Look at the early days of Grant. There was no indication of unusual brightness in him. At West Point, where he was sent to military school, he did not stand at the head of his cla.s.ses. He only seemed an earnest worker, with plenty of determination. Later, when he lived on his little Illinois farm, there was nothing about him that pointed him out as the future great general. It was only when the great civil war broke out that he had an opportunity to show the kind of a man he was.

His only thought was to accomplish the task a.s.signed him, be it ever so difficult. This naturally found him in the line of promotion, and step by step he climbed higher, earning by hard work every step he gained, until he reached the highest office in the land.

Take Edison, the inventor. He was only a tramp telegrapher, but he was not satisfied with being anything but the best, and many are the stories of speed he attained in sending or receiving messages. He was inquisitive--wanted to know more of the mysteries of the electricity that carried his messages. He began experimenting, and by close application to his studies, has astonished the world with his telephone, phonograph and other inventions.

Now, these great men are not merely the products of chance. Not at all. Study each of them and you will find they were workers, gaining by just such struggles as you and I can make. We may not reach such distinction as these have reached, but rest a.s.sured there is just as great a demand now as ever for good, earnest men, and earnest, successful men grow from painstaking boys. The boy who, as clerk in the counting-house, watches after the interests of his employers, will be the coming merchant; the young man on the farm who slights not the work a.s.signed him, will own a farm of his own.

Let this lesson make an impression. The road to success may be rugged, but it is not so steep but that enough steps, if in the right direction, be they ever so short, will in time carry you a long way toward the top.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {A MOUNTAINOUS LANDSCAPE.}]

GARDEN OF THE G.o.dS.

This, one of the grandest of American natural sceneries, is located along the Colorado River. The river, in its years and years of flowing, has washed out the soil, and owing to the peculiar composition of the ground has washed it away unevenly, and these standing peaks are so numerous and so fantastic in form, that this location has been called the Garden of the G.o.ds. It is most impressive and inspiring grandeur. A trip will well repay a journey from the most remote parts of our country to see this view, only a little of which is in the engraving.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A STRANGE STUDIO.]

YOUNG ARTIST.

Albert, the blacksmith's son, will be an artist some day. While other boys are playing ball or skating, or other amus.e.m.e.nts, Albert is using his time making pictures. He seems to delight in it, and even when quite a small boy, many were the scoldings he received from his parents for a too free use of his chalk and pencil, leaving his rude drawings on wall and fences; and in school his troubles were only increased, for his books always contained pictures, sometimes of horses, or dogs, or of his friends. This habit did not correspond with his teachers' ideas of tidiness, and punishment followed punishment.

It did not help matters, though, and his drawing continued. In time he became quite apt and could make pictures that very closely resembled the objects he drew. His companions called him the "artist," and they would have him make pictures of them. Some of his methods were odd enough. To make an outline of a boy's face he would tack a piece of paper on the side of a door in his father's shop, and by placing the boy between the paper and a lighted lamp, would trace with pencil the outline of the shadow as it fell on the paper. Soon he tried painting with paint and brush. At first his efforts were crude, and to anyone less determined and enthusiastic, discouraging. Not so to Albert. He worked along day after day, and in time could paint well enough to attract some notice in his little village.

About this time a great artist from the city, spending the summer in this part of the country, heard of Albert, and by accident met him.

Quick to perceive the natural talent of the boy, and being generously inclined, he offered to take him to his city home and give him training in his studio. The parents, though loth to be separated from their son, saw here an opportunity to educate him in his favorite study, and so accepted the offer.

You can well imagine Albert's surprise and delight when he first entered the studio and saw the work of the master. How the great paintings filled him with wonder. He proved an apt student, a true artist, and year after year worked with patience and determination, and became a noted painter.

He often thinks of his early days--of the pictures he made in the old blacksmith shop. He thinks, too, of the years spent since then in attaining prominence in his calling, but no regrets come to him.

The true story of how one boy succeeded can be of use to others. It only takes this same perseverance and pluck to succeed in any other calling. Had he complained because he could not paint like the master, and not been contented to study on during these years, he could not now lay claim to his present success and eminence as an artist. Let others, in reading this, see in it an object, and may it bring to them new resolve to succeed in the life work they have started on.

Life is what we make it, and not a matter of chance. By marking out a future success we expect to accomplish,--by sticking closely to this one idea, and bending every energy to attain it, we can come approximately near accomplishing our undertaking.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {ORNAMENTAL PATTERN.}]

A CHANCE WORD.

Ralph and Lily had one game of which they never tired, and that was "horses." It was really a convenient game, for it could be played on wet or fine days, in the nursery or on the road. Perhaps it was best fun on the road, "like real horses;" but I am not sure, for it was very delightful to sit on the nursery table, with the box of bricks for a coachman's seat, and from that elevated position to drive the spirited four horses represented by the four chairs, to which the reins would be fastened.

One day--a fine day--the two children were playing at their usual game on the turnpike road, and waiting for nurse, who had gone into a cottage near by to speak to the washerwoman. Nurse was a long time, and Ralph, who was horse, was quite out of breath with his long trot on the hard road. Lily touched him up with the whip, but all to no avail--he could run no more.

"I've no breath left," said the poor horse, sinking down exhausted on a heap of stones.

Lily put down the whip and patted his head to encourage him. "Soh!

soh!" she said, in as good an imitation as she could manage of the way the groom spoke to their father's horse; "you are quite done, I see.

You must rest, and have a handful of oats," and she dived into her pocket and produced a bit of biscuit, which the horse ate with great satisfaction, and soon professed himself ready to go on again. "Ah!"

said Lily, sagely, "I knew you'd be all right soon; there's nothing like food and kindness for horses when they're tired."

A tinker, with a cart and a poor, ill-fed beast harnessed to it, happened to be pa.s.sing, and heard the little girl's words. He stared after her, for she seemed very small to speak so wisely, and the tinker did not, of course, know that she was only repeating what she had heard her father say.

"Well, I'm dazed!" exclaimed the tinker, looking after the children; "wherever did little Missy learn that?"

He said no more then; but Lily's words stuck to him, and his poor horse had reason to bless Lily for them, for from that day forward he got, not only more food, but more kindness and fewer blows and so he became a better horse, and the tinker the better man in consequence.

A LITTLE DANCE.

Oh, it is fun! Oh, it is fun!

To dress ourselves up, as Grandma has done.

See how we go! See how we go!

Forward and back, heel and toe.

Lighter than down, our feet come down Mind all your steps, and hold out your gown; Faster than that, whatever may hap, Cherry red waist and blue speckled cap.

Hi! Master John! Ho! Master John!

Don't go to sleep, while the music goes on; Faster than that! Faster than that!

Hold up your head, and flourish your hat!

How she trips it along, that bright little maid, With her dainty blue skirt and spotted brocade; And that one in yellow, who wears the red rose How she keeps her mouth shut and turns out her toes.

How they do spin! when they truly begin; Each dancer as airy and bright as a doll; While the music complete, keeps time to their feet, With its fiddle-dee-diddle and tol-de-rol-ol!

Oh, it is fun! Oh, it is fun!

To dance, when every duty is done; Forward and back, or all in a ring, A quick little dance is a very gay thing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {A PORTRAIT OF JOE; JOE AND CHARLEY BY A TREE.}]

LOOKING OUT FOR NUMBER ONE.

OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.