that is, he must learn facts. Lack of information causes feeble thinking, obscure thinking. It is only when facts are clearly apprehended, when they are known in their relations, that they will be fairly and vigorously considered. But practice, judicious exercise, is also needed. The mind must be trained to ease and clearness in acquiring information; it should be nimble and Argus-eyed; it should also sift and classify its acquisitions. Unclassified knowledge, unassimilated facts, hinder and enfeeble thought. It is only when truth is seen in its relations that it truly educates.

Mistakes have often been made just at this point. Some have over-estimated the importance of acquiring facts; others