Acres of Diamonds

Herman Conwell Russell

Description

Are you stuck in limbo, waiting for the perfect opportunity to descend from the heavens and transform your life? If so, you're taking the wrong approach, according to Russell Herman Conwell. In Acres of Diamonds: Our Everyday Opportunities, Conwell advises readers to train their eyes on the valuable opportunities that are already all around. A must-read for those seeking a paradigm-shattering push in a new direction.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2009
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775413394
• Langue: English

Extrait

ACRES OF DIAMONDS
OUR EVERY-DAY OPPORTUNITIES
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RUSSELL HERMAN CONWELL
 
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Acres of Diamonds Our Every-day Opportunities From a 1915 edition.
ISBN 978-1-775413-39-4
© 2008 THE FLOATING PRESS.
While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.
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Contents
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An Appreciation Acres of Diamonds His Life and Achievements - A Biography by Robert Shackleton I - The Story of the Sword II - The Beginning at Old Lexington III - Story of the Fifty-Seven Cents IV - His Power as Orator and Preacher V - Gift for Inspiring Others VI - Millions of Hearers VII - How a University was Founded VIII - His Splendid Efficiency IX - The Story of Acres of Diamonds Fifty Years on the Lecture Platform Endnotes
An Appreciation
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THOUGH Russell H. Conwell's Acres of Diamondshave been spread all over the United States,time and care have made them more valuable,and now that they have been reset in black andwhite by their discoverer, they are to be laid in thehands of a multitude for their enrichment.
In the same case with these gems there is afascinating story of the Master Jeweler's life-workwhich splendidly illustrates the ultimate unit ofpower by showing what one man can do in oneday and what one life is worth to the world.
As his neighbor and intimate friend inPhiladelphia for thirty years, I am free to say thatRussell H. Conwell's tall, manly figure standsout in the state of Pennsylvania as its first citizenand "The Big Brother" of its seven millions ofpeople.
From the beginning of his career he has been acredible witness in the Court of Public Works tothe truth of the strong language of the NewTestament Parable where it says, "If ye havefaith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall say untothis mountain, 'Remove hence to yonder place,'AND IT SHALL REMOVE AND NOTHING SHALL BEIMPOSSIBLE UNTO YOU."
As a student, schoolmaster, lawyer, preacher,organizer, thinker and writer, lecturer, educator,diplomat, and leader of men, he has made hismark on his city and state and the times in whichhe has lived. A man dies, but his good work lives.
His ideas, ideals, and enthusiasms have inspiredtens of thousands of lives. A book full of theenergetics of a master workman is just what everyyoung man cares for.
1915.
Acres of Diamonds
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Friends .—This lecture has been delivered under thesecircumstances: I visit a town or city, and try to arrive thereearlyenough to see the postmaster, the barber, the keeper of thehotel,the principal of the schools, and the ministers of some of thechurches, and then go into some of the factories and stores, andtalk with the people, and get into sympathy with the localconditions of that town or city and see what has been theirhistory,what opportunities they had, and what they had failed to do—and every town fails to do something—and then go to the lectureand talk to those people about the subjects which applied totheir locality. "Acres of Diamonds"—the idea—hascontinuouslybeen precisely the same. The idea is that in this countryof ours every man has the opportunity to make more of himselfthan he does in his own environment, with his own skill, withhis own energy, and with his own friends. RUSSELL H. CONWELL.
[1]
WHEN going down the Tigris and Euphratesrivers many years ago with a party ofEnglish travelers I found myself under the directionof an old Arab guide whom we hired up atBagdad, and I have often thought how that guideresembled our barbers in certain mentalcharacteristics. He thought that it was not only hisduty to guide us down those rivers, and do what hewas paid for doing, but also to entertain us withstories curious and weird, ancient and modern,strange and familiar. Many of them I have forgotten,and I am glad I have, but there is one Ishall never forget.
The old guide was leading my camel by itshalter along the banks of those ancient rivers, andhe told me story after story until I grew wearyof his story-telling and ceased to listen. I havenever been irritated with that guide when helost his temper as I ceased listening. But Iremember that he took off his Turkish cap andswung it in a circle to get my attention. I couldsee it through the corner of my eye, but I determinednot to look straight at him for fear he wouldtell another story. But although I am not awoman, I did finally look, and as soon as I did hewent right into another story.
