{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56306/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56306","id":"gutenberg_56306","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56306","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Conduct of life"],"text":"LIVING THE RADIANT LIFE\n\n\n\n\nLATEST BOOKS BY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES\n\n\n    CALIFORNIA, ROMANTIC AND BEAUTIFUL. Handsomely bound, gilt top, with\n    8 full page illustrations in colors and 64 in duogravure. In silk\n    cloth, $3.50, postpaid $3.75; in half morocco $7.00, postpaid $7.50.\n\n    INDIAN BLANKETS AND THEIR MAKERS. With 32 pictures in color of rare\n    and unique blankets, and more than 200 other illustrations.\n    Handsomely bound in cloth, boxed $5.00, express paid $5.50.\n\n    THE LAKE OF THE SKY, LAKE TAHOE. Handsomely illustrated. $2.00 net,\n    postpaid $2.25.\n\n    OUR AMERICAN WONDERLANDS (See America First). Illustrated, $2.00\n    net, $2.25 postpaid.\n\n    QUIT YOUR WORRYING. $1.00 net, $1.10 postpaid.\n\n    LIVING THE RADIANT LIFE. 300 pages; $1.00 net, $1.10 postpaid.\n\n\nTO BE PUBLISHED IN 1916 OR LATER\n\n    THE PREHISTORIC CLIFF DWELLINGS OF THE SOUTHWEST. Fully illustrated,\n    and with maps and diagrams. Price, possibly, about $4.00 net.\n\n    ARIZONA, THE WONDERLAND OF THE SOUTHWEST. With 12 full-page\n    illustrations in color, and 48 duogravures; $3.50, cloth, net; $3.75\n    postpaid; half Morocco, $7.00 net; $7.50 postpaid.\n\n    RECLAIMING THE ARID WEST. The story of the work of the U. S.\n    Reclamation Service. Fully illustrated, $2.00 net, $2.25 postpaid.\n\n    CALIFORNIA LITERATURE. A Text Book for High Schools and Colleges,\n    with copious illustrative quotations.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor further list of books see end of the book. Any of these books will\nbe autographed by the Author, on request, if the order be sent direct to\nhim, 1098 W. Raymond Avenue, Pasadena, California.\n\n\n\n\nLIVING THE RADIANT LIFE\n\n\nA PERSONAL NARRATIVE\n\n\nBY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES\n\nAuthor of \"Quit from Worrying,\" \"What the White Race May Learn From the\nIndian,\" \"The Story of Scroggles,\" \"The Heroes of California,\" \"The\nGrand Canyon of Arizona,\" \"Lake Tahoe,\" \"The Wonders of the Colorado\nDesert,\" etc., etc.\n\n\n     PASADENA, CALIF.\n  THE RADIANT LIFE PRESS\n          1916\n\n\n\n\n      Copyright, 1916\n  BY EDITH E. FARNSWORTH\n\n\n     J. F. TAPLEY CO.\n         NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nTO ONE\n\n\nwho, in all the years I have known her, never once has failed to radiate\nthat which is sweet, pure, helpful, unselfish, humane, sincere,\nbeautiful and true, with thankfulness for the blessedness of my\nassociation with her\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n\n  FOREWORD                                                            ix\n\n  CHAPTER\n\n  I RADIANCIES OF NATURE                                               1\n\n  II THE RADIANT AURA                                                  6\n\n  III A FEW WORDS IN PASSING                                          14\n\n  IV VARIED RADIANCIES                                                22\n\n  V RADIANCIES OF INDIVIDUALITY                                       38\n\n  VI CONFLICTING RADIANCIES                                           50\n\n  VII RADIANCIES OF FEAR                                              56\n\n  VIII THE RADIANCY OF REBUKE                                         78\n\n  IX WHAT I WOULD RADIATE TO THE WRONG DOER                           81\n\n  X THE RADIANCIES OF TOLERATION                                      89\n\n  XI OUT OF DOOR RADIANCIES                                           96\n\n  XII RADIANCIES OF JOY, INSPIRATION, AND SERENITY                   115\n\n  XIII RADIANCIES OF THE WILL                                        126\n\n  XIV RADIANCIES OF CHEERFULNESS                                     147\n\n  XV RADIANCIES OF MORAL COURAGE                                     166\n\n  XVI RADIANCIES OF CONTENT AND DISCONTENT                           186\n\n  XVII RADIANCIES OF SINCERITY                                       217\n\n  XVIII RADIANCIES OF SERVICE                                        221\n\n  XIX RADIANCIES OF HUMOR                                            232\n\n  XX RADIANCIES OF THE \"ETERNAL NOW\"                                 241\n\n  XXI RADIANCIES OF EXTREMES                                         247\n\n  XXII ABSORPTION IN RELATION TO RADIATION                           255\n\n  XXIII RADIANCIES OF DEATH                                          286\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\n\nFrom the standpoint of religion the lives of \"good\" men and women may be\ndivided into two great classes, viz., those who do no active wrong,\nwhose conduct is based upon the \"thou shalt nots\" of the Bible, the law,\nand society, and those whose every thought is to do some active good.