By George Matthew Adams

I saw a juggler. He was the most wonderful artist in his line that I had ever seen. He threw great knives into the air by the dozen, caught them all, and actually played with them while they paced a circle in the air.

I watched a dancer, whose lithe form seemed like that of some super-fairy just dropped from Imaginary-land. Her form moved in perfect unison with the notes that gave rhythm to her movements.

I listened to a man play upon a strange instrument. It seemed as though the tones played hide and seek — and then, like lightning, they would meet again, to trot in single, now double, now triple file, while the audience sat spellbound. The crowd applauded, while I sat fascinated, wondering about the secret of it all.

And this was the secret — work!

Houdini, the great magician, once interestingly told about the methods he used in attaining his marvelous success, how, on reaching a town where he was to perform, he immediately hired a loft, put up his traps and began to — work! And how, on trains, he sat for hours and evolved new tricks and mysteries, with which to dazzle millions the next season.

The greatest actor I ever saw was Joseph Jefferson. I never felt that he played a part — he was the part.

There never was, and there never will be, a royal road to achievement. But the road called "work" is free to all — any man may walk with impunity over it, without one word of apology.

If you want the immortal gods on your side — work. If you want your dreams to come true — work!

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