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ON BEING ONE’S SELF “How happy is he born or taught, That serveth not another’s will; Whose armor is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill.” —Sir Henry Wotton. It has been said that “Imitation is the sincerest flattery.” It is also the surest means to soul sui cide. To each man God has given a distinctive individ uality. Locked up within it are latent potentiali ties for all but infinite growth and usefulness. This individuality is given us for cultivation and devel opment up to the limit of its possibilities. To play the traitor to it by neglect is a high crime. It is a disaster—it is a tragedy. I have somewhat that no other has, has ever had, will ever have. I am a trustee of a high estate. It is mine to im prove. And well may I understand that there is a destined mission for it when improved. There are in every man latent talents and possibilities which are new, which he alone possesses, and whose powers none but he can ever know, nor he until he has tried them. There is a best possible self for each one of us—and the great business of life is to struggle onward and upward toward that bet ter self. We are to erect an individual ideal. We are to turn away from what we immediately and presently are, and lift up our eyes to behold afar off what it is possible for us to be or do. I am not to be another, and I am not to be less than my full stature. I am to become my best possible self. Education in its truest sense is merely better prep aration for this self-realization. It is not an end, but a process, and, from the cradle to the grave, this advancement toward a better self should go on. Self-Development. This struggle upward everyone owes as a high duty to himself. Egotism is bad, but egotism is good. I owe it to myself, my fellows and my God to strive manfully for self-mastery and self-reali zation in order to self-manifestation in service. Sel fishness is pernicious, but self-fullness is greatly to be desired. The spur of a right ambition is a great and laudable thing. Nothing already ours should bring us a false contentment. We must ever be shouting “Excelsior!” The goal of each yesterday must be the starting point of to-day. A man sat isfied with self is a man ready for the grave. We must not rest on any past achievement. Progress is living movement—and we must go forward or die. There is, then, for each of us a best possible self, and we owe our ideal a sacred duty. As the indi vidual develops himself along his divinely appoint ed lines, he grows in power and stature. He becomes more and more. His vision enlarges, his soul ex pands, his mind unfolds, his capacities for enjoyment and achievement mature, and he becomes greater even than his dream. It is not for me, therefore, to be some other man. lam here to become my best possible self. To sur render the high purpose to attain my ideal means shipwreck to my soul. The thought of Emerson on the use of books is applicable here. Said he: “I had better never see a book than to be warped by its attraction clear out of my own orbit and made a satellite instead of a system.” A Fault of Preachers. There is too much of imitation to-day. There are too many satellites, too few systems. This imita tion we find particularly among speakers—and more particularly among preachers. No sooner does a Sam Jones arise, than we have a crop of would be Sams ad infinitum and ad nauseam. Perhaps one of the most excruciating experiences which a sensitive soul has to undergo is to hear some imi tation Sam Jones slinging around his “Bud” and “Sis” and “Flop-eared hound,” as nearly like the original as possible. By JOHN ROACH STRATON D.D., Pastor Second Baptist Church, Chicago, 111. The Golden Age for August 23, 1906. To every great preacher there is this crop of imi tators. The pupils of Spurgeon are said to have aped his very gait. It is a current tradition of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary that his servile imitators. Even the peculiar droop of many who studied under the great Broadus became the dear doctor’s shoulders was carefully copied by the youth who imagined himself a second Broadus. He was not content to be a Smith or Jones, and to make that name a classic by his growth into great ness. No, he must abrogate his own birth-right— God save the mark—and, regardless of the nerves of his fellows, become a Broadus! No doubt this is the “sincerest flattery,” but it also means stag nation and death to the better possibilities of the one who copies. An Illustration From Texas. While living in Texas, I saw a striking illustra tion. There is in that state a most brilliant, earnest and powerful young preacher. He seems to carry with him the very spirit of God. His life of conse cration and devotion has given him marvelous pow er, and God is honoring his efforts in a great way. But, unfortunately, the usual allotment of imita tors is springing up. A short time ago I had the privilege of attending a series of revival services conducted by a visiting brother. This brother was himself a man of splendid promise and power. So long as he was himself, it was a joy and inspira tion to hear him. But he had become almost a satellite. He was not content to wait until he could develop into a system of his own. He was an imi tator of the much beloved brother above referred to. He represented the most peculiar combination that I have ever seen of a native style, nipped in the bud, and the manners and methods of another grafted in upon it. He was a sort of oratorical Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. In parts of his