towering as the date-palm if they answer their end, and there are other trees which can never expect to be towering, for they were made, like the box, to keep near the ground. Some trees are for outward fruit, as the apple, and some for inward fruit, as the ash. Fruit is "correspondence in development with the purpose for which the tree exists," is "production in the line of the nature of the tree." When, then, the orange tree produces sound, sweet oranges that refresh the dry lips of an invalid or ornament the table of a prince, the orange tree does well; and if it produces such fruit to as large a degree as possible, and for as long a time as possible, it has done its best. So, too, does the pine do well when it produces wood wherewith a good house for family joy may be built, and the spruce does well when it brings forth a fiber that may be fashioned into paper on which words of truth can be printed, and the oak does well when it develops a grain suitable for the construction of a vessel that plowing the waves shall carry cargoes of merchandise. If the pine, the spruce, the oak, grow to the extent of their opportunity, and become all that they can become in the line of their own possibility, each and all have made the best use of their lives.

But how varied are the opportunities as well as the missions of trees, of the garden cherry and the forest poplar, of the swamp tamarack and the plantation catalpa! Trees of the same genus may be so differently placed that one can attain an abundant growth while another must strive hard simply to exist. An elm along a river bottom, fed by constant moisture, lifts wide arms to the sunlight, while an elm on a rocky hill, scarce finding crevices for its roots, necessarily is small and stunted. And still that stunted elm may, in its place, make or not make the best use of its life.

Human lives are as diversified in their natures as the growths of the field and forest. Our tastes, our aptitudes, our memories, our imaginations, widely vary. The world is made up of thousands upon thousands of different needs, that must be met if mankind is to prosper. Every function necessary for the world's welfare is an honorable function and becomes, when attempted by a consecrated heart, a sacred function. The world cannot live without cooking, nor can it live without building, nor without bartering, nor without teaching. How to make the best of the function or functions that are his, is the question every human being should ponder.

A man may make a bad use of his life. He may throw away his opportunities, he may wreck his powers of mind and body, he may tear down that good in the world which he was put here to build up. This is a possibility! Every life should understand that it is a possibility. John Newton held in his hand a ring. As he was leaning over the rail of an ocean vessel he had no thought that perhaps through careless handling he might drop that ring and lose it forever. His mind was entirely on the ring, not on the danger of losing the ring. Suddenly the ring slipped through his fingers, and before he could get hold of it again, it was in the depths of the sea. It is for this reason that the book of Proverbs is constantly calling to men to see that the priceless jewels of opportunity are "retained," and that Christ's word, "not to let our light become darkness," has so much significance. Men often squander fortunes. They also squander virtues and reputation and aptitudes and opportunities. Jails, reformatories, houses of detention, drunkards' graves, the gathering places of tramps, all tell us that people can make a miserable use of life. So does many a beautiful banquet-hall, many a luxurious home, many a speculator's resort, many a student's room, tell us that those we see there have had powers of mind and body and opportunities of social position and of wealth which they have thrown away. They have wasted their good as truly as a prodigal who has spent his all in riotous living. They are Jeroboams; dowered with gifts that might have been used for their own development and the welfare of others they have let mean and low and unworthy attractions secure their gifts, thus spoiling their own characters and causing Israel to sin. Every blessing that a man has may become his curse, and drag him down and drag others down with him.

This truth is well known. The other truth is not so well known, that a man may make an inferior use of his life. This is exactly what that Seneca did who declared that his ambition was, "not to be equal to the best, but only to be better than the bad." He gained large knowledge, he wrote and spoke much that was philosophical and moral, he pointed out many of the perils of a misuse of wealth, he was better than the bad, better than the Nero who would kick his mother, kill his wife, make merry over his own indecencies, and gloat in the crucifixion of martyrs. Seneca was better than the man who never made effort to cultivate his mind, was better than the man who spent his days in orgies, yes, was far better than the man who was blind to the beauty of gems, of poetry, and of architecture. But all the same he made an inferior use of his life. His library, his furniture, his precious stones, his worldly wisdom, were very great. Let him be tutor even to an emperor, an emperor that was a "Cæsar"! And still, better than the bad, he made a lamentable misuse of life when he let luxury enervate his righteous principles, let the pleasures of the table rob him of his integrity, and let his own hand, in an hour of humiliation, end the life which was not his to end. Seneca was the man who let an inferior standard decide his purposes, and thus vitiated his powers. Any standard lower than the highest produces poor material. Second-rate standards make second-rate goods and second-rate men. Second-rate men are brought to hours of emergency calling for first-rate principles. In such hours second-rate men go down. A man satisfied to live for anything less than the best of which he is capable may stand well for a considerable time, but before his days are over he will be found to be an unsuccessful workman, a disappointing teacher, a weak financier, an inaccurate student, an untrustworthy friend.

But while we may make a bad or inferior use of life, we also may make the best use of it. To do this should be our ambition. It should be the underlying, all-pervading purpose that quietly but regnantly dominates our being. The best use of our life will never be secured apart from such ambition. It will not come of itself. We do not drift into a best use. The best use is a matter of toil and perseverance, of thoughtfulness and devotion. It cost Joseph hours of consideration, days of application, and years of adaptation to make the best use of his life. He found himself in new positions constantly. The boy naturally had looked forward to being a shepherd. To that end he studied the lie of pasturage lands. When his father sent him to his brethren he knew the way to Shechem and Dothan, and he found his brethren.

But with his forced departure into Egypt, probably into the city of Memphis, all his surroundings are new and untried. The shepherd boy is given the duties of a household servant, exchanging the freedom of the field for the confinement of the palace. But he takes up his new duties, magnifying them as an opportunity of development, and he makes the best use of them. Later, he who has known only a tent and a palace is in a prison, and is charged with the work of a prison guard. Right well he does that work, studying it, giving himself to it, and making a success of it by his heartiness and fidelity. Later still, he who has only tended sheep and ordered a household and enforced discipline is