Acres of Diamonds

Copyright 2003 Rod Beckwith http://www.tagr.com1

Acres of Diamonds

By Russell H. Conwell

Published by© 2003, Rod Beckwith

1040 Grant Rd Suite 155-169Mt. View, Ca 94040.

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This eBook is presented as a reminder to us all to notoverlook the grass/opportunities in our own backyardbefore we go exlporing new venues. This story was told byRussell H. Conwell, founder ofTemple University. He used this story over 6,000 times tosecure funding For his dream....A University for underprivileged young people who well deserved to go tocollege but could not afford to do so.

I first heard this story in a cassette tape series by EarlNightingale entitled Lead the Field I highly recommendthat tape series as well. The information within thisdocument supports very well to what Napoleon Hill wassaying.

-The Publisher

*Note, this book is FREE and can be given away as long as none of thecontent is changed in anyway unless express permission is given bythe publisher or his agents

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Acres of Diamonds By Russell H. Conwell

I am astonished that so many people shouldcare to hear this story over again. Indeed, thislecture has become a study in psychology; it oftenbreaks all rules of oratory, departs from theprecepts of rhetoric, and yet remains the mostpopular of any lecture I have delivered in the fifty-seven years of my public life. I have sometimesstudied for a year upon a lecture and made carefulresearch, and then presented the lecture just once-never delivered it again. I put too much work on it.But this had no work on it-thrown togetherperfectly at random, spoken offhand without anyspecial preparation, and it succeeds when the thingwe study, work over, adjust to a plan, is an entirefailure.

The "Acres of Diamonds" which I havementioned through so many years are to be foundin this city, and you are to find them. Many havefound them. And what man has done, man cando. I could not find anything better to illustrate mythought than a story I have told over andover again, and which is now found in books innearly every library.

In 1870 we went down the Tigris River. Wehired a guide at Bagdad to show us Persepolis,Nineveh and Babylon, and the ancient countries ofAssyria as far as the Arabian Gulf. He waswell acquainted with the land, but he was one ofthose guides who love to entertain theirpatrons; he was like a barber that tells you manystories in order to keep your mind off thescratching and the scraping. He told me so manystories that I grew tired of his telling them and



I refused to listen-looked away whenever hecommenced; that made the guide quite angry.

I remember that toward evening he took hisTurkish cap off his head and swung it around intheair. The gesture I did not understand and I didnot dare look at him for fear I should becomethe victim of another story. But, although I am nota woman, I did look, and the instant I turnedmy eyes upon that worthy guide he was off again.Said he, "I will tell you a story now which Ireserve for my particular friends!" So then,counting myself a particular friend, I listened, andI have always been glad I did.

He said there once lived not far from theRiver Indus an ancient Persian by the name of AlHafed. He said that Al Hafed owned a very largefarm with orchards, grain fields and gardens.

He was a contented and wealthy man-contented because he was wealthy, and wealthybecause he was contented. One day there visitedthis old farmer one of those ancient Buddhistpriests, and he sat down by Al Hafed's fire and toldthat old farmer how this world of ours wasmade.

He said that this world was once a merebank of fog, which is scientifically true, and hesaid that the Almighty thrust his finger into thebank of fog and then began slowly to move hisfinger around and gradually to increase the speedof his finger until at last he whirled that bank offog into a solid ball of fire, and it went rollingthrough the universe, burning its way throughother cosmic banks of fog, until it condensed themoisture without, and fell in floods of rain upontheheated surface and cooled the outward crust. Thenthe internal flames burst through the cooling



crust and threw up the mountains and made thehills and the valleys of this wonderful world ofours. If this internal melted mass burst out andcooled very quickly it became granite; that whichcooled less quickly became silver; and lessquickly, gold; and after gold diamonds were made.Said the old priest, "A diamond is a congealeddrop of sunlight."

This is a scientific truth also. You all knowthat a diamond is pure carbon, actually depositedsunlight-and he said another thing I would notforget: he declared that a diamond is the lastand highest of God's mineral creations, as awoman is the last and highest of God's animalcreations. I suppose that is the reason why the twohave such a liking for each other. And theold priest told Al Hafed that if he had a handful ofdiamonds he could purchase a wholecountry, and with a mine of diamonds he couldplace his children upon thrones through theinfluence of their great wealth.

Al Hafed heard all about diamonds and howmuch they were worth, and went to his bed thatnight a poor man-not that he had lost anything, butpoor because he was discontented anddiscontented because he thought he was poor. Hesaid: "I want a mine of diamonds!" So he layawake all night, and early in the morning soughtout the priest.

Now I know from experience that a priestwhen awakened early in the morning is cross. Heawoke that priest out of his dreams and said tohim, "Will you tell me where I can finddiamonds?" The priest said, "Diamonds? What doyou want with diamonds?" "I want to beimmensely rich," said Al Hafed, "but I don't knowwhere to go." "Well," said the priest, "if you



will find a river that runs over white sand betweenhigh mountains, in those sands you willalways see diamonds." "Do you really believe thatthere is such a river?" "Plenty of them, plentyof them; all you have to do is just go and findthem, then you have them." Al Hafed said, "I willgo." So he sold his farm, collected his money atinterest, left his family in charge of a neighbor,and away he went in search of diamonds.

He began very properly, to my mind, at theMountains of the Moon. Afterwards he wentaround into Palestine, then wandered on intoEurope, and at last, when his money was allspent, and he was in rags, wretchedness andpoverty, he stood on the shore of that bay inBarcelona, Spain, when a tidal wave came rollingin through the Pillars of Hercules and thepoor, afflicted, suffering man could not resist theawful temptation to cast himself into thatincoming tide, and he sank beneath its foamingcrest, never to rise in this life again.

When that old guide had told me that verysad story, he stopped the camel I was riding andwent back to fix the baggage on one of the othercamels, and I remember thinking to myself,"Why did he reserve that for his particularfriends?" There seemed to be no beginning, middleor end-nothing to it. That was the first story I everheard told or read in which the hero waskilled in the first chapter. I had but one chapter ofthat story and the hero was dead.

