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thing which needs no advocate but itself. Remember how many great writers have created the taste by which they were enjoyed, and do not be in a hurry. Toughen yourself a little, and accomplish something better. Inscribe above your desk the words of Rivarol, Genius is only great patience.""

His rules for speaking are: "Have something that you desire very much to say. . . . Always speak in a natural key and in a conversational manner. ... Never carry a scrap of paper before an audience. .. Plan out a series of a few points as simple and as orderly as possible. . . . Plan beforehand for one good fact and one good illustration under each head of your speech. . . . Do not torment yourself up to the last moment about your speech, but give your mind a rest before it."

Colonel Higginson, while essentially a man of letters, never forgets that he is in the world to help forward all that can elevate mankind. A ardent worker amid the past, he never forgets the living issues of the present. He has helped America in a thousand ways; her authors, her thinkers, her toilers.

He has taught us hope and courage and fearless advocacy of the right. He has taught us tolerance, pride in our own country, and the beauty and honor of an upright life. "The austere virtues — the virtues of Emerson, Hawthorne, Whittier are the best soil for genius." We must be scholars

but not recluses; we must keep in the sunlight of high ideals. "The soul," he says, "is like a musical instrument: it is not enough that it be framed for the very most delicate vibration, but it must vibrate long and often before the fibres grow mellow to the finest waves of sympathy." There

in is his secret; sympathy with mankind. He has striven all his life after the best things for the race; equal freedom for all, time to enjoy nature, and education for the poorest.

Too busy to waste time, he yet spends hours of delight on his tricycle with his pretty little daughter gaining fresh health and strength for future years. And those who know him best, love to think of him with his manly physique and kindly face, not on battle-fields, not in the whirl of politics, not in the seclusion of the student, but in his restful, happy home, gaining inspiration and cheer and comfort from his darling child, Margaret, for has he not said, "The height of heights is love"?

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RICHARD HENRY STODDARD.

IT

is interesting to note that all the authors previously mentioned in this book have been scholars, all had "that vast and omnivorous appetite for books which," says Thomas Wentworth Higginson, "is the most common sign of literary talent." They had also what Sainte-Beuve calls "the characteristic sign of literary natures, the faithful worship of genius."

Longfellow seemed conversant with the literature of all ages and all countries; Lowell, the same. Stoddard, though not a college-educated man, is one of the most widely read of our men of letters, having at his home, says the "Literary World," "a collection of the poets, ancient and modern, which of its kind has probably no equal. in America, the result of forty years collecting and study." "The true university of these days," says Carlyle, "is a collection of books."

Stedman says of him, "His knowledge of English literature, old and new, early became so valuable that his younger associates, drawn to him by admiration of his poetry, never failed to profit by his learning and suggestions. . . . The character

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