A missive like the foregoing is decidedly interesting to me, and the spirit moves me to say certain things to my correspondent, which I do, in manner and form following, to wit:
A LETTER TO A BOY
My Dear Young Friend: I do not know you personally, have never grasped your hand and looked into your eyes, but your letter makes me think well of you.
In the first place, it discloses the fact that after all your careful preparation for the debate, you made an extemporaneous speech. Good. No one can be a debater on any other terms. It is possible that one may be an orator and be unable to leave the written form, but the gift of extemporaneous expression is absolutely essential to a debater.
To think on one’s legs—that’s a gift; and it seems that you have it.
Again, I learn from your letter that you knew you had on your hands a hard task in maintaining the unpopular side of the debate, and that you did not shrink from the burden. Good again. That’s the way to become a man. The boy who is ever on the lookout for the easy job, the popular side, and who runs away from obstacles or opposition, will always remain a boy—and not much of a boy at that.
There is but one rule for you if you want to be a man—absolutely but one—and that is to do your level best to reach a clear, correct idea of what is right, and then stick to it and fight for it, in spite of the “world, the flesh and the devil.”
This rule will make you enemies, and will give you just about as many hard knocks as are needful to your health, but if you want to be a man, that’s the price you’ve got to pay.