sermon he would be himself, and there was power; but presently, especially during the exhortations and invitations, he would fall into the style of the other brother. The very gestures, the incisive way of making a proposition, the pressing of soul searching questions, the peculiarly powerful empha sizing of sertain words and phrases by repetition of them with longer quantity on the vowels, the manly toss of the head, even the characteristic pronunciation of certain of the vowel sounds—ev ery mannerism, natural and powerful in the original brother—was here imitated, until, at times, one al most imagined that the other man was there before one’s eyes. These peculiarities, through which the Holy Spirit moved with persuasive power in the original, were here a veritable mockery, because they were hollow and unreal. They came from with out and not from within. It was apparent that the speaker was not expressing himself in his own way. He was trying to give out himself through the modes of expression characteristic of another, and the net result vibrated between the humorous and pa thetic in a most tantalizing manner. A man can be himself and make a fairly good out of it. He can not be another man and succeed with the job! After one of the these meetings, the inquiry was made of a keen-witted little woman, how she liked the preacher. Her reply was that she “liked the him part very well, but she did not like the George Truitt variations at all.” A Student Imitator. A short time after that I attended a student’s prayer meeting. Here, once more, another young brother was an embryo Truett. The same gestures, the same style, even down to the finest shade of the tone color in “e’s” and “r’s” were imitated and dovetailed in with the natural manners of the young brother, until, in the light of the former ex perience, it was positively laughable. His imita tion was not altogether conscious, perhaps, yet the young man had been so swept off his feet by the power of the other soul that he had begun to sur- render his individuality, to leave the pathway of his own personality and to ramble off along the way marked by God for the other. Evil Effects of Imitation. The evil effects of such imitation cannot be over estimated. Thus, consciously or unconsciously, to copy another is subversive- of our best selves, our development and our power. It is true that hero worship has its place, but it is liable to sad abuse. The inspiration which we may gather by contact with a great personality is good, and will mean much to us if it works itself out through the tissue of our sturdy individuality, but we had better never have a hero than to become his ape. To rest content with being the weak shadow of another man is in deed a lowly ambition. To see another who is great should fire our ambition to be great ourselves. Not great by imitation—by trying to squeeze ourselves into the other’s mold—but great by the culture and development of our own talents and powers until they shall shine above our fellows, and command their plaudits and esteem. To imitate another is fatal to ourselves. It means a lowering of the standards of self-respect by the tacit acknowledgement of our inferiority. It means an abdication of the throne of our own reason. It means the surrender of individual aspiration and growth. It means the death of self-reliance and independence, with its many attendant ills. It means the slow growth of a most insiduous form of dis honesty. It means, above all, the creeping paraly sis of insincerity. And for any preacher of the Gospel thus to steal the thunder of another is in deed a sad and terrible thing. A Slow Growth. Imitation tends to fasten its slimy coils upon our souls unconsciously. Few men will thus deliberately commit this sin. Slowly, insidiously, the habit creeps upon one, and, with high resolution and firm endeavor, we must shake it off. Better a littXe that is true, pure and original, than much that is second-hand, imitative and stale. “Insist on your self; never imitate. Your own gift you can present every moment with the cumulative force of a whole life’s cultivation; but of the adopted talent of an other you have only an extemporaneous, half-pos session.” There ringing words of Emerson’s are true. We must think our own thoughts. We must set up our own ideals. We must erect our own standards. We must wield our own swords and fight our own bat tles. Though natural growth may he slow, it is sure and healthy. Any hot-house plan produces a weakling. A pure heart, a simple faith, a reso lute will, the patience to wait, the power to endure, aspirations that are high and ambiions that are noble—these are the mighty roots which bear fruit in honor, power, usefulness and success. The birth of a new profession for women is al ways welcomed and regarded with interest. Per haps the very newest one on record is that of writ ing speeches for men, and it is said that it is also one of the most lucrative ones. Several young wo men in northern cities have adopted this as a reg ular business, being careful never to supply two pa trons with the same speech. Naturally, research on technical or political points is necessary for this work, and a certain versatility of style and ex pression is a prerequisite. The profession has one advantage—there is but slight danger of its being overcrowded. It is not generally known that Count Tolstoi works several hours each day as a cobbler. He makes shoes fairly well but it is said that a great manufacturer of shoes after watching Tolstoi work declared he could never work fast enough to have a journeyman’s bench in a modern factory. 9