"If I were to promise you a holiday on the thirtieth of the month after the next, do you think that you would forget it?"

"No, I am pretty sure that I should not."

"And why, George?"

"I can't exactly tell the reason; but I know I should remember it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: GEORGE AND HIS FATHER.]

"Well, I can tell you. The pleasure you would take in the idea of having a holiday, would keep the date of it fresh in your memory. Now, if you were to take the same delight in learning that you do in playing, you would find no difficulty. You play at marbles well, I believe?"

"Oh yes, father; I beat every boy at school!"

"And your brother tells me that your kite flies highest; and that you are first in skating?"

"Yes, my kite always flies the best; and I can cut every figure, from one to nine, and form every letter in the alphabet, on the ice."

"You are very fond of skating, and flying your kite, and playing at ball and marbles?"

"Yes, father; too fond, I believe, for a boy of my age."

"And yet you cannot learn your Latin lesson. My dear boy, you are deceiving yourself; you can learn as well as any one, if you will only try."

"But have I not tried, father?" again urged George.

"Well, try again. Come, lay aside that kite you are making for this afternoon, and give another effort to get your lesson ready. Be in earnest, and you will soon learn it. To show you that it only requires perseverance, I will tell you a story. One of the dullest boys at a village school, more than thirty years ago, came up to repeat his lesson one morning, and, as usual, did not know it. 'Go to your seat, you blockhead!' said the teacher, pettishly. 'You will never be fit for anything but a scavenger. I wonder what they send such a stupid dunce here for!'

"The poor dispirited boy stole off to his seat, and bent his eyes again upon his lesson.

"'It is no use. I cannot learn,' he said in a whisper to a companion who sat near him.

"'You must try hard,' replied the sympathizing and kind-hearted boy.

"'I have tried, and it is no use. I may just as well give it up at once.'

"'Try again, Henry!' whispered his companion in an earnest and encouraging tone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TRY AGAIN.]

"These two little words gave him a fresh impulse, and he bent his mind with renewed effort to his task. It was only the simple memorizing of a grammar lesson--not difficult by any means. The concentration of his mind upon the task was more earnest and fixed than usual; gradually he began to find the sentences lingering in his memory, and soon, to his surprise and pleasure, the whole lesson was mastered. With a livelier motion and a more confident manner than he had ever before exhibited in going up to say a lesson, he rose from his seat and proceeded to the teacher's desk.

"'What do you want now?' asked that person, harshly.

"'To say my lesson, sir.'

"'Go off to your seat!--Did you not try half-an-hour ago?'

"'Yes; but I _can_ say it now, sir,' timidly urged the boy.

"'Go on, then; and if you miss a sentence, you shall have six bad marks.'

"Henry commenced, and said off the whole lesson rapidly, without missing a word. The master cast on him a look of pleasure, as he handed him back his book, but said nothing. As the boy returned to his seat, his step was lighter, for his heart beat with a new impulse.

"'Did you say it?' whispered his kind-hearted school-mate.

"'Every word,' replied the boy proudly.

"'Then you see you can learn.'

"'Yes; but it is hard work.'

"'But there is nothing like trying.'

"'No; and from this hour,' replied Henry firmly, 'I will never say I cannot.'

"From that day," continued Mr. Prentice, "there was no boy in the school who learned more rapidly than Henry. It required much thought and application; but these he gave cheerfully, and success crowned his efforts."

"And did he always continue thus to learn?" asked George, looking up into his father's face.

"From that day, to the present hour, he has been a student; and now urges his son George to 'try again,' as he tried."

"And was it indeed _you_, father?" asked his son, eagerly looking up into the face of his kind parent.

"Yes, my child; that dull boy was your own father in his early years."

"Then _I will_ try again," said George, in a decided tone; and flinging aside his half-made kite, he turned and re-entered the house, and was soon bending in earnest attention over his Latin grammar.

"Well, what success, George?" asked Mr. Prentice, as the family gathered around the well-furnished tea-table.

"I've got the lesson, father!" replied the boy. "I can say every word of it."

"You found it pretty hard work?"

"Not so very hard after I had once made up my mind that I _would_ learn it. Indeed, I never stopped to think, as I usually do, about it being difficult or tiresome; but went right on until I had mastered every sentence."

"May you never forget this lesson, my son!" said Mr. Prentice feelingly.

"You possess now the secret of success. It lies in your never stopping to think about a task being difficult or tiresome; but in going on steadily in the performance of it, with a fixed determination to succeed. Within a short time you have mastered a task that you despaired of ever learning at all. And now, George, remember, never again utter the words, _I can't_."

The success that had rewarded his own determined efforts, united with the impulse that the simple reference of his father to his own early difficulties gave to his mind, was sufficient to make George a rapid learner from that day. He became interested in his studies, and therefore he succeeded in them. When he left college, at the age of eighteen, he bore with him the highest honours of the inst.i.tution, and the respect of his teachers. He now entered the house of a merchant, to prepare for a business life. At first, his new occupation was by no means pleasant. The change from books and studies to busy life, and the dull details of trade, as he called them, was for a time exceedingly irksome.

"I shall never make a merchant, I fear," he said to his father one evening, when he felt unusually wearied with his occupation.

"And why not, George?" asked Mr. Prentice kindly.

"I have no taste for it," replied the young man.

"That is a poor reason. Is it not an honest and honourable calling?"