When the guide came back and took up thehalter of my camel again, he went right on withthe same story. He said that Al Hafed's successorled his camel out into the garden to drink,and as that camel put its nose down into the clearwater of the garden brook Al Hafed's successornoticed a curious flash of light from the sands of



the shallow stream, and reaching in he pulled out ablack stone having an eye of light that reflected allthe colors of the rainbow, and he took that curiouspebble into the house and left it on the mantel, thenwent on his way and forgot all about it.

A few days after that, this same old priestwho told Al Hafed how diamonds were made,came in to visit his successor, when he saw thatflash of light from the mantel. He rushed up andsaid, "Here is a diamond-here is a diamond! HasAl Hafed returned?" "No, no; Al Hafed has notreturned and that is not a diamond; that is nothingbut a stone; we found it right out here in ourgarden." "But I know a diamond when I see it,"said he; "that is a diamond!"

Then together they rushed to the garden andstirred up the white sands with their fingers andfound others more beautiful, more valuablediamonds than the first, and thus, said the guide tome, were discovered the diamond mines ofGolconda, the most magnificent diamond mines inall the history of mankind, exceeding theKimberley in its value. The great Kohinoordiamond in England's crown jewels and the largestcrown diamond on earth in Russia's crown jewels,which I had often hoped she would have to sellbefore they had peace with Japan, came fromthat mine, and when the old guide had called myattention to that wonderful discovery he tookhis Turkish cap off his head again and swung itaround in the air to call my attention to themoral.

Those Arab guides have a moral to eachstory, though the stories are not always moral. Hesaid had Al Hafed remained at home and dug in hisown cellar or in his own garden, instead ofwretchedness, starvation, poverty and death-astrange land, he would have had "acres of



diamonds"-for every acre, yes, every shovelful ofthat old farm afterwards revealed the gemswhich since have decorated the crowns ofmonarchs. When he had given the moral to hisstory, I saw why he had reserved this story for his"particular friends." I didn't tell him I could see it;

I was not going to tell that old Arab that Icould see it. For it was that mean old Arab's way ofgoing around such a thing, like a lawyer, andsaying indirectly what he did not dare say directly,that there was a certain young man that daytraveling down the Tigris River that might betterbe at home in America. I didn't tell him I could seeit.

I told him his story reminded me of one, andI told it to him quick. I told him about that man outin California, who, in 1847, owned a ranch outthere. He read that gold had been discovered inSouthern California, and he sold his ranch toColonel Sutter and started off to hunt for gold.Colonel Sutter put a mill on the little stream in thatfarm and one day his little girl brought somewet sand from the raceway of the mill into thehouse and placed it before the fire to dry, and asthat sand was falling through the little girl's fingersa visitor saw the first shining scales of realgold that were ever discovered in California; andthe man who wanted the gold had sold hisranch and gone away, never to return.

I delivered this lecture two years ago inCalifornia, in the city that stands near that farm,and they told me that the mine is not exhaustedyet, and that a one- third owner of that farm hasbeen getting during these recent years twentydollars of gold every fifteen minutes of his life,sleeping or waking. Why, you and I would enjoyan income like that!



But the best illustration that I have now ofthis thought was found here in Pennsylvania. Therewas a man living in Pennsylvania who owned afarm here and he did what I should do if I had afarm in Pennsylvania - he sold it. But before hesold it he concluded to secure employmentcollecting coal oil for his cousin in Canada. Theyfirst discovered coal oil there. So this farmer inPennsylvania decided that he would apply for aposition with his cousin in Canada. Now, yousee, the farmer was not altogether a foolish man.He did not leave his farm until he hadsomething else to do.

Of all the simpletons the stars shine on thereis none more foolish than a man who leavesone job before he has obtained another. And thathas especial reference to gentlemen of myprofession, and has no reference to a man seekinga divorce. So I say this old farmer did notleave one job until he had obtained another. Hewrote to Canada, but his cousin replied that hecould not engage him because he did not knowanything about the oil business. "Well, then,"said he, "I will understand it." So he set himself atthe study of the whole subject. He began atthe second day of the creation, he studied thesubject from the primitive vegetation to the coaloil stage, until he knew all about it. Then he wroteto his cousin and said, "Now I understandthe oil business." And his cousin replied to him,"All right, then, come on."

That man, by the record of the country, soldhis farm for eight hundred and thirty-three dollarseven money, "no cents." He had scarcely gonefrom that farm before the man who purchased itwent out to arrange for watering the cattle and hefound that the previous owner had arranged thematter very nicely. There is a stream running downthe hillside there, and the previous owner had gone



out and put a plank across that stream at an angle,extending across the brook and down edgewise afew inches under the surface of the water. Thepurpose of the plank across that brook was tothrow over to the other bank a dreadful-lookingscum through which the cattle would not put theirnoses to drink above the plank, although theywould drink the water on one side below it.

Thus that man who had gone to Canada hadbeen himself damming back for twenty-threeyears a flow of coal oil which the State Geologistof Pennsylvania declared officially, as early as1870, was then worth to our state a hundredmillions of dollars. The city of Titusville nowstands on that farm and those Pleasantville wellsflow on, and that farmer who had studied allabout the formation of oil since the second day ofGod's creation clear down to the presenttime, sold that farm for $833, no cents-again I say,"no sense."

But I need another illustration, and I foundthat in Massachusetts, and I am sorry I did,because that is my old state. This young man Imention went out of the state to study-wentdown to Yale College and studied mines andmining. They paid him fifteen dollars a weekduring his last year for training students who werebehind their classes in mineralogy, out ofhours, of course, while pursuing his own studies.But when he graduated they raised his payfrom fifteen dollars to forty-five dollars andoffered him a professorship. Then he went straighthome to his mother and said, "Mother, I won'twork for forty-five dollars a week. What isforty-five dollars a week for a man with a brainlike mine! Mother, let's go out to California andstake out gold claims and be immensely rich.""Now," said his mother, "it is just as well to behappy as it is to be rich."



