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PROPHESIED.

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      “There will be a great change in this country before many years. Free schools have so educated the people that they will not submit to this injustice forever, even though it is organized against them.”

      “But how will this change be effected?”

      “Through the splitting up of political parties—but it is sure to come.”

      “Recognizing the conditions that the young man of to-day has to contend with, what guide-posts would you point out to him?”

      “In the first place, I would advise every young man to be honest and outspoken at all times. What people want is open, frank talk. There is too much catering and palavering and round-about talking nowadays. It is a great mistake. Then, of course, in order to accomplish anything, the young man must have plenty of energy and perseverance.”

      By inheritance, Governor Pingree was a patriot and fighter. In his possession were three historic muskets, one of which was used by his great-grandfather in the Revolutionary War; another by his grandfather in the War of 1812, and one by himself in the Civil War. His first American forefather was Moses Pingree, who emigrated to this country in 1640. Many of his descendants have figured with distinction in American history, among them being Samuel Everett Pingree, Governor of Vermont from 1884 to 1886.

      Governor Pingree was a strikingly interesting example of self-earned success. His indomitable will, tireless energy and unyielding perseverance were the machinery with which he manufactured the fabric of his career. But the pattern was stamped by his own individuality, and was like no other ever seen—it was sui generis.

      On the battlefield of public life, Governor Pingree was a general who said, “Come on!” not “Go on!” He acted with the bold, unfettered authority that springs from an honest belief in the justice of his opinions, and never put his plans out of focus by shifting his ground. When once resolved, he was as immovable as a fixed star. He was absolutely fearless because he was absolutely honest, and was not afraid to fight, single-handed, the greatest financial power the world has ever known.

      The political spider was never able to bind his arms with the thread of party combination—scheme or intrigue. He was at all times a free lance, fearless and ceaseless in his efforts to chip the veneer from gilded fraud, to pierce the heart of injustice and to befriend those not able to shield themselves. He was a champion of the people and a believer in them.

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      “But they call you a demagogue. How does that accusation affect you?”

      The Governor smiled, as if he considered it a good joke.

      “Well, that amuses me,” said he. “They don’t do that around here any more. They’ve worn it out, I guess. No, it doesn’t disturb me a particle. I always go on the principle that lies never hurt anybody.”

      Governor Pingree was a man of powerful physique and dignity of bearing. But he was delightfully oblivious to his own importance, and was entirely devoid of ostentation in everything that he did or said. His disposition was buoyant, his manner that of frank simplicity, and he was prodigal in his generosity and sympathy for those in need. In his private business, the welfare of his employees was always balanced in the scale with his own.

      In the camps of war he was known as “Father Pingree,” and when the boys returned to Detroit he was the first to greet them. But no one ever saw him in an open carriage behind the band; he was always away off in a corner of the station, where the ambulances were waiting, giving a word of encouragement to this poor fellow and patting that one on the back. He worked for forty hours at a time, without a thought of sleep, to keep up a cheerful welcome, though many a time he was seen to turn away just long enough to brush the tears from his eyes.

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      The home life of Governor Pingree was as beautiful as his life in public was successful. His residence, a three-story gray stone house, was a model of quiet elegance and refinement, and there his greatest happiness was found.

      The accusation was often made that the people of Michigan did not appreciate the Governor. However, during his last election, he was not a prophet without honor in his own country, for the long-continued climbing up of his majority caused one of the local newspapers to suggest that the State set aside special holidays to satisfy the appetite for voting for Pingree.

       Determined not to Remain Poor, a Farmer Boy Becomes a Merchant Prince

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      MARSHALL FIELD, one of the greatest merchants of the United States, and that means of the world, is not readily accessible to interviewers. He probably feels, like most men of real prominence, that his place in the history of his time is established, and he is not seeking for the fame that is certain to attend his name and his business achievements. No more significant story, none more full of stimulus, of encouragement, of brain-inspiring and pulse-thrilling potency has been told in any romance. It is grand in its very simplicity, in its very lack of assumption of special gifts or extraordinary foresight. The Phœnix-like revival from the ashes of ruined Chicago is spoken of by Mr. Field as an incident in the natural and to be expected in the order of events. In Marshall Field it was no doubt natural and to be expected, and it touches the very keynote of the character of the celebrated western merchant, sprung from rugged eastern soil, whose career is an example to be studied with profit by every farmer boy, by every office boy, by every clerk and artisan—yes, and by every middle-aged business man, whether going along smoothly or confronted by apparently ruinous circumstances, throughout our broad land.

      I was introduced to Mr. Field in the private office of Mr. Harry G. Selfridge, his most trusted lieutenant, and this first of interviews with the head of Chicago’s greatest mercantile house followed.

      “My object,” I said to Mr. Field, “is to obtain your opinion as to what makes for and constitutes success in life.”

      “That can be quickly given,” said Mr. Field; “what would you like to know?”

      “I wish to know something of your early life, and under what conditions you began it.”

      “I was born in Conway, Massachusetts, in 1835. My father’s farm was among the rocks and hills of that section, and not very fertile.”

      “And the conditions were?”

      “Hard.”

      “You mean that you were poor?”

      “Yes, as all people were in those days, more or less. My father was a farmer. I was brought up under farming conditions, such as they were at that time.”

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      “Did the character and condition of your parents tend in any way to form your ambition for commercial distinction?”

      “Yes, somewhat. My father was a man who, I consider, had good judgment. He made a success out of the farming business. My mother was more intellectually bent, if anything, and, naturally, both my parents were anxious that their boys should amount to something

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