\n\nI am far more interested in the latter than the former class. I am not\ncontent simply to forego doing wrong. I want to _do_, to _be_. Hence\nwhen the idea of _Living a Radiant Life_ took hold of me, it sank deep,\nand is now part of my inner self. It was natural, therefore, that I\nshould seek to formulate my thoughts as to what I desired to radiate.\nThis seeking soon taught me that I already was a radiant being; every\nthought, every act, every word written or spoken was a radiant act,\nhaving its influence for good or evil upon my fellows, and that,\ntherefore, I must decide speedily what I wanted to avoid radiating, and\nthat which I would radiate.\n\nThe following pages are some of the results of my earnest cogitations,\ndeliberations, reflections, and decisions. Consequently they partake\nstrongly of personal preachments applied to myself. They may be regarded\nas a record of personal aspirations and longings, of spiritual hopes, of\nliving prayers, and desires. And they are purposely written in the\npersonal form in the sincere hope that they will help others to put into\nsimilar form their own half-formed thoughts, desires, and aspirations.\n\nThis book is not offered as a complete manual of life. It is merely a\nsuggestion to others of the larger, wider, better, nobler thing they may\ndo for themselves. It is my desire to arouse thought, to stimulate\nardent longings for something beyond the gratification of the senses, to\nlead my readers to strive more earnestly for unselfish living, and to\nencourage them in their endeavors to find, realize, and live those\nspiritual truths which redeem human beings from their mortal inheritance\nof imperfection.\n\nThe main test of any system of religion or code of life is: Does it\nwork? If it is not practical; applicable to all the events of daily\nlife; enabling one to cope with problems as they arise; making one more\nhelpful to mankind, less selfish, less censorious, less vain, less\nproud, less obstinate, less cruel, less thoughtless, less despondent;\nand, on the other hand, exciting and stimulating one to be more humane,\nmore tender and compassionate with sinning humanity, more humble and\nready to learn, more amenable to the suggestions of the wise and good,\nmore kind, more considerate, more generous, more noble, more aspiring,\nthen, indeed, has it proven itself to be a broken reed, instead of a\ntried staff upon which one may lean.\n\nNo longer to me is religion a question of \"Thou shalt not.\" The \"don'ts\"\nof life are of far less importance than the \"dos.\" He whose life is\noccupied with doing good has little time or thought for doing harm.\nChrist's method of living was positive and active, rather than negative\nand passive. He _went about, doing good_. He said: \"_Do_ unto others as\nye would have them do unto you.\" He taught love in action: Love your\nenemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and\npray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.\n\nHence I earnestly hope that every one of the following pages will\ncontain some helpful thought for all who are seeking the more perfect\nlife; and also for those who are sitting in the darkness of\ndiscouragement, under the depressing temptation to regard life as a\n\"failure.\" There is no man living, no matter how low in body, mind, or\nsoul, but can be helped into happiness; no woman so utterly lost to all\ngood who may not live to feel the sprouting of angel wings because of\nthe birth within her soul of helpful, unselfish love.