a precious possession upon the right use of
which may depend all our future of happiness and success, or of misery
and failure; for

"This day we fashion Destiny, our web of Fate we spin."

Lest he should forget that Time's wings are swift and noiseless, and so
rapidly bear our to-days to the Land of Yesterday, John Ruskin,
philosopher, philanthropist, and tireless worker though he was, kept
constantly before his eyes on his study table a large, handsome block
of chalcedony, on which was graven the single word "To-day." Every
moment of this noble life was enriched by the right use of each passing
moment.

A successful merchant, whose name is well-known throughout our country,
very tersely sums up the means by which true success may be attained.
"It is just this," he says: "Do your best every day, whatever you have
in hand."

This simple rule, if followed in sunshine and in storm, in days of
sadness as well as days of gladness, will rear for the builder a Palace
Beautiful more precious than pearls of great price, more enduring than
time.

"THE MILL BOY OF THE SLASHES"

A picturesque, as well as pathetic figure, was Henry Clay, the little
"Mill Boy of the Slashes," as he rode along on the old family horse to
Mrs. Darricott's mill. Blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and bare-footed,
clothed in coarse shirt and trousers, and a time-worn straw hat, he sat
erect on the bare back of the horse, holding, with firm hand, the rope
which did duty as a bridle. In front of him lay the precious sack,
containing the grist which was to be ground into meal or flour, to feed
the hungry mouths of the seven little boys and girls who, with the
widowed mother, made up the Clay family.

It required a good deal of grist to feed so large a family, especially
when hoecake was the staple food, and it was because of his frequent
trips to the mill, across the swampy region called the "Slashes," that
Henry was dubbed by the neighbors "The Mill Boy of the Slashes."

The lad was ambitious, however, and, very early in life, made up his
mind that he would win for himself a more imposing title. He never
dreamed of winning world-wide renown as an orator, or of exchanging his
boyish sobriquet for "The Orator of Ashland." But he who forms high
ideals in youth usually far outstrips his first ambition, and Henry had
"hitched his wagon to a star."

This awkward country boy, who was so bashful, and so lacking in
self-confidence that he hardly dared re