But as he was the only son he had his way-they always do; and they sold out inMassachusetts and went to Wisconsin, where hewent into the employ of the Superior CopperMining Company, and he was lost from sight inthe employ of that company at fifteen dollars aweek again. He was also to have an interest in anymines that he should discover for thatcompany. But I do not believe that he has everdiscovered a mine-I do not know anythingabout it, but I do not believe he has. I know he hadscarcely gone from the old homesteadbefore the farmer who had bought the homesteadwent out to dig potatoes, and he wasbringing them in a large basket through the frontgateway, the ends of the stone wall came sonear together at the gate that the basket huggedvery tight. So he set the basket on the groundand pulled, first on one side and then on the otherside.

Our farms in Massachusetts are mostly stonewalls, and the farmers have to be economical withtheir gateways in order to have some place to putthe stones. That basket hugged so tight therethat as he was hauling it through he noticed in theupper stone next the gate a block of nativesilver, eight inches square; and this professor ofmines and mining and mineralogy, who wouldnot work for forty-five dollars a week, when hesold that homestead in Massachusetts, sat righton that stone to make the bargain. He was broughtup there; he had gone back and forth bythat piece of silver, rubbed it with his sleeve, and itseemed to say, "Come now, now, now,here is a hundred thousand dollars. Why not takeme? " But he would not take it. There was nosilver in Newburyport; it was all away off-well, Idon't know where; he didn't, but



somewhere else-and he was a professor ofmineralogy.

I do not know of anything I would enjoybetter than to take the whole time tonighttelling of blunders like that I have heard professorsmake. Yet I wish I knew what that man isdoing out there in Wisconsin. I can imagine himout there, as he sits by his fireside, and he issaying to his friends. "Do you know that manConwell that lives in Philadelphia?" "Oh, yes, Ihave heard of him." "And do you know that manJones that lives in that city?" "Yes, I haveheard of him." And then he begins to laugh andlaugh and says to his friends, "They have donethe same thing I did, precisely." And that spoils thewhole joke, because you and I have doneit.

Ninety out of every hundred people herehave made that mistake this very day. I say youought to be rich; you have no right to be poor. Tolive in Philadelphia and not be rich is a misfortune,and it is doubly a misfortune, because you couldhave been rich just as well as be poor.Philadelphia furnishes so many opportunities. Youought to be rich. But persons with certainreligious prejudice will ask, "How can you spendyour time advising the rising generation to givetheir time to getting money-dollars and cents-thecommercial spirit?"

Yet I must say that you ought to spend timegetting rich. You and I know there are some thingsmore valuable than money; of course, we do. Ah,yes! By a heart made unspeakably sad by agrave on which the autumn leaves now fall, I knowthere are some things higher and granderand sublimer than money. Well does the manknow, who has suffered, that there are some



things sweeter and holier and more sacred thangold. Nevertheless, the man of common sensealso knows that there is not any one of those thingsthat is not greatly enhanced by the use ofmoney. Money is power.

Love is the grandest thing on God's earth,but fortunate the lover who has plenty of money.Money is power: money has powers; and for a manto say, "I do not want money," is to say, "Ido not wish to do any good to my fellowmen." It isabsurd thus to talk. It is absurd todisconnect them. This is a wonderfully great life,and you ought to spend your time gettingmoney, because of the power there is in money.And yet this religious prejudice is so great thatsome people think it is a great honor to be one ofGod's poor. I am looking in the faces ofpeople who think just that way.

I heard a man once say in a prayer-meetingthat he was thankful that he was one of God'spoor, and then I silently wondered what his wifewould say to that speech, as she took inwashing to support the man while he sat andsmoked on the veranda. I don't want to see anymore of that kind of God's poor. Now, when a mancould have been rich just as well, and he isnow weak because he is poor, he has done somegreat wrong; he has been untruthful tohimself; he has been unkind to his fellowmen. Weought to get rich if we can by honorable andChristian methods, and these are the only methodsthat sweep us quickly toward the goal ofriches.

I remember, not many years ago, a youngtheological student who came into my officeand said to me that he thought it was his duty tocome in and "labor with me." I asked him what



had happened, and he said: "I feel it is my duty tocome in and speak to you, sir, and say thatthe Holy Scriptures declare that money is the rootof all evil." I asked him where he found thatsaying, and he said he found it in the Bible. I askedhim whether he had made a new Bible, andhe said, no, he had not gotten a new Bible, that itwas in the old Bible. "Well," I said, "if it is inmy Bible, I never saw it. Will you please get thetextbook and let me see it?"

He left the room and soon came stalking inwith his Bible open, with all the bigoted pride ofthe narrow sectarian, who founds his creed onsome misinterpretation of Scripture, and he putsthe Bible down on the table before me and fairlysquealed into my ear, "There it is. You can read itfor yourself." I said to him, "Young man, you willlearn, when you get a little older, that youcannot trust another denomination to read theBible for you." I said, "Now, you belong toanother denomination. Please read it to me, andremember that you are taught in a schoolwhere emphasis is exegesis." So he took the Bibleand read it: "The love of money is the root ofall evil." Then he had it right.

The Great Book has come back into theesteem and love of the people, and into the respectof the greatest minds of earth, and now you canquote it and rest your life and your death on itwithout more fear. So, when he quoted right fromthe Scriptures he quoted the truth. "The loveof money is the root of all evil." Oh, that is it. It isthe worship of the means instead of the end.Though you cannot reach the end without themeans. When a man makes an idol of the moneyinstead of the purposes for which it may be used,when he squeezes the dollar until the eaglesqueals, then it is made the root of all evil. Think,if you only had the money, what you could do



for your wife, your child, and for your home andyour city. Think how soon you could endowthe Temple College yonder if you only had themoney and the disposition to give it; and yet, myfriend, people say you and I should not spend thetime getting rich. How inconsistent the wholething is. We ought to be rich, because money haspower.

