d, yet an engineer employed by Mr. Chapin,
of Springfield, to determine the possible power of the Connecticut River
at that point reported it so great that unbelief in his figures
postponed for a long time all the proposed enterprises. But one poor
man, determined "to do something about it," promoted a system of canals
which now so utilizes the water that a large city, manufacturing
annually products worth many millions, draws from it comfort and riches.
Massive as are the present works at Holyoke, regret is often expressed
that so much of the water-power still goes over the mighty dam and
ridicules the smallness of the faith of those who tried to harness it.

Such is the intellectual force in a young person's mind. It is
reasonable to conclude that no mind ever did its very best, and that no
will power was ever exerted continuously to its greatest capacity. But
the first essential in the making of noble character is to gain a full
appreciation of the latent or unused force which each individual
possesses. When one without foolish egotism realizes how much can be
done with his wasting energies, then he must carefully consider to what
object he will turn his power. Great wills are often wasted on unworthy
objects, and the strong current of the mind, which could be applied to
the making of world-enriching machinery, is used to manufacture some
unsalable toy. The mind is often compared to an electric dynamo. The
figure is accurate. It is an automatic, self-charging battery which,
when applied to worthy occupation or to a high purpose, distributes
happiness, progress, and intelligence to mankind, and as a natural
consequence brings riches and honor to the industrious possessor.

Forty years ago there was on the lips of nearly every teacher and father
a fascinating story of a Massachusetts boy whose history illustrates
forcibly the "power to will" which is latent in us all. I need not state
the details of the life, as it is only the illustration which we need
here.

A young fellow sat on a barrel at the door of a country grocery-store in
a small village not far from Boston. He was the son of an industrious
mechanic who had opened a small shop for making and repairing farm
utensils, such as rakes, hoes, and shovels. But the son, encouraged by
an indulgent mother, would not work. He gave way to cards, drink, and
bad company. He would not go to school, and was a continual source of
alarm to his parents, and he became the talk