New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1882-04-16
SALT WITHOUT SAVOR.

tries to guess IL, What Is the secret OF sue
cess Why does i'll luck dog one man, who Is
not only good looking and attractive but hon
est and hard working, while a tricky, val gar
fellow with plebcian brain, gains reputation,
happiness and fortune2 What peculiar quality
is itinaman which enables him to get Whatever
object he sets before him as best worth having
Our middlc-agcd reader out of his experience
can tell us that it is not genius which brings
down the big prizes Of life; nor talent and
sharpness, however skilfully trained; the man
born to money or influence does not always sue
coed, neither does the patient drudge, however
hard he strive. Faith in God or the lack of it
does not seem to affect the matter mt all. lie
docs not invariably reward His disciples with
the fulflment of their own pet plans; now it is
the SAINT who is ahead in the race ut college or
i'm the world Of trade literature or society, and
now the sharper. You cannot gauge mans
religion by the amount OF lis popularity or
bank stock.
What is it, then? What is The secret which
some men possess which forces difficulties out Of
SIGHT and cOmpels better and cleycTer men than
themselves to work for them; serve as rungs
for their ladder to fortune? We think it will
be found that all successful men have one Pc
culiar trait in common. Each has had only Il
single aim in life, and has pursued it with an
nexorable intensity of purpose, regardless Of
outside issues or consequences. In proportion
rs the aim is limited and in proportion rs the
whole man is absorbed in his direct purpose, he
is likely to succeed His object may be the
preaching Of the gospel, it MAY be the selling
of a patent plough, it may be great heroic
truth CT a gigantic swindle, but if lie believes
in it absolutely, if he shoulders it with fiery
zeal, he will as a rule carry 1t through and COM
pei other men to believe III it and shoulder 1t
too; while if he lags along, half-hearted, I'M
certain, doubling it and himself, he and his
cause will fall by the way.
Now every genuine young man begins his
career with a fash of this hot live faith in bis
own business in the world. 1t may be q trade
or profession, or q hobby Or reform, or the
greatest cause of all, the serving of Christ; but
to HIM it is the one real thing that lie knows.
1t is the lifc-sayng boat and lie is the pilot; 1t
is the bridge just built across Niagara, and he
is the engineer But by the time he is forty
the flash has died out. He begins 10 see that
there arc more pursuits in the world than one;
the energy which, when pcnt Ill one channel
10y the ntolerant blgotry of youth, flowed like
Il mountain torrent, oozes now through
thousand openings, broad, shallow and slug
gish. Or he grows selfish why should he risk
his comfort and life in saving other people 1t
is enough for him to take care OF vile and chill
drcn without manning life boats or building
bridges over Niagara. With most OF us, how
ever our occupation or 'errand into the world
has lost interest and zcst for the commonplace
reason of too great familiarity. Ninety-ninc
out of a hundred of the men and women who
crowd Broadway are in some kind of a rut and
4 rut, like the tracks of the street cars,
though it makes pulling easier for the horse, is
apt to return on itself; it leads nowhere. This
is why the middle-aged doctor OF lawyer joys
through his work without honor or profit; all be
asks ROW of the noble profession which fled
his ambition at first is to pay his bills. His
pleasures lie outside of it, in his club, III art, In
his dinner. This explains why, when artists or
authors meet, shop" is SO often talked instead
of the great truths which outsiders would ex-
pcct TO hear in Il convection of seers. Ihls IS
why 50 many clergymcn preach Sunday alter
Sunday dreary plattudes Which drive men out
of the pews and leave only the women, whose
devotion is ardent enough to inform the dead
words with life TO their souls. Ii Is not that his
profession, his art or his religion is not dear to
each of these men but he is no longer in love
with 1t. HIS brain is tired of looking at it
closely. 1t has grown commonplace and dull to
him. The salt has lost its SAVIOR. Hence 1t
comes chat the artist, the professional man, the
clergyman, though they work far harder than
at first do not succeed. There is something
lacking in the book, the picture the sermon; 1t
is without lcayen; the world does not want 1t.
Now, how is the man to put life into his work
again The most sensible thing which
man can do, when his work grows to be only
load TO be hauled in Il rut, is to get out OF his
rut, step aside from it long enough to look at 1t
with strangers eyes. 1t is the mlddcaged
man more than the boy who needs the long
Journey to California, to Europe, anywhere
among new habits and new peoples. Ii the
artist or author would turn his back on his COM
rades and scramble on to some other level in
life than that of his own trade, he would better
see the possibilities of his work. If the clergy
man would sometimes shut up his study, lay of
his white cravat and all the prerOgatives Of his
office, and go down to jostle and be j0stled IN
the crowd, he would come to his pulpit with
different perceptions of the devils actual power
over Door men and women, and OF Chrlsts lnh-
mite mercy.
This kind Of paralysis which we describe Is
becoming chronic and universal disease
among us. Change of air is II simple remedy
L., e -. q, atl..