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perceive is that the student who earns his way through appreciates his opportunity. He realizes that fortune smiles upon those who roll up their sleeves, put their shoulder to the wheel, and have backbone and stamina to fight the battle, and not turn aside for a little dirt or hard physical labor. The student who strikes the word “luck” from his vocabulary waits for no psychological moment, loiters not for a miracle to occur, but rather creates the miracle, makes his own opportunities.

In our college, here in the Middle West, the manner of earning one’s way varies a great deal. We are blessed with a rich country and the greater per cent. of the people are prosperous. The majority of students canvass during the summer vacation. I was formerly employed as a clerk in a hardware store before coming to college. Next summer, however, I will take up some form of canvassing. Canvassing has two distinct features that should appeal to the student; first, the opportunity to study human nature, and secondly, the fact that the harder you work the more you earn. Next school year I will have a position whereby I can earn my board and room, and with my summer earnings I shall be able to return for another year’s work.

My first reason for working my way through college was because of financial necessity. Now if I 224 were to choose between the two avenues of securing a college education I would cast my lot with the boy who works his way. His conceptions of life are broader, and he is better fitted for the battles of life he will meet when he leaves college. Thus, in many ways I consider the necessity of working one’s way through college not a detriment, but a blessing in disguise, which gives one a greater knowledge and a broader conception of what a life worth while really means The same problem confronted me that confronts the great majority. .

Simpson College, Indianola, Iowa.
POVERTY IS NOT HIS MASTER
BYRON E. JOHNSON

It has been my misfortune, or fortune, to be reared practically in the arms of poverty. I have spent the most of my days on a little farm in southwest Arkansas, the family consisting of six children and father and mother, living in an old log house on the farm. Just at the time when we were getting to where we could make a crop without buying everything on time, we lost about all we had on account of the ill health of my mother.

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