h is to come. But
I am speaking to you of the practical advantages of hope. Bacon says:
"Hope is leaf-joy, which may be beaten out to a great extension, like
gold." It has been most beautifully said by Hillard that the shadow of
human life is traced upon a golden ground of immortal hope. Shakspeare
says the miserable have no other medicine. "Hope is a prodigal young
heir, and Experience is his banker, but his drafts are seldom honored,
since there is often a heavy balance against him." Now to make his
account good in the First National Bank of Experience, what should Hope
do? He plainly should begin the deposit of probabilities to draw
against. Walter Scott says: "Hope is brightest when it dawns from
fears," and I should think his drafts would be honored just so far as
they were drawn with circumspection. "Folly ends" writes Cowper "where
genuine hope begins." But where there is no hope there can be no
endeavor, so whether it exist in superabundance or not let us cultivate
it as one of the loveliest of the flowers of life, as absolutely the
sweetest perfume that ever burns in the Golden Censer. Let me tell you
how

HOPE ALONE SAVED THE LIFE

of one of the finest young men in the land. He was the son of a wealthy
wine merchant who had failed in business near Bath-Easton, England. Like
many other lads, he felt the sting of circumstances which promised to
alter, and without good advice got ready to come to America. He was well
trained in the wine trade, and supposed that employment would at once
open to him. He brought over two guns, two revolvers, a field glass, a
sword, much valuable jewelry, about twelve suits of clothes and not a
very large amount of money--possibly three hundred dollars. After
seeing Boston and New York, he "left for the plains," and

ARRIVED IN CHICAGO ON CHRISTMAS,

the year before the great conflagration. Here he was met by other
English friends, and the New Year's calls customary in the city were
made "in fine style," for he was an engaging young man. In just a casual
way he inquired for work, but found his trade did not exist in the New
World. He was thus in the worst business position conceivable. He had
had no drill in anything that would do him any good. Upon spending the
last of his money one night--I think it was for a game of billiards--he
made up his mind that he would go out after work the next day. This he
did. He tramped the snowy streets early in the morning. He waded in the
s