Said he, "I will tell you a story now which Ireserve for my particular friends." When heemphasized the words "particular friends," Ilistened, and I have ever been glad I did. I reallyfeel devoutly thankful, that there are 1,674 youngmen who have been carried through college bythis lecture who are also glad that I did listen.The old guide told me that there once lived notfar from the River Indus an ancient Persian bythe name of Ali Hafed. He said that Ali Hafedowned a very large farm, that he had orchards,grain-fields, and gardens; that he had money atinterest, and was a wealthy and contented man.He was contented because he was wealthy, andwealthy because he was contented. One daythere visited that old Persian farmer one of theseancient Buddhist priests, one of the wise men ofthe East. He sat down by the fire and told theold farmer how this world of ours was made.He said that this world was once a mere bank offog, and that the Almighty thrust His finger intothis bank of fog, and began slowly to move Hisfinger around, increasing the speed until at lastHe whirled this bank of fog into a solid ball offire. Then it went rolling through the universe,burning its way through other banks of fog, andcondensed the moisture without, until it fell infloods of rain upon its hot surface, and cooledthe outward crust. Then the internal fires burstingoutward through the crust threw up the mountainsand hills, the valleys, the plains and prairiesof this wonderful world of ours. If this internalmolten mass came bursting out and cooled veryquickly it became granite; less quickly copper,less quickly silver, less quickly gold, and, aftergold, diamonds were made.
Said the old priest, "A diamond is a congealeddrop of sunlight." Now that is literally scientificallytrue, that a diamond is an actual depositof carbon from the sun. The old priest told AliHafed that if he had one diamond the size ofhis thumb he could purchase the county, and ifhe had a mine of diamonds he could place hischildren upon thrones through the influence oftheir great wealth.
Ali Hafed heard all about diamonds, how muchthey were worth, and went to his bed that nighta poor man. He had not lost anything, but hewas poor because he was discontented, anddiscontented because he feared he was poor. Hesaid, "I want a mine of diamonds," and he layawake all night.
Early in the morning he sought out the priest.I know by experience that a priest is very crosswhen awakened early in the morning, and whenhe shook that old priest out of his dreams, AliHafed said to him:
"Will you tell me where I can find diamonds?"
"Diamonds! What do you want with diamonds?""Why, I wish to be immensely rich.""Well, then, go along and find them. That isall you have to do; go and find them, and thenyou have them." "But I don't know where togo." "Well, if you will find a river that runsthrough white sands, between high mountains,in those white sands you will always finddiamonds." "I don't believe there is any suchriver." "Oh yes, there are plenty of them. Allyou have to do is to go and find them, and thenyou have them." Said Ali Hafed, "I will go."
So he sold his farm, collected his money, lefthis family in charge of a neighbor, and away hewent in search of diamonds. He began his search,very properly to my mind, at the Mountains ofthe Moon. Afterward he came around into Palestine,then wandered on into Europe, and at lastwhen his money was all spent and he was inrags, wretchedness, and poverty, he stood on theshore of that bay at Barcelona, in Spain, whena great tidal wave came rolling in between thepillars of Hercules, and the poor, afflicted,suffering, dying man could not resist the awfultemptation to cast himself into that incoming tide, andhe sank beneath its foaming crest, never to risein this life again.
When that old guide had told me that awfullysad story he stopped the camel I was riding onand went back to fix the baggage that was comingoff another camel, and I had an opportunity tomuse over his story while he was gone. I remembersaying to myself, "Why did he reserve thatstory for his 'particular friends'?" There seemedto be no beginning, no middle, no end, nothingto it. That was the first story I had ever heardtold in my life, and would be the first one I everread, in which the hero was killed in the firstchapter. I had but one chapter of that story,and the hero was dead.
When the guide came back and took up thehalter of my camel, he went right ahead with thestory, into the second chapter, just as thoughthere had been no break. The man who purchasedAli Hafed's farm one day led his camelinto the garden to drink, and as that camel putits nose into the shallow water of that gardenbrook, Ali Hafed's successor noticed a curiousflash of light from the white sands of the stream.He pulled out a black stone having an eye of lightreflecting all the hues of the rainbow. He tookthe pebble into the house and put it on the mantelwhich covers the central fires, and forgot all aboutit.
A few days later this same old priest came into visit Ali Hafed's successor, and the momenthe opened that drawing-room door he saw thatflash of light on the mantel, and he rushed upto it,