I think the best thing for me to do is toillustrate this, for if I say you ought to get rich, Iought, at least, to suggest how it is done. We get aprejudice against rich men because of the lies thatare told about them. The lies that are told aboutMr. Rockefeller because he has two hundredmillion dollars-so many believe them; yet howfalse is the representation of that man to theworld. How little we can tell what is truenowadays when newspapers try to sell their papersentirely on some sensation! The way they lie aboutthe rich men is something terrible, and I donot know that there is anything to illustrate thisbetter than what the newspapers now say aboutthe city of Philadelphia.

A young man came to me the other day andsaid, "If Mr. Rockefeller, as you think, isa good man, why is it that everybody says so muchagainst him?" It is because he has gottenahead of us; that is the whole of it-just gottenahead of us. Why is it Mr. Carnegie is criticizedso sharply by an envious world! Because he hasgotten more than we have. If a man knowsmore than I know, don't I incline to criticizesomewhat his learning? Let a man stand in a pulpitand preach to thousands, and if I have fifteenpeople in my church, and they're all asleep, don'tI criticize him? We always do that to the man whogets ahead of us. Why, the man you arecriticizing has one hundred millions, and you havefifty cents, and both of you have just what



you are worth.

One of the richest men in this country cameinto my home and sat down in my parlor and said:"Did you see all those lies about my family in thepapers?" "Certainly I did; I knew they werelies when I saw them." "Why do they lie about methe way they do?" "Well," I said to him, "ifyou will give me your check for one hundredmillions, I will take all the lies along with it.""Well," said he, "I don't see any sense in their thustalking about my family and myself. Conwell,tell me frankly, what do you think the Americanpeople think of me?" "Well," said I, "they thinkyou are the blackest hearted villain that ever trodthe soil!" "But what can I do about it?" Thereis nothing he can do about it, and yet he is one ofthe sweetest Christian men I ever knew. Ifyou get a hundred millions you will have the lies;you will be lied about, and you can judge yoursuccess in any line by the lies that are told aboutyou. I say that you ought to be rich.

But there are ever coming to me young menwho say, "I would like to go into business, but Icannot." "Why not?" "Because I have no capital tobegin on." Capital, capital to begin on!What! young man! Living in Philadelphia andlooking at this wealthy generation, all of whombegan as poor boys, and you want capital to beginon? It is fortunate for you that you have nocapital. I am glad you have no money. I pity a richman's son. A rich man's son in these days ofours occupies a very difficult position. They are tobe pitied. A rich man's son cannot know thevery best things in human life. He cannot. Thestatistics of Massachusetts show us that not oneout of seventeen rich men's sons ever die rich.They are raised in luxury, they die in poverty.Even if a rich man's son retains his father's money,even then he cannot know the best things of



life.

A young man in our college yonder askedme to formulate for him what I thought was thehappiest hour in a man's history, and I studied itlong and came back convinced that thehappiest hour that any man ever sees in any earthlymatter is when a young man takes his brideover the threshold of the door, for the first time, ofthe house he himself has earned and built,when he turns to his bride and with an eloquencegreater than any language of mine, he sayethto his wife, "My loved one, I earned this homemyself; I earned it all. It is all mine, and I divideit with thee." That is the grandest moment a humanheart may ever see. But a rich man's soncannot know that. He goes into a finer mansion, itmay be, but he is obliged to go through thehouse and say, "Mother gave me this, mother gaveme that, my mother gave me that, mymother gave me that," until his wife wishes shehad married his mother.

Oh, I pity a rich man's son. I do. Until hegets so far along in his dudeism that he gets hisarms up like that and can't get them down. Didn'tyou ever see any of them astray at Atlantic City? Isaw one of these scarecrows once and I never tirethinking about it. I was at Niagara Fallslecturing, and after the lecture I went to the hotel,and when I went up to the desk there stoodthere a millionaire's son from New York. He wasan indescribable specimen of anthropologicpotency. He carried a goldheaded cane under hisarm-more in its head than he had in his. Ido not believe I could describe the young man if Ishould try. But still I must say that he worean eye-glass he could not see through; patentleather shoes he could not walk in, and pants hecould not sit down in-dressed like a grasshopper!



Well, this human cricket came up to theclerk's desk just as I came in. He adjusted hisunseeing eye-glass in this wise and lisped to theclerk, because it's "Hinglish, you know," to lisp:"Thir, thir, will you have the kindness to fuhnishme with thome papah and thome envelopehs!" Theclerk measured that man quick, and he pulled out adrawer and took some envelopes and paper andcast them across the counter and turned away tohis books.

You should have seen that specimen ofhumanity when the paper and envelopes cameacross the counter-he whose wants had alwaysbeen anticipated by servants. He adjusted hisunseeing eye-glass and he yelled after that clerk:"Come back here, thir, come right back here.Now, thir, will you order a thervant to take thatpapah and thothe envelopehs and carry themto yondah dethk." Oh, the poor, miserable,contemptible American monkey! He couldn't carrypaper and envelopes twenty feet. I suppose hecould not get his arms down. I have no pity forsuch travesties of human nature. If you have nocapital, I am glad of it. You don't need capital;you need common sense, not copper cents.

A. T. Stewart, the great princely merchant ofNew York, the richest man in America in histime, was a poor boy; he had a dollar and a halfand went into the mercantile business. But helost eighty-seven and a half cents of his first dollarand a half because he bought some needlesand thread and buttons to sell, which people didn'twant.

Are you poor? It is because you are notwanted and are left on your own hands.There was the great lesson. Apply it whicheverway you will it comes to every single person's



life, young or old. He did not know what peopleneeded, and consequently bought somethingthey didn't want, and had the goods left on hishands a dead loss. A. T. Stewart learned therethe great lesson of his mercantile life and said "Iwill never buy anything more until I first learnwhat the people want; then I'll make the purchase."He went around to the doors and askedthem what they did want, and when he found outwhat they wanted, he invested his sixty-twoand a half cents and began to supply a "knowndemand." I care not what your profession oroccupation in life may be; I care not whether youare a lawyer, a doctor, a housekeeper,teacher or whatever else, the principle is preciselythe same. We must know what the worldneeds first and then invest ourselves to supply thatneed, and success is almost certain.

