s; and he
has also reminded us that the oyster mends its broken shell with pearl.

We do not like overmuch to read with care our own experiences; but, when
we are honest, we see that every struggle has left a residuum of added
strength, that every loss has been a gain, that every calamity has
opened doors into a larger world, and that what has been dreaded most
has really most enriched us. Experience is a wise teacher.

History confirms the witness of experience. The strong man has always
gained strength by struggle. The story of a few of the preeminent
teachers is impressive reading. Mahomet knew the bitter pangs of
poverty; Epictetus was a slave; Socrates was regarded as a fanatic, if
not a lunatic, by most of the people of Athens; Siddhartha is said to
have been a useless and luxurious young man until, wearied with the
monotony of his father's palace, he ventured into the larger world and
saw wherever he went poverty, sickness, death. He was startled into
activity by the want, woe, and misery through which his pathway led.

Nearly all moral and spiritual leaders have had to suffer and thus grow
strong. Mere genius has done little for human progress. It has made
physical discoveries, but seldom touched the sphere of the soul. Elijah
heard the voice of God in the midst of the terrors of the wilderness in
which he was ready to die; Isaiah shared the usual fate of reformers and
spoke his message into the ears of those who returned insult for
warning. The story of Job is a long tragedy,--the world's tragedy, the
tragedy of the soul in all ages. What deeps of anguish Dante fathomed
before he could begin to write! Who can read the story of "Faust," as
Goethe has interpreted it, without feeling that in it he has given the
world in thin disguise much of his own life-story? Shakespeare alone, of
men of genius of the first rank, seems to have learned comparatively few
of his lessons in the school of suffering. But, possibly, if more were
known of Shakespeare, it would be found that Lear, Macbeth, and Hamlet
are but the expressions of lessons learned as he fought life's battle.

The "In Memoriam" of Tennyson, the "De Profundis" of Mrs. Browning, and
the rich and glorious music of Robert Browning could have come only from
souls which had been profoundly moved by grief and pain. All men listen
most attentively to those who have gone farthest into the dark shadows.

The austere in human experience always accomplishes a purpose o