cleared land or cities, will bear witness that a savage may be a perfect
gentleman. Now as I write their faces rise before me. Joyous, free
limbed, white toothed swimmers in Samoan surf, a Hawaiian eel-catcher, a
Mexican peon with his "sombrero trailing in the dust," a deferential
Japanese farm boy anticipating your every want, a sturdy Chinaman
without grace and without sensitiveness, but with the saving quality of
loyalty to his own word, herdsmen of the Pennine Alps, Aleuts, Indians
and Negroes, each race has its noblemen and through these humanity is
ennobled. It is worth while to go far from Boston to find that such
things are true.

And we may look not alone among primitive folk who have never envied us
our civilization or ever cared that we possessed it. Badalia Herodsfoot,
in Kipling's story, lived and died in darkest London. Gentle hearts and
pure souls exist among our own unfortunates, those to whom our society
has shown only its destroying side. All misery and failure as well as
all virtue has its degrees, and our social scheme is still far from the
demands of perfect justice.

Some one has said that "the wise young man will wear out three dress
suits in a year." This is a playful way of saying that he will not shun
men and women, even those bound by the conventions of society. All such
association can be made to pay--not in money--but in getting the point
of view of other people. This is worth while if not costing too much of
time and strength. There is another maxim which can offset the first. It
is from Lorimer's Chicago pork packer: "You will meet fools enough
during the day without trying to roundup the main herd of them at
night." But even the main herd of fools may teach its lesson to the
student of human nature. It gives at least a point of departure in the
study of wisdom. To study men or to kill time. What is your motive? The