A. T. Stewart went on until he was worthforty millions. "Well," you will say, "a man can dothat in New York, but cannot do it here inPhiladelphia." The statistics very carefullygathered in New York in 1889 showed onehundred and seven millionaires in the city worthover ten millions apiece. It was remarkable andpeople think they must go there to get rich. Out ofthat one hundred and seven millionaires only sevenof them made their money in New York, and theothers moved to New York after their fortuneswere made, and sixty- seven out of theremaining hundred made their fortunes in towns ofless than six thousand people, and the richestman in the country at that time lived in a town ofthirty-five hundred inhabitants, and alwayslived there and never moved away. It is not somuch where you are as what you are. But at thesame time if the largeness of the city comes intothe problem, then remember it is the smallercity that furnishes the great opportunity to makethe millions of money.



The best illustration that I can give is inreference to John Jacob Astor, who was a poor boyand who made all the money of the Astor family.He made more than his successors have everearned, and yet he once held a mortgage on amillinery store in New York, and because thepeople could not make enough money to pay theinterest and the rent, he foreclosed themortgage and took possession of the store andwent into partnership with the man who hadfailed. He kept the same stock, did not give them adollar of capital, and he left them alone andhe went out and sat down upon a bench in the park.

Out there on that bench in the park he hadthe most important, and, to my mind, thepleasantest part of that partnership business. Hewas watching the ladies as they went by; andwhere is the man that wouldn't get rich at thatbusiness? But when John Jacob Astor saw a ladypass, with her shoulders back and her head up, as ifshe did not care if the whole world lookedon her, he studied her bonnet; and before thatbonnet was out of sight he knew the shape of theframe and the color of the trimmings, the curl ofthe-something on a bonnet. Sometimes I tryto describe a woman's bonnet, but it is of little use,for it would be out of style tomorrow night.

So John Jacob Astor went to the store andsaid: "Now, put in the show window just such abonnet as I describe to you because," said he, "Ihave just seen a lady who likes just such abonnet. Do not make up any more till I comeback." And he went out again and sat on thatbench in the park, and another lady of a differentform and complexion passed him with abonnet of different shape and color, of course."Now," said he, "put such a bonnet as that in theshow window."



He didn't fill his show window with hats andbonnets which drive people away and then sit inthe back of the store and bawl because the peoplego somewhere else to trade. He didn't put ahat or bonnet in that show window the like ofwhich he had not seen before it was made up.

In our city especially, there are greatopportunities for manufacturing, and the time hascome when the line is drawn very sharply betweenthe stockholders of the factory and theiremployees. Now, friends, there has also come adiscouraging gloom upon this country and thelaboring men are beginning to feel that they arebeing held down by a crust over their headsthrough which they find it impossible to break, andthe aristocratic moneyowner-himself is sofar above that he will never descend to theirassistance. That is the thought that is in the mindsof our people. But, friends, never in the history ofour country was there an opportunity sogreat for the poor man to get rich as there is nowand in the city of Philadelphia. The very factthat they get discouraged is what prevents themfrom getting rich. That is all there is to it. Theroad is open, and let us keep it open between thepoor and the rich.

I know that the labor unions have two greatproblems to contend with, and there is only oneway to solve them. The labor unions are doing asmuch to prevent its solving as are capitaliststoday, and there are positively two sides to it. Thelabor union has two difficulties; the first oneis that it began to make a labor scale for all classeson a par, and they scale down a man thatcan earn five dollars a day to two and a half a day,in order to level up to him an imbecile thatcannot earn fifty cents a day.



That is one of the most dangerous anddiscouraging things for the working man. Hecannot get the results of his work if he do betterwork or higher work or work longer; that is adangerous thing, and in order to get every laboringman free and every American equal to every otherAmerican, let the laboring man ask what he isworth and get it-not let any capitalist say to him:"You shall work for me for half of what you areworth"; nor let any labor organization say: "Youshall work for the capitalist for half your worth."

Be a man, be independent, and then shall thelaboring man find the roar ever open from povertyto wealth.

The other difficulty that the labor union hasto consider, and this problem they have to solvethemselves, is the kind of orators who come andtalk to them about the oppressive rich. I can inmy dreams recite the oration I have heard againand again under such circumstances. My lifehas been with the laboring man. I am a laboringman myself. I have often, in their assemblies,heard the speech of the man who has been invitedto address the labor union.

The man gets up before the assembledcompany of honest laboring men and he begins bysaying: "Oh, ye honest, industrious laboring men,who have furnished all the capital of the world,who have built all the palaces and constructed allthe railroads and covered the ocean with hersteamships. Oh, you laboring men! You arenothing but slaves; you are ground down in thedust by the capitalist who is gloating over you ashe enjoys his beautiful estates and as he has hisbanks filled with gold, and every dollar he owns iscoined out of the heart's blood of the honestlaboring man."



Now, that is a lie, and you know it is a lie; and yetthat is the kind of speech that they arehearing all the time, representing the capitalists aswicked and the laboring man so enslaved.

Why, how wrong it is! Let the man wholoves his flag and believes in American principlesendeavor with all his soul to bring the capitalistsand the laboring man together until they standside by side, and arm in arm, and work for thecommon good of humanity.

He is an enemy to his country who setscapital against labor or labor against capital.

Suppose I were to go down through thisaudience and ask you to introduce me to thegreat inventors who live here in Philadelphia. "Theinventors of Philadelphia," you would say,"why, we don't have any in Philadelphia. It is tooslow to invent anything." But you do have justas great inventors, and they are here in thisaudience, as ever invented a machine. But theprobability is that the greatest inventor to benefitthe world with his discovery is some person,perhaps some lady, who thinks she could notinvent anything.

Did you ever study the history of inventionand see how strange it was that the man who madethe greatest discovery did it without any previousidea that he was an inventor? Who are thegreat inventors? They are persons with plain,straightforward common sense, who saw a needin the world and immediately applied themselvesto supply that need. If you want to inventanything, don't try to find it in the wheels in yourhead nor the wheels in your machine, but firstfind out what the people need, and then applyyourself to that need, and this leads to invention



on the part of people you would not dream ofbefore. The great inventors are simply great men;the greater the man the more simple the man; andthe more simple a machine, the more valuableit is.

