The Tragedy and Triumph of Youth, III: Get an Inspiration and Follow It

THE TRAGEDY AND TRIUMPH OF YOUTH. BY J. E. HICKMAN, A.M., PRESIDENT OF THE MURDOCK ACADEMY. III.— GET AN INSPIRATION AND FOLLOW IT. Just a moment, young fellow, I mean you, who are slinking across the street yonder with a cigarette in your mouth. What would you like to become? You say you don't know. Haven't you an ambition to become great? You say, "Haven't thought of it!" You say that you have never had a longing to become distinguished among men, nor to follow any profession, nor to carry a message of truth to a fallen world; well, I fear you never will as long as you blight your life with that deadening narcotic. Thank you. Good day. Dear reader, have you ever seen him? Does he live in your town? I am sure you will agree with me in saying that one youth with inspiration will accomplish more than a dozen without it. The forces that compel activity are from two sources — the external and the internal. The external is the pressure from without, due either to personal influence or to other environments, such as poverty, misfortune, danger, etc. When one is impressed by these alone, he never gets the most out of life. If a farmer, very likely he is a failure. If a merchant, he will probably become bankrupt. If a student, he will be a laggard. If a teacher, he will be excluded from the profession. If a Christian, he seldom worships. The horse which is impelled only by the whip makes a poor driver. It is the one filled with energy that is admired. It is the man with an inspiration — an ideal — who forges ahead ""in season and out of season." It is he who hears the call from Si-

232 1MPR 0 VEMENT ERA . nai, bidding him come up to other heights. The difference between the thrifty citizen and the tramp — the ardent student and the sniveling, indifferent boy — is not so much a difference of brains as of inspiration. Columbus said there was a divine fire burning within him urging him on to his discovery. In a slightly different sense, there is a hidden world for every youth to discover. No one can take him to it. No one can pilot him on his way. He must be his own pilot and his own captain. Parents and friends may urge, and, with frantic pleadings, crowd him on; but he will never see the world which is for him to discover until that soul awakening comes. Not long since a mother brought to me her son sixteen years of age. He was dead to any sense of progress; stolidly indifferent to her pleadings. He was unmoved alike by her threats, her tears, and her attempts to hire him. To him life was but a passive existence wherein the satisfying of morbid appetites and the following of idle pleasures were his only desires. I wish it were in my power to portray this lethargic man-boy — man in form, but boy in mind —as he sat there before me with drooping shoulders, curved spine, feet close together, but knees far apart, and gazed indifferently around the strange room. He was a perfect picture of the unawakened. The sleep of mortality lay upon him like the fumes of an opiate. I learned that he was addicted to tobacco, which thing alone is sufficient to cause his condition. In eighteen years of teaching I have hardly found a youner man with high ideals who was a user of tobacco. Nor have I ever found one who could keep abreast in his studies with the average student who did not use it. The world is loudly calling for men and women, but only those respond to the call who have the divine fire of inspiration. The twentieth century needs men with high ideals. It cannot use the cigarette smoker, the wine bibber, nor the idler. This class will be of little worth above the earth in this strenuous age: but, as Mark Twain suggests, they might be of use if they were under the ground inspiring cabbages to grow. I once asked forty students in psychology to write me their ideals. Varied were the answers. Some desired to be historians, some teachers, others poets, lawyers, and doctors. One answer

THE TRAGEDY AND TRIUMPH OF YOUTH. 233 read: "From a child, I have had a great desire to be a true, noble woman." Her ideal had borne fruit, for she looked every inch a queen. The others desired learning, but she desired character. With such an inspiration as hers, every other thing will come. Young men, you who are tempest-tossed, you with no alluring hope or comforting vision born in imagination's sanctuary, and warmed at imagination's fire, you who have not even seen your yet-to-be greater selves, come walk with me, arm in arm, while I reveal to you your hidden powers. You are divine. Let this divinity once awaken, no barrier shall stay your progress. You will be like Agassiz, who, in his youth, said, "I feel the energy of a whole generation flowing in my veins." Remember, no prophet, no poet, no inventor could be such without this inspiration. If you feel the need of this power, study for it, pray for it. It will come. When Sarah Bernhardt was to play the part of the Duke of Reichstadt her duty was meagerly done when she had learned her lines. The thing she struggled for was to feel this dead man's soul — to get the inspiration of his life. To do this, she wore his costume, had herself imprisoned in the same tower in which he spent part of his sad life. One dark night she rode out of the city on a dashing steed, as he did when he fled for liberty. At last she felt the inspiration of his character. When she appeared on the stage people arose from their seats and cried out, "The Duke of Reichstadt! the Duke of Reichstadt!" Now, before we part, I appeal to you to awaken an ideal, know your course, and follow it without fear or favor. Ere man can greater grow, must heat within compel The soul expand and glow, and molt its hardened shell. Beaver, Utah. [to be continued.!