I have talked with boys who have said "Latin has me licked", and they were ready to throw over the possibilities of a college course and a chosen profession because of the Latin in the Matriculation Examination. Give any boy one hour with these "Stories of Grit", and I guarantee that it will stiffen his backbone and give him a punch so effective that he will be able to "lick his weight in wildcats". TAYLOR STATTEN. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. The Blind Boy who Became Poet, Preacher and Author II. How a Lame Boy Became the World's Greatest Potter III. The Dutch Boy who Became a Great Editor IV. A Deaf Boy who Became a Great Bible Scholar V. The Slave Boy who Became a Great Leader VI. The Immigrant Lad who Became a King of Industry VII. A Shoemaker's Apprentice who Became a Great Scholar VIII. From Gipsy Tent to Pulpit IX. A Blind Man who Became Postmaster-General of England X. The Ploughboy who Became a Famous Naturalist XI. A Sick Man who Never Gave Up XII. How a Poor Boy Became a Great Scientist XIII. What an Illiterate Boy Made of His Life XIV. A Donkey Boy who Became a Famous Sculptor STORIES OF GRIT CHAPTER I. THE BLIND BOY WHO BECAME POET, PREACHER AND AUTHOR. George Matheson was born in Glasgow, Scotland, on March 27th, 1842. When he was only eighteen months old his mother made the melancholy discovery that his eyesight was defective. He had inflammation at the back of the eyes. Several specialists were consulted, but little hope was held out to the boy's parents. The failure of his eyesight was gradual. For several years he could see fairly well. During the greater part of his school-life he could read and write by using powerful eye-glasses and large type. He was permitted to sit near the window so that he might get the full benefit of the sunlight. In spite of the serious difficulties which faced him during those years, George Matheson took high standing in his class. He managed to learn French, German, Latin and Greek, and in some subjects he led his class. He was ever hoping that his eyesight would improve. It was the custom of his family to spend most of their summer holidays at one of the seaside resorts on the Firth of Clyde, and George took great delight in watching the steamboats as they plied up and down the river. It was there that he spent many anxious hours testing his eyesight. He would stand on the pier and watch the boats in the distance. He would try to make out how many funnels each had, and as they drew nearer, what their names were. At times he thought that his eyes were improving; but at last he had to admit to himself that they were gradually getting worse.