Did you ever know a really great man? Hisways are so simple, so common, so plain, that youthink any one could do what he is doing. So it iswith the great men the world over. If youknow a really great man, a neighbor of yours, youcan go right up to him and say, "How areyou, Jim, good morning, Sam." Of course you can,for they are always so simple.

When I wrote the life of General Garfield,one of his neighbors took me to his back door, andshouted, "Jim, Jim, Jim!" and very soon "Jim"came to the door and General Garfield let me in* one of the grandest men of our century. Thegreat men of the world are ever so. I was downin Virginia and went up to an educationalinstitution and was directed to a man who wassetting out a tree. I approached him and said, "Doyou think it would be possible for me to seeGeneral Robert E. Lee, the President of theUniversity?" He said, "Sir, I am General Lee." Ofcourse, when you meet such a man, so noble a manas that, you will find him a simple, plainman. Greatness is always just so modest and greatinventions are simple.

I asked a class in school once who were thegreat inventors, and a little girl popped up andsaid, "Columbus." Well, now, she was not so farwrong. Columbus bought a farm and hecarried on that farm just as I carried on my father'sfarm. He took a hoe and went out and satdown on a rock. But Columbus, as he sat upon thatshore and looked out upon the ocean,



noticed that the ships, as they sailed away, sankdeeper into the sea the farther they went. Andsince that time some other "Spanish ships" havesunk into the sea. But as Columbus noticed thatthe tops of the masts dropped down out of sight, hesaid: "That is the way it is with this hoehandle; if you go around this hoe handle, thefarther off you go the farther down you go. I cansail around to the East Indies." How plain it allwas. How simple the mind-majestic like thesimplicity of a mountain in its greatness. Who arethe great inventors? They are ever the simple,plain, everyday people who see the need and setabout to supply it.

I was once lecturing in North Carolina, andthe cashier of the bank sat directly behind a ladywho wore a very large hat. I said to that audience,"Your wealth is too near to you; you arelooking right over it." He whispered to his friend,"Well, then, my wealth is in that hat." A littlelater, as he wrote me, I said, "Wherever there is ahuman need there is a greater fortune than amine can furnish." He caught my thought, and hedrew up his plan for a better hat pin than wasin the hat before him and the pin is now beingmanufactured. He was offered fifty-two thousanddollars for his patent. That man made his fortunebefore he got out of that hall. This is the wholequestion: Do you see a need?"

I remember well a man up in my native hills,a poor man, who for twenty years washelped by the town in his poverty, who owned awidespreading maple tree that covered thepoor man's cottage like a benediction from onhigh. I remember that tree, for in the spring-there were some roguish boys around thatneighborhood when I was young-in the spring ofthe year the man would put a bucket there and thespouts to catch the maple sap, and I



remember where that bucket was; and when I wasyoung the boys were, oh, so mean, thatthey went to that tree before that man had gottenout of bed in the morning, and after he hadgone to bed at night, and drank up that sweet sap, Icould swear they did it.

He didn't make a great deal of maple sugarfrom that tree. But one day he made the sugar sowhite and crystalline that the visitor did not believeit was maple sugar; thought maple sugarmust be red or black. He said to the old man: "Whydon't you make it that way and sell it forconfectionery?" The old man caught his thoughtand invented the "rock maple crystal," andbefore that patent expired he had ninety thousanddollars and had built a beautiful palace on thesite of that tree.

After forty years owning that tree he awoketo find it had fortunes of money indeed in it. Andmany of us are right by the tree that has a fortunefor us, and we own it, possess it, do what we willwith it, but we do not learn its value because we donot see the human need, and in these discoveriesand inventions that is one of the most romanticthings of life. I have received letters from all overthe country and from England, where I havelectured, saying that they have discovered this andthat, and one man out in Ohio took me through hisgreat factories last spring, and said that they costhim $680,000, and, said he, "I was not wortha cent in the world when I heard your lecture'Acres of Diamonds'; but I made up my mind tostop right here and make my fortune here, and hereit is." He showed me through his unmortgagedpossessions. And this is a continual experiencenow as I travel through the country, after thesemany years. I mention this incident, not to boast,but to show you that you can do the same if youwill.



Who are the great inventors? I remember agood illustration in a man who used to live in EastBrookfield, Mass. He was a shoemaker, and hewas out of work and he sat around the houseuntil his wife told him "to go out doors." And hedid what every husband is compelled by law todo-he obeyed his wife. And he went out and satdown on an ash barrel in his back yard.Think of it! Stranded on an ash barrel and theenemy in possession of the house! As he sat onthat ash barrel, he looked down into that littlebrook which ran through that back yard into themeadows, and he saw a little trout go flashing upthe stream and hiding under the bank. I do notsuppose he thought of Tennyson's beautiful poem:

"Chatter, chatter as I flow,To join the brimming river,Men may come, and men

may go, But I go on forever."

But as this man looked into the brook, heleaped off that ash barrel and managed to catch thetrout with his fingers, and sent it to Worcester.They wrote back that they would give afivedollar bill for another such trout as that, notthat it was worth that much, but they wished tohelp the poor man. So this shoemaker and his wife,now perfectly united, that five-dollar bill inprospect, went out to get another trout. They wentup the stream to its source and down to thebrimming river, but not another trout could theyfind in the whole stream; and so they camehome disconsolate and went to the minister. Theminister didn't know how trout grew, but hepointed the way. Said he, "Get Seth Green's book,and that will give you the information youwant."



They did so, and found all about the cultureof trout. They found that a trout lays thirty-sixhundred eggs every year and every trout gains aquarter of a pound every year, so that in fouryears a little trout will furnish four tons per annumto sell to the market at fifty cents a pound.When they found that, they said they didn't believeany such story as that, but if they could getfive dollars apiece they could make something.And right in that same back yard with the coalsifter up stream and window screen down thestream, they began the culture of trout. Theyafterwards moved to the Hudson, and since then hehas become the authority in the UnitedStates upon the raising of fish, and he has beennext to the highest on the United States FishCommission in Washington. My lesson is thatman's wealth was out here in his back yard fortwenty years, but he didn't see it until his wifedrove him out with a mop stick.

