Encouraged by this counsel he found no difficulty in purchasing a horse and wagon, for which he paid in less time than he promised. He succeeded in business, established a bakery of his own, became a prominent citizen of his town, represented it in the House of Representatives, was chairman of its school committee, subsequently represented his senatorial district in the Massachusetts Senate; for twenty years presided over more political, temperance, anti-slavery, and religious conventions than any other citizen of his county because of his ability in that line; was presidential elector to one of the most important Republican conventions ever convened; and more than twenty years ago was Massachusetts commissioner to the International Exposition at Paris, France. Character did it. It was better capital for him than money. Had he possessed only money he might never have got beyond the bakeshop. It was capital that did even more for him out of his business than in it. Money could only have aided him in the bakery business; it would not have made. him an enterprising, useful, and honored citizen. But character did all this, and even more, for him.

Money capital will not secure confidence, or, at least, not the confidence requisite in the transaction of business. Enough money will beget. confidence in the pecuniary ability of a trader, but that alone will not beget confidence in his moral ability. It is not a guarantee against lying, cheating, or other forms of over-reaching; but character is. Hence, it is a peculiar kind of capital, constantly increasing in value, introducing the possessor to channels of influence and power he had not thought of. It was said of that famed New York merchant, Gideon Lee: "It was his misfortune - if, indeed, it be one to be born poor; it was his merit, by industry and perseverance, to acquire wealth. It was his misfortune to be deprived of an education when young; it was his merit to force it in maturer age. It was his misfortune to be without friends in his early struggle, to aid him by their means or counsel; it was his merit to win them in troops by a character that challenged all scrutiny."

It is not the sight of money that makes the creditor feel easy, but it is the sight of character. The "sound of the hammer at five in the morning" satisfies him that industry is only one virtue of many in the heart of the toiler whose

hammer is heard so early in the morning. Even the money capital of the debtor who is seen in the playhouse, or heard in the barroom, does not make the creditor easy, for he knows that these and kindred resorts have exhausted the pecuniary resources of many a trader.

A young man was serving as clerk on an annual salary of five hundred dollars. He was as efficient, reliable, and painstaking, however, as he would have been on a salary of five thousand. Customers liked him, his employers confided in him, his habits were correct, and his character was without a stain. He was surprised, one day, by an offer from one of their best patrons to become his partner in an extensive jobbing business. "Put your character against my money, and we will share the profits equally."

The modest young man scarcely knew what to say at first. After recovering from his surprise, however, the subject was canvassed with the customer, and a speedy conclusion reached. The partnership was consummated, and it proved harmonious and successful. The character of the young merchant was worth more to the concern than the capital of his confiding friend. It gave the firm standing at once. Its value grew, also, from year to year, giving the company a firmer grip upon public confidence. He who had only character to invest found himself in a few years among the leading men of the city, not only one of its merchant princes, but one of its counselors, officers, and benefactors. The money invested at the outset had been long forgotten, but the character which the young man put in had grown fairer, richer, and more influential.

Sixty years ago, a boy of eight or ten years, in Danville, Maine, lost his father by death. His mother was too poor to support the large family of children, so this son went to live with a neighbor, a farmer. He was a good boy; industrious, pleasant, self-reliant, truthful, aspiring, and manly. The farmer and his wife liked him. He was a great reader, and his employer encouraged him to improve his spare moments in that way, and he allowed him all the schooling there was in town a few weeks each year. At fourteen, however, he thought he might go up higher. He felt that he might do more and better in Boston. After proper conference with his mother and the farmer, he left for Boston, having little more money

than enough to pay his passage there. Thinking it wise for him, under the circumstances, to accept the first offer, he went to work on a farm in Roxbury, at four dollars a month, at the same time keeping a lookout for a chance in a store. In two years a favorable opportunity introduced him to mercantile business in Boston. Without being conceited at all, he knew that he was fitted for such a sphere. Scarcely three years more elapsed before Joshua Stetson, a leading merchant of Boston, attracted by his intelligence, self-reliance, ability, and high character, offered to furnish him with capital to commence business for himself. He accepted the kind offer, and became a merchant, at the corner of Mechanic and Hanover streets, just as he became twenty years of age. At the end of four years, his trade amounted to one hundred thousand dollars annually. Then followed the firm of Jordan, Marsh & Company, before he was thirty years of age! It was his devotion to business, and, more especially, his personal character, that led Mr. Stetson to offer him capital with which to set up business for himself. Character was transmuted into literal cash capital.

