welfare of his race.

Men's interest in each other as individuals manifests itself in a
thousand ways--in the portraits which they paint, in the busts
which they carve, in the narratives which they relate of each
other. "Man," says Emerson, "can paint, or make, or think,
nothing but Man." Most of all is this interest shown in the
fascination which personal history possesses for him. "Man s
sociality of nature," says Carlyle, "evinces itself, in spite of
all that can be said, with abundance of evidence, by this one
fact, were there no other: the unspeakable delight he takes
in Biography."

Great, indeed, is the human interest felt in biography! What are
all the novels that find such multitudes of readers, but so many
fictitious biographies? What are the dramas that people crowd to
see, but so much acted biography? Strange that the highest genius
should be employed on the fictitious biography, and so much
commonplace ability on the real!

Yet the authentic picture of any human being's life and experience
ought to possess an interest greatly beyond that which is
fictitious, inasmuch as it has the charm of reality. Every person
may learn something from the recorded life of another; and even
comparatively trivial deeds and sayings may be invested with
interest, as being the outcome of the lives of such beings
as we ourselves are.

The records of the lives of good men are especially useful. They
influence our hearts, inspire us with hope, and set before us