Part 1 (2/2)

My best-known lecture, ”Acres of Diamonds,” was a mere accidental address, at first given before a reunion of my old comrades of the Forty-sixth Ma.s.sachusetts Regiment, which served in the Civil War, and in which I was captain. I had no thought of giving the address again, and even after it began to be called for by lecture committees I did not dream that I should live to deliver it, as I now have done, almost five thousand times. ”What is the secret of its popularity?” I could never explain to myself or others. I simply know that I always attempt to enthuse myself on each occasion with the idea that it is a special opportunity to do good, and I interest myself in each community and apply the general principles with local ill.u.s.trations.

RUSSELL H. CONWELL.

SOUTH WORTHINGTON, Ma.s.sACHUSETTS,

_September 1, 1913_.

[Footnote 1: These pages are taken from an autobiographical chapter in Doctor Conwell's previous book, _Acres of Diamonds_, published by Harper & Brothers.]

OBSERVATION:--EVERY MAN HIS OWN UNIVERSITY

I

OBSERVATION--THE KEY TO SUCCESS

Years ago we went up the Ganges River in India. I was then a traveling correspondent, and we visited Argra, the sacred city of northern India, going thence to the Taj Mahal. Then we hired an ox team to take us across country twenty-two miles to visit the summer home of Ackba, the great Mogul of India. That is a wonderful, but dead city.

I have never been sorry that I traversed that country. What I saw and heard furnished me with a story which I have never seen in print.

_Harper's Magazine_ recently published an ill.u.s.trated article upon the city, so that if you secure the files you may find the account of that wonderful dead city at Futtepore Sicree.

As we were being shown around those buildings the old guide, full of Eastern lore, told us a tradition connected with the ancient history of that place which has served me often as an ill.u.s.tration of the practical ideas I desire to advance. I wrote it down in the ”hen tracks” of short-hand which are now difficult to decipher. But I remember well the story.

He said that there was a beautiful palace on that spot before the great Mogul purchased it. That previous palace was the scene of the traditional story. In the palace there was a throne-room, and at the head of that room there was a raised platform, and upon the platform was placed the throne of burnished gold. Beside the throne was a pedestal upon which rested the wonderful Crown of Silver, which the emperor wore when his word was to be actual law. At other times he was no more than an ordinary citizen. But when he a.s.sumed that crown, which was made of silver because silver was then worth much more than gold, his command was as absolute as the law of the Medes and Persians.

The guide said that when the old king who had ruled that country for many years died he was without heirs, leaving no person to claim that throne or to wear that Crown of Silver. The people, believing in the divine right of kings, were unwilling to accept any person to rule who was not born in the royal line. They wasted twelve years in searching for some successor, some relative of the late king. At last the people sank into anarchy, business ceased, famine overspread the land, and the afflicted people called upon the astrologers--their priests--to find a king.

The astrologers, who then wors.h.i.+ped the stars, met in that throne-room and, consulting their curious charts, asked of the stars:

”Where shall we find a successor to our king?”

The stars made to them this reply:

”Look up and down your country, and when you find _a man whom the animals follow, the sun serves, the waters obey, and mankind love_, you need not ask who his ancestors were. This man will be one of the royal line ent.i.tled to the throne of gold and the Crown of Silver.”

The astrologers dispersed and began to ask of the people:

”Have you seen a man whom the animals follow, the sun serves, the waters obey, and mankind love?”

They were only met with ridicule. At last, in his travels, one gray old astrologer found his way into the depths of the Himalaya Mountains. He was overtaken by a December storm and sought shelter in a huntsman's cottage on the side of a mountain.

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