that he had known fools cured of their
folly, but never a vain man cured of his vanity. Pliny said: "It is as
hard to instruct pride as it is to fill an empty bottle with a cork in
it." Some men are constitutionally vain. They think all creation
converges toward one center, and they are that center. The rash of
conceit commonly runs its course very early in life. With most it is
like the prancing and gayety of an untrained colt; the cure is the
plow and harness. Failure also is a curative agent, and so also is
success. But chiefly do the ideals rebuke conceit. The imagination is
God in the soul, and lifting up the possible achievement, the glory of
what men may become, shames and makes contemptible what men are.

Indolence and contentment also antagonize the ideals. Men bring
together a few generosities and integrities. Soul-misers, men gloat
over these, as money-misers over their shining treasure, content with
the little virtue they have. But no man has a right to fulfill a
stagnant career; life is not to be a puddle, but a sweet and running
stream. No man has a right to rust; he is bound to keep his tools
bright by usage. No man has a right to be paralyzed; he is bound to
enlarge and grow. So ideals come in to compel men to go forward. It is
easier to lie down in a thorn hedge, or to sleep in a field of
stinging nettles, than for a man to abide contentedly as he is while
his ideals scourge him upward.

Chiefly do the malign elements oppose the ideal life. There is enmity
between vulgarity and visions. If anger comes, mirth goes; when greed
is in the ascendency, generosity is expelled. If, during a chorus of
bird-voices in the forest, only the shadow of an approaching hawk
falls upon the ground, every sweet voice is hushed. Thus, if but one
evil, hawk-like note is heard in the heart, all the nobler joys and
aspirations depart. The higher life is at enmity with the lower, and
this war is one of extermination.

Oh, all ye young hearts! guard well one rock that is fatal to all
excellence. If ever you have broken faith with your ideals, lift them
up and renew faith. Cherish ideals as the traveler cherishes the north
star, and keep the guiding light pure and bright and high above the
horizon. The vessel may lose its sails and masts, but if it only keeps
its course and compass, the harbor may be reached. Once it loses the
star for steering by, the voyage must end in shipwreck. For when the
heroic purpose goes, all life's