say: "I thought of that myself!" Most of us have had the same
experience after reading of a great discovery that we had thrown
overboard because it must not have been "worth while" or someone else
would already have thought of it.

The man who puts life into an idea is acclaimed a genius, because he
does _the right thing at the right time_. Therein lies the difference
between the _genius_ and a _commonplace_ man.

We all have ambitions, but only the few achieve. A man thinks of a good
thing and says: "Now if I only had the money I'd put that through." The
word "if" was a dent in his courage. With character fully established,
his plan well thought out, he had only to go to those in command of
capital and it would have been forthcoming. He had something that
capital would cheerfully get behind if he had the courage to back up his
claims. To fail was nothing less than moral cowardice. _The will to do_
had not been efficient. There was a flaw in the character, after all.

Going back, therefore, to the prescription, we find that a _sound
body_, a _good mind_, an _honest purpose_, and a _lack of fear_ are the
essential elements of success. So, when we have conceived something for
the good of the world and have allowed it to go by default we have
dropped the monkey-wrench into the machinery of our preparedness. We
must look about us for a reason. Have we fallen by the wayside of
carelessness? Have we allowed ourselves to be discouraged by cowardly
"ifs"? _Did we lack the sand_? Exactly so; we didn't have the courage of
our convictions.

Life is the one great experience, and those who fail to win, if sound of
body, can safely lay the blame to their lack of mental equipment. What
does it matter if disappointments follow one after the other if we can
_laugh and try again_? Failures must come to all of us in some degree,
but we may rise from our failures and win back our losses if we are only
shrewd enough to realize that good health, sound mind, and a cheerful
spirit are necessary adjuncts. As Tennyson says:

"I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things."

All truly great men have been healthy--otherwise they would have fallen
short of the mark. Prisons are filled with nervous, diseased creatures.
There is no doubt but that most of these who, through ignorance, sifted
through to the bottomless pits cou