Louis XIV. ruled large France, but he could not conquer little Holland. The reason was not quite clear to him, and so he asked Colbert, his minister. The latter replied, "Because, sire, the greatness of a country does not depend upon the extent of its territory, but on the character of its people. It is because of the industry, the frugality, and the energy of the Dutch that your majesty has found them difficult to overcome." The war capital of France was a standing army; that of Holland was character.

CHAPTER X.

GEORGE DEWEY.

HIS DETESTATION OF LYING BIRTHPLACE GEORGE DEWEY'S BOYHOOD FIRST CRUISE -SCHOOLING -AT THE NAVAL ACADEMY IN THE CIVIL WAR MANILA- PERSONAL TRAITS. COMMON SENSE.

AFLOAT AND ASHORE

CHARACTERISTICS

If I remember correctly, I gave my father considerable bother and worry when I was a boy, and even during part of my college course. I wasn't malicious, or classed in any sense as bad, and I think that I uniformly tried to make the most out of my opportunities and behaved myself.

a

There is nothing that I detest so much in a man as lying. If he has n't the courage to tell the truth, let him at least keep his mouth entirely closed. I don't believe that any man ever lost anything in the long run by telling the truth. At the same time, I don't ever gained anything in the long run by tell

Penge Demey

DMIRAL DEWEY was born in Montpelier, Vt., Decem

ber 26, 1837. And if early rising really be a state quality, as Vermonters claim, prosperity follows hard upon the practice of it. To have seen the city of Montpelier is to have beheld the very embodiment of industry and thrift, and of comfortable wealth, their consequence. Everybody appears well-to-do, and, what is better, busy. The little city is bright and clean, with solid and tasteful houses of the colonial type, mostly of brick, set back behind broad, shaded

lawns. The wide streets are lined by magnificent elms, and the green hills of Vermont tower high above you on either side as you walk. Montpelier, like most Vermont towns, was built upon the hills first, and it was perhaps with reluctance that the settlers came down into the narrow valley of the Onion, now called the Winooski.

The cottage where George was born and passed his childhood still stands, but it has been removed some distance down the street from its old site, directly across from the whitecolumned State House. In bygone days it was a vine-clad cottage, and the Onion river ran through the pleasant fields and gardens behind it, between weeping willows and stone walls. The steep, velvet side of a hill rises from its farther bank. Little George loved the river; his bare feet knew every stone in it. One day he was summoned out of the rapids and dragged reluctant into the parlor to meet "company." The "company" still have a vivid memory of the very small boy with the roguish black eyes and restless face -none too clean-and of the sinewy, bare little legs, and even of the battered straw hat, innocent of brim, which he held bashfully in his hand while the introduction was in prog

ress.

George's sister Mary, two years younger, was his constant companion when his excellency permitted. She knew no keener joy than that of plodding after him many a weary mile with a tin of worms. To bait his hook was a privilege unspeakable. How often of late has she lived over those years while awaiting news of him from the far-away Orient! George was not a great reader in those days. "Robinson. Crusoe" pleased him and aroused a passion for adventure in far-away lands which he took out in tramps over his own Vermont mountains, with sister Mary, perhaps, as man Friday. But a fateful day came when his big brother Charles, twelve years older, presented him with a copy of the "Life of Hannibal.” Snow lay thick on the steep slope behind the State House, and over it a heavy crust with surface like glass. To ten-year-old Hannibal here was a Jungfrau ready to hand and well-nigh as formidable. Orders were at once issued to sister Mary, in this instance the army and all the appurtenances thereof, who cheerfully left her "Child's Life of Queen Bess" and the cozy fireside to follow her captain