foam of the
chalice for me;" forgetting that beneath the foam are the bitter dregs,
which, be he ever so unwilling, he must swallow, not to-day, nor yet
to-morrow,--perhaps not this year nor next; but sometime, as surely as
the reaping follows the sowing, will the bitter draught follow the
foaming glass of unlawful pleasure.

As the years go by, and youth merges into manhood, the sculptor's hand
becomes more unsteady. One false blow follows another in rapid
succession. The formless marble takes on distorted outlines. Its
whiteness has long since become spotted. The sculptor, with blurred
vision and shattered nerves, still strikes with aimless hand, carving
deep gashes, adding a crooked line here, another there, soiling and
marring until no trace of the virgin purity of the block of marble
which was given him remains. It has become so grimy, so demoniacally
fantastic in its outlines, that the beholder turns from it with a
shudder.

Not far off we see another youth at work on a block of marble, similar
in every detail to the first. The tools with which he plies his labor
differ in no wise from those of the worker we have been following.

The glory of the morning shines upon the marble. Glowing with
enthusiasm, the light of a high purpose illuminating his face, the
sculptor, with steady hand and eye, begins to work out his ideal. The
vision that flits before him is so beautiful that he almost fears the
cunning of his hand will be unequal to fashioning it from the rigid
mass before him. Patiently he measures each blow of the mallet. With
infinite care he chisels each line and curve. Every stroke is true.

Months stretch into years, and still we find the sculptor at work. Time
has given greater precision to his touch, and the skill of the youth,
strengthened by noble aspirations and right effort, has become positive
genius in the man. If he has not attained the ideal that haunted him,
he has created a form so beautiful in its clear-cut outlines, so
imposing in the majesty of its purity and strength, that the beholder
involuntarily bows before it.

THE MARBLE WAITETH. WHAT WILL YOU DO WITH IT?

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eclectic School Readings: Stories from
Life, by Orison Swett Marden

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES FROM LIFE ***

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