ed even as we train a
child; it has to be brought back and back, again and again to the thing
to be done. After the asking of a simple question, oftentimes a whole
class will look confounded, because they have some strange notion that
thinking means getting hold of something very far away and difficult to
grasp. All that the first effort in thought denotes is taking a hold of
that which is nearest and following it up. It is the old story of
Theseus following his clue of thread, the slender thing in his hand, by
which he was guided out of the labyrinth and to the broad sea of
adventure.

There are difficulties in the doing of any work that is worth while. It
would be a poor adviser who painted the student's way as a path of
roses. First and foremost, one's own inertia interferes with the joy of
work. Some one has defined the lazy man as one who doesn't want to do
anything at all, and the indolent man as one who doesn't want to do
anything that he doesn't want to do. Then, too, there are certain
allurements and distractions in school life which are a hindrance to our
joy in an intellectual task. And there is the very natural
disinclination to the drudgery involved in all hard labour. No work that
is worth while is without drudgery. Lack of encouragement from older
people is one serious difficulty some girls have to meet. There is a
type of older person who is sure that using the mind will harm that
precious article. And, finally, there is our inexperience, our own lack
of comprehension, our own purposeless and formless lives.

Joy in work should not be altogether conditional upon one's sense of
ease or upon what is called success. Seeming success is not always
success. Often the most valuable lessons come from failures. Robert
Browning, the poet, speaks again and again of the noble uses of failure.
Let me quote one stanza from one of his greatest poems, "Rabbi Ben
Ezra":

"Then, welcome each rebuff
That turns earth's smoothness rough,
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go!
Be our joys three-parts pain!
Strive and hold cheap the strain;
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!"

You can't learn to walk if you haven't tumbled down a good deal in doing
it. It is often failure that means ultimate success. Of course if a
girl keeps on saying: "Oh, what's the use?" about everything she does
and all her failures, there isn't any use. In weak moments that sort of
thing can