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was in the summer of 1665, while at home, that, seated in the orchard and seeing the ripe fruit drop, he fell into one of his profound meditations on the nature of the force which caused it to fall. The train of thought seemed to have been something like this: 1. These apples fall in a direct line toward the center of the earth. The same force causes a cannon ball to curve toward the same point. Everything in the world is drawn and held by it. 2. If these apples fell from a tree half a mile high they would not the less seek the earth's center. 3. Suppose an apple should fall from the moon-then what? He saw that the movement of the moon in its orbit around the earth is really a constant falling toward the earth; that it is constantly drawn by the earth from a straight line in which it would move by its own momentum, were it not for the attraction of the earth. But not until 1682 did he complete the problem, and give to the world the solution.

For true success there must be not only the general powers of observation, but a specialized training of those powers, so that we shall be searching for our specialty. Yonder stand three men upon a hilltop. The first is a dealer in real estate. His trained eye enables him to estimate the fertility of those broad acres in the valley, and the value of those forest-covered slopes, or the possibilities of making the sightly eminence upon which they stand a suburban settlement, where men may build homes away from the noise and smoke of the city. The next is a geologist. His eye takes in the nature of the soil, the rock formations, the scattered bowlders, the outlines of hills and valleys and courses of rivers, and he sees how through unmeasured ages the forces of nature have been bringing to its present form the region of country which is spread out at his feet. The third is a painter. For the possibilities and utilities of the valleys and hillsides, or the processes by which they came to their present form, he cares but little. He looks with an artist's eye, and his soul swells with an artist's joy, and he longs to capture for his canvas these valleys of verdure, the river which like a silver ribbon seems carelessly thrown down

among the green, the wooded hills which rise one behind another and grow blue in the distance, the white houses away up the valley yonder, which seem like scattered pearls in a setting of emerald, and the hazy sky which throws a veil of dreamy softness over the whole landscape. Each of these men has eyes that see, but the eyes of each have been differently trained, and so each sees his specialty.

The true poet must have eyes that see. He is more than a maker of rhymes and meters. He must see and show to us what ordinary eyes have not detected. For example, one of our poets, in giving a picture of the Netherlands, writes:

"The sails of windmills sink and soar
Like wings of sea-gulls on the shore,"

and we are thrilled with the aptness of the comparison.
the Lighthouse he says:

"It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp

The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;

It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.
The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form

Press the great shoulders of the hurricane."

Of

The incoming tide and the plashing waves are fittingly called the "clasp," and "kiss of peace." The white fleece of foam from which the waters are shaken out and fall back, we also see after the poet has shown it to us. The "startled waves" leaping over the barriers at the shore we recall, and we remember that they came rushing in swifter than the wind, as though seeking to escape from some pursuing enemy. The "scourges of the rain" picture the many lashes, each numerously loaded and all wielded by the wrathful wind. And when this does not avail, the wind, which has now become a hurricane, presses its mighty shoulders against the tower of stone, causing it to quiver indeed, but not to yield.

We usually find what we search for. He who is looking for evil motives and deeds in his fellow men will be quite likely to find them. And some seem to make this their wretched specialty. They pride themselves on their insight into human nature, but for any good they do you will look in vain, they are detectives rather than physicians. There should be a care not to develop the eyes to see evil, since we inevitably become transformed into the likeness of that which we have as the object of our attention. A man's object in life will surely bend and mold him into conformity to itself. An old whaler said that he had for more than a score of years sailed the seas for the capture of sperm whales, and he supposed his heart would be found by a post mortem examination to be in the form of a whale.

While we should not be searching for sin, we should train our eyes to see danger signals, and make sure that we have not become morally color-blind. It seems strange that some persons should be unable to distinguish red from green. Dalton could see in the solar spectrum only two colors, blue and yellow, and having once dropped a piece of red sealingwax in the grass, he could not distinguish it by its color. Dr. Mitchell mentions a naval officer who chose a blue coat and red waistcoat, believing them to be of the same color. Color blindness is usually in relation to red, and yet red is the universal danger signal. Young people often say, "I can't see the harm of this or the wrong in that," and, refusing to take the word of others that the signal shows red and indicates danger, they rush on to ruin.

As color blindness is the occasion of many wrecks and ruins, so nearsightedness is the cause of many sad failures. The trained eye of the sailor will detect a sail out on the horizon, when a landsman would see but the meeting of sea and sky. The eye should be trained to long distance seeing, for often we must pass through defeat to victory. Temporary loss may be the gateway to permanent gain. In most enterprises there is at first a necessary sinking of some capital, but this becomes

the out-of-sight foundation upon which the superstructure may be solidly reared. The farmer, the merchant, the manufacturer, look ahead, often a long way ahead. They have eyes that see. The chess or checker player who sees but one move ahead will seldom win unless he plays with another who is equally stupid.

But finally in all our seeing and seeking let the object be a noble and worthy one. I have read of a man who found a valuable gold piece, and from that time forth he walked with eyes upon the ground searching for gold pieces. He would not lift his eyes, lest he should overlook some money lying in his path. In the course of his life he did find several pieces, but meanwhile his soul was becoming narrower and more sordid. He saw not the blue skies, the fleecy clouds, the rainbow arch, the stars brighter than gold, the crescent or full-orbed moon. He had eyes to see, but better far for his soul had he been blind. I read of the great leader and law-giver Moses, "He endured as seeing Him who is invisible." And more than we need the power to find gold dollars or eagles, or to see stars and moon and sun, do we need to have this promise as our possession: "Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty; they shall behold the land that is very far off."

The Value of an Idea.

T

WILLIAM C. KING, Springfield, Mass.

HE true value of an idea is beyond the power of computation. The world is not governed by gold, but by ideas. The man who works without ideas becomes a mere machine, stupid and void of either mental or physical growth. The man whose mind is kept in a condition of healthy activity, becomes an intellectual power. He is constantly evolving ideas which are of value to himself and the world.

Gutenberg was a young man whose mind was active. He was familiar with the laborious and difficult task of producing manuscript volumes. He conceived the idea of making movable type and thus of making books by printing instead of by the slow process of writing. As we look upon the vast product of the printing press, and consider the immeasurable influence it has exerted for four centuries, who can estimate the value of this one idea? If it had remained in the closet of darkness hidden from the world, the common people of the present generation would be but slightly, if any, emerged from the intellectual night which had hitherto enveloped them. Gutenberg was a thinking man. He communicated his ideas to his wife and received from her a smile of approval and encouragement. He at once began to put his idea into tangible form, and, as a result, we to-day have the art of printing with a wide diffusion of its products, and consequent intellectual stimulus and influence throughout the civilized world.

The idea of bridling the electric current and sending it across the continent and around the world at a speed of lightning, freighted with thought and intelligence, is beyond the power of human computation in point of value to the world.

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