I remember meeting personally a poorcarpenter of Hingham, Massachusetts, who wasout of work and in poverty. His wife also drovehim out of doors. He sat down on the shoreand whittled a soaked shingle into a wooden chain.His children quarreled over it in the evening,and while he was whittling a second one, aneighbor came along and said, "Why don't youwhittle toys if you can carve like that?" He said, "Idon't know what to make!"

There is the whole thing. His neighbor saidto him: "Why don't you ask your own children?"Said he, "What is the use of doing that? Mychildren are different from other people'schildren."

I used to see people like that when I taughtschool. The next morning when his boy came



down the stairway, he said, "Sam, what do youwant for a toy?" "I want a wheelbarrow." When hislittle girl came down, he asked her what shewanted, and she said, "I want a little doll'swash-stand, a little doll's carriage, a little doll'sumbrella," and went on with a whole lot of thingsthat would have taken his lifetime to supply. Heconsulted his own children right there in hisown house and began to whittle out toys to pleasethem.

He began with his jack-knife, and madethose unpainted Hingham toys. He is the richestman in the entire New England States, if Mr.Lawson is to be trusted in his statement concerningsuch things, and yet that man's fortune was madeby consulting his own children in his own house.You don't need to go out of your own house to findout what to invent or what to make. Ialways talk too long on this subject. I would like tomeet the great men who are here tonight.The great men! We don't have any great men inPhiladelphia. Great men! You say that they allcome from London, or San Francisco, or Rome, orManayunk, or anywhere else but there-anywhere else but Philadelphia-and yet, in fact,there are just as great men in Philadelphia asin any city of its size. There are great men andwomen in this audience.

Great men, I have said, are very simple men.Just as many great men here as are to be foundanywhere. The greatest error in judging great menis that we think that they always hold anoffice. The world knows nothing of its greatestmen. Who are the great men of the world? Theyoung man and young woman may well ask thequestion. It is not necessary that they shouldhold an office, and yet that is the popular idea.That is the idea we teach now in our high



schools and common schools, that the great men ofthe world are those who hold some highoffice, and unless we change that very soon and doaway with that prejudice, we are going tochange to an empire. There is no question about it.We must teach that men are great only ontheir intrinsic value, and not on the position theymay incidentally happen to occupy. And yet,don't blame the young men saying that they aregoing to be great when they get into someofficial position.

I ask this audience again who of you aregoing to be great? Says a young man: "Iam going to be great." "When are you going to begreat?" "When I am elected to some politicaloffice." Won't you learn the lesson, young man;that it is prima facie evidence of littleness tohold public office under our form of government?Think of it. This is a government of thepeople, and by the people, and for the people, andnot for the officeholder, and if the people inthis country rule as they always should rule, anofficeholder is only the servant of the people,and the Bible says that "the servant cannot begreater than his master."

The Bible says that "he that is sent cannot begreater than he who sent him." In this country thepeople are the masters, and the officeholders cannever be greater than the people; they shouldbe honest servants of the people, but they are notour greatest men. Young man, remember thatyou never heard of a great man holding anypolitical office in this country unless he took thatoffice at an expense to himself. It is a loss to everygreat man to take a public office in ourcountry. Bear this in mind, young man, that youcannot be made great by a political election.



Another young man says, "I am going to bea great man in Philadelphia sometime." "Is that so? When are you going to begreat?" "When there comes another war! Whenwe get into difficulty with Mexico, or England, orRussia, or Japan, or with Spain again overCuba, or with New Jersey, I will march up to thecannon's mouth, and amid the glisteningbayonets I will tear down their flag from its staff,and I will come home with stars on myshoulders, and hold every office in the gift of thegovernment, and I will be great." "No, youwon't! No, you won't; that is no evidence of truegreatness, young man." But don't blame thatyoung man for thinking that way; that is the wayhe is taught in the high school. That is the wayhistory is taught in college. He is taught that themen who held the office did all the fighting.

I remember we had a Peace Jubilee here inPhiladelphia soon after the Spanish War. Perhapssome of these visitors think we should not havehad it until now in Philadelphia, and as the greatprocession was going up Broad Street I was toldthat the tally-ho coach stopped right in frontof my house, and on the coach was Hobson, and allthe people threw up their hats and swungtheir handkerchiefs, and shouted "Hurrah forHobson!" I would have yelled too, because hedeserves much more of his country that he has everreceived. But suppose I go into the highschool tomorrow and ask, "Boys, who sunk theMerrimac?" If they answer me "Hobson," theytell me seven-eighths of a lie-seven- eighths of alie, because there were eight men who sunkthe Merrimac. The other seven men, by virtue oftheir position, were continually exposed to theSpanish fire while Hobson, as an officer, mightreasonably be behind the smoke-stack.



Why, my friends, in this intelligent audiencegathered here tonight I do not believe I could finda single person that can name the other seven menwho were with Hobson. Why do we teachhistory in that way? We ought to teach thathowever humble the station a man may occupy, ifhe does his full duty in his place, he is just as muchentitled to the American people's honor as isa king upon a throne. We do teach it as a motherdid her little boy in New York when he said,"Mamma, what great building is that?" "That isGeneral Grant's tomb." "Who was GeneralGrant?" "He was the man who put down therebellion." Is that the way to teach history?

Do you think we would have gained avictory if it had depended on General Grant alone.Oh, no. Then why is there a tomb on the Hudson atall? Why, not simply because General Grantwas personally a great man himself, but that tombis there because he was a representative manand represented two hundred thousand men whowent down to death for this nation and manyof them as great as General Grant. That is why thatbeautiful tomb stands on the heights overthe Hudson.

I remember an incident that will illustratethis, the only one that I can give tonight. I amashamed of it, but I don't dare leave it out. I closemy eyes now; I look back through the years to1863; I can see my native town in the BerkshireHills, I can see that cattle-show ground filled withpeople; I can see the church there and the town hallcrowded, and hear bands playing, and seeflags flying and handkerchiefs streaming-well do Irecall at this moment that day.

