And now this is the reverse side of that shield.  Let the world give to the young man a little start, a little help, a little foothold, a little encouragement.  And I repeat that by the world I mean the great mass of men who have ceased to be young men, or who, still young in years, have achieved places of power—­those who hold the reins of affairs and business, of industrial and social conditions.

I heard of a banker once who saw to it that at least once each week he hunted up some young man, bravely struggling, bravely fighting, and gave him some little assistance—­a piece of business, an opportunity, needful and kindly counsel—­something that moistened his parched lips, dry and hot from running the hard race that all youth must run for success.  I said to myself:  “There is something in reincarnation; the soul of Abou-ben-Adhem is dwelling in that banker’s heart.”

For years the greatest pleasure of my life has been that young boys have come to me from all over my State to talk about how they should proceed in life’s battle.  You, too, may have the pleasure of helping young men.  But beware how you do this, saying in your heart, “I will help this young man, and when he succeeds I will reap my reward.”  Such a selfish thought will utterly poison your advice, deflect your moral vision, distort your intellectual perceptions.

That man who advises a young man with the thought that some day he will be able to harvest personal advantage from that young man’s success, has probably by that very thought been rendered incapable of giving sound advice or profitable help.  Help the young man for his sake, for the sake of the great humanity of which he is a fresh and beautiful part, for the sake of that abstract good which, after all, is the only reward in this life worthy the consideration of a serious man.

I heard not long ago of a brilliant and crafty young politician who was and is an earnest champion and helper of a very successful and highly practical man in public life.  He had acquired some unfortunate traits.  He was suspicious, distrustful.  He feared betrayal here, a Judas there.  The caution increased his cunning but was impairing his character.  The man to whose fortunes he was attached called him in, in the midst of a great political battle on which the fortunes of that man depended, and said to his young lieutenant: 

“Success in this fight is important to me, but it is not so important as the impairing of your character which I see going on.  You are becoming permanently distrustful, suspicious.  You think one friend will fail us here, that that friend is untrue, that the other one may be influenced improperly.  Very soon you will begin to suspect me, then you will suspect yourself, and then—­then, you are utterly lost.  Stop it.  I would rather lose the fight than see your character become negative.”

That man was right, and the attitude he took in his advice to the young man was right.  Let the world quit encouraging young men to think that guile succeeds.  Let it encourage the faith that nothing but the noble and the good really succeed in the end.  Let every one point out to the young man confronting the world that it is not so great a thing after all to be “smart,” not so great a thing after all to be capable with the little tricks of life, but that it is everything to be good and trustful and fearless and constructive.