eams lend a soft blush to the rose and pulsate the crimson
tides through to the uttermost edge of each petal, so a great, loving
sympathy, sang and sighed, thrilled and throbbed through the tones of
the Swedish singer, and ravished the hearts of the people and made her
name immortal.

History portrays many men of giant minds whose intellect could not
redeem them from aimlessness and obscurity. Not until some divine
enthusiasm descended upon the mind and baptized it with heroic action
did these men find themselves. To that young patrician, Saul,
journeying to Damascus, came the heavenly vision, and the new impulse
of the heart made his cold mind warm, lent wings to his slow feet, made
all his days powerful, made his soul the center of an immense activity.
This glowing heart of Paul explains for us the fact that he achieved
freedom of thought and speech, endured the stones with which he was
bruised, the stocks in which he was bound, the mobbings with which he
was mutilated; explains also his eloquence, known and unrecorded;
explains his faith and fortitude, his heroism in death. And not only
has the zeal of the heart made strong men stronger, turned weak men
into giants, lent the soldier his conquering courage and lent the
scholar a stainless life--to men whose will has been made weak by
indulgence, the new love has come to redeem intellect and will from the
bondage of habit.

No one who ever heard John B. Gough can forget his marvelous eloquence,
his wit and his pathos, his scintillating humor, his inimitable
dramatisms. He did not have the polished brilliancy of Everett or the
elegant scholarship of Phillips, and yet when these numbered thousands
of admirers, Gough numbered his tens of thousands. In his
autobiography this man tells us to what sad straits passion had brought
him; how he reflected upon the injury he was doing himself and others,
only to find that his reflections and resolutions snapped like cobwebs
before the onslaught of temptation. One night the young bookbinder
drifted into a little meeting and, buttoning his seedy overcoat to
conceal his rags, in some way he found himself upon his feet and began
to speak. The address that proved a pleasure to others was a
revelation to himself. For the first time Gough tasted the joys of
moving men and mastering them for good. Within a week that love of
public speech and useful service had kindled his mental faculties into
a creative glow. The new and high