The people had turned out to receive acompany of soldiers, and that company came



marching up on the Common. They had served outone term in the Civil War and had re-enlisted, andthey were being received by their nativetownsmen. I was but a boy, but I wascaptain of that company, puffed out with pride onthat day-why, a cambric needle wouldhave burst me all to pieces.

As I marched on the Common at the head ofmy company, there was not a man more proudthan I. We marched into the town hall and thenthey seated my soldiers down in the center ofthe house and I took my place down on the frontseat, and then the town officers filed throughthe great throng of people, who stood close andpacked in that little hall. They came up on theplatform, formed a half circle around it, and themayor of the town, the "chairman of theselectmen" in New England, took his seat in themiddle of that half circle.

He was an old man, his hair was gray; henever held an office before in his life. He thoughtthat an office was all he needed to be a truly greatman, and when he came up he adjusted hispowerful spectacles and glanced calmly around theaudience with amazing dignity. Suddenly hiseyes fell upon me, and then the good old mancame right forward and invited me to come up onthe stand with the town officers. Invited me up onthe stand! No town officer ever took noticeof me before I went to war. Now, I should not saythat. One town officer was there who advised theteachers to "whale" me, but I mean no "honorablemention."

So I was invited up on the stand with thetown officers. I took my seat and let my sword fallon the floor, and folded my arms across my breastand waited to be received. Napoleon the Fifth!



Pride goeth before destruction and a fall. When Ihad gotten my seat and all became silentthrough the hall, the chairman of the selectmenarose and came forward with great dignity to thetable, and we all supposed he would introduce theCongregational minister, who was the onlyorator in the town, and who would give the orationto the returning soldiers.

But, friends, you should have seen thesurprise that ran over that audience when theydiscovered that this old farmer was going todeliver that oration himself. He had never made aspeech in his life before, but he fell into the sameerror that others have fallen into, he seemed tothink that the office would make him an orator. Sohe had written out a speech and walked upand down the pasture until he had learned it byheart and frightened the cattle, and he broughtthat manuscript with him, and, taking it from hispocket, he spread it carefully upon the table.

Then he adjusted his spectacles to be surethat he might see it, and walked far back on theplatform and then stepped forward like this. Hemust have studied the subject much, for heassumed an elocutionary attitude; he rested heavilyupon his left heel, slightly advanced the rightfoot, threw back his shoulders, opened the organsof speech, and advanced his right hand at anangle of forty-five.

As he stood in this elocutionary attitude thisis just the way that speech went, this is itprecisely. Some of my friends have asked me if Ido not exaggerate it, but I could notexaggerate it. Impossible! This is the way it went;although I am not here for the story but thelesson that is back of it:



"Fellow citizens." As soon as he heard hisvoice, his hand began to shake like that, his kneesbegan to tremble, and then he shook all over. Hecoughed and choked and finally came aroundto look at his manuscript. Then he began again:"Fellow citizens: We-are-we are-we are* we are-We are very happy-we are very happy-weare very happy-to welcome back to their nativetown these soldiers who have fought and bled-andcome back again to their native town. We areespecially-we are especially-we are especially-weare especially pleased to see with us today thisyoung hero (that meant me~this young hero who inimagination (friends, remember, he said'imagination,' for if he had not said that, I wouldnot be egotistical enough to refer to it) this younghero who, in imagination, we have seen leading histroops-leading-we have seen leading-we have seenleading his troops on to the deadly breach. Wehave seen his shining-his shining-we have seen hisshining-we have seen his shining-his shiningsword-flashing in the sunlight as he shouted to histroops, 'Come on!"'

Oh dear, dear, dear, dear! How little thatgood, old man knew about war. If he hadknown anything about war, he ought to haveknown what any soldier in this audience knows istrue, that it is next to a crime for an officer ofinfantry ever in time of danger to go ahead of hismen. I, with my shining sword flashing in thesunlight, shouting to my troops: "Come on." Inever did it. Do you suppose I would go ahead ofmy men to be shot in the front by the enemy and inthe back by my own men? That is no place for anofficer. The place for the officer is behind theprivate soldier in actual fighting.

How often, as a staff officer, I rode downthe line when the rebel cry and yell was coming



out of the woods, sweeping along over the fields,and shouted, "Officers to the rear! Officers to therear!" and then every officer goes behind the lineof battle, and the higher the officer rank, thefarther behind he goes. Not because he is any theless brave, but because the laws of warrequire that to be done. If the general came up onthe front line and were killed you would loseyour battle anyhow, because he has the plan of thebattle in his brain, and must be kept incomparative safety.

I, with my "shining sword flashing in thesunlight." Ah! There sat in the hall that day menwho had given that boy their last hardtack, whohad carried him on their backs through deep rivers.But some were not there; they had gone down todeath for their country. The speaker mentionedthem, but they were but little noticed, and yet theyhad gone down to death for their country, gonedown for a cause they believed was right and stillbelieve was right, though I grant to the other sidethe same that I ask for myself. Yet these men whohad actually died for their country were littlenoticed, and the hero of the hour was this boy.

Why was he the hero? Simply because thatman fell into the same foolishness. This boy wasan officer, and those were only private soldiers. Ilearned a lesson that I will never forget.Greatness consists not in holding some office;greatness really consists in doing some greatdeed with little means, in the accomplishment ofvast purposes from the private ranks of life,that is true greatness.

He who can give to this people better streets,better homes, better schools, better churches,more religion, more of happiness, more of God, hethat can be a blessing to the community in



which he lives tonight will be great anywhere, buthe who cannot be a blessing where he nowlives will never be great anywhere on the face ofGod's earth. "We live in deeds, not years, infeeling, not in figures on a dial; in thoughts, notbreaths; we should count time by heart throbs, inthe cause of right." Bailey says: "He most liveswho thinks most."

If you forget everything I have said to you,do not forget this, because it contains more in twolines than all I have said. Baily says: "He mostlives who thinks most, who feels the noblest, andwho acts the best."

(The End)

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