\n\nGoethe's cry was for \"more light,\" and as life comes with light in the\nmaterial world, so light and life are inseparably connected in the\nmental and spiritual world. There is no real darkness in life. There may\nbe a temporary withdrawal of solar light, but we know that as surely as\nall the days of the past have dawned, so the sun will shine again\nto-morrow. And through all the seeming mists of doubt, fear, and pain\nthe true spiritual light forever shines to give immortal life. Let us\ntake Life then as God's gift, and as we progress daily to a more perfect\nexpression of freedom from all that would wrongfully enthrall us, let us\nseek diligently to \"let our light shine\" upon those around who seem to\nlive in the shadows.\n\nI would come, in these pages, as the glorious sun, bringing warmth,\nhealing, and purification. I would come as the stimulating breeze that\nvivifies and refreshes--the breeze that has its birth on the vast\nPacific where all impurities are scrubbed out of it in a thousand miles\nof storms, then floats gently over the orange and lemon groves, the rose\ngardens and violet beds, the sweet scented blossoms of ten thousand\ntimes ten thousand shrubs of California; then, laden with sweet odors\nand charged with the bromine and ozone of the ocean, climbs over the\nsteep Sierran heights and becomes cool and filtered through the vast\npine and juniper forests, and adds the balsams of health and strength,\ndistilled from a million trees and shrubs, ere it falls to the desert\nand is there rendered aseptic and antiseptic. Like such a health-laden\nbreeze would I come to weary men and women, tired and exhausted with the\nbattle of life, sick of its complexities and frivolities, longing for\nspiritual as well as physical health, and seeking the happiness that\ncomes alone when we live for the happiness of others.\n\nMy desire is to send forth a message that will bless body, mind, and\nsoul, just as a triple song, whose melodies blend in perfect harmony,\ncarries healing, strength, and inspiration. For he indeed is thrice\nblessed who knows the joy of life in its threefold manifestation, who\nhas a body that is vigorous and healthy, a mind alert and active, quick\nto observe and reflect, to discern and classify, and a soul whose\nemotions and aspirations are ever to help, encourage, comfort, and\npurify humanity.\n\nThe conditions for such a life are in the \"Everywhere\" waiting to be\nborn into the \"Here,\" and God's time is _now_.\n\nMany of these chapters originally appeared in the pages of _Physical\nCulture Magazine_, and to my good friends, its editor and founder,\nBernarr Macfadden, and the present editor, John Brennan, I tender my\ncordial thanks for the privilege of reprinting which they have\ngenerously accorded.\n\n[Illustration: George Wharton James]\n\nPasadena, Calif.\n\n\n\n\nPRAYER\n\n\nOH, ALMIGHTY GOD, Thou radiant source of all power, life and love, Thou\nfree giver of sun and earth, clouds and wind, flowers and trees, fruits\nand birds, bees and butterflies, work and play, tenderness and\nunselfishness, sympathy and love, so fill us with Thyself that we shall\nbecome radiant beings like Thyself. Make us innocent as little children,\nsimple as the young animals of the hills and fields, beautiful in soul\nas are the flowers, heaven-aspiring as are the trees, soothing as are\nthe gentle breezes of night, warming as is the sun, fluid to meet all\nneeds as water, restful as night, eager for work as the dawn, joyous in\nall life as the birds, and thankful for labor as the busy bees. Give us\nthe needy to bless, the loveless to love, the sinful to stimulate and\nencourage to goodness, purity, and truth, the orphan to father, the\ndegraded to uplift, and at the same time the wise to be our teachers and\nthe serene to lead us into peace. Be Thou our Constant Vision, longing\nand aspiration--nay, be Thou our never-failing companion, counselor and\nfriend. So shall we become radiant, true children of Thine, possessed of\nThy likeness and radiating the glory and beauty of Thyself.\n\n                                                                --Amen.\n\n\n\n\nLIVING THE RADIANT LIFE\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE RADIANCIES OF NATURE\n\n\nEverything in Nature is radiant. Use the term in its broad sense and\nthere is nothing to which it does not apply. The sun radiates light and\nheat, and without it life would be impossible. The moon radiates light,\nbut practically no heat. Its light is reflected and of an entirely\ndifferent character from that of the sun, so that no one ever mistakes\nthe one for the other. The stars have a light all their own which they,\nthough so many millions of miles away from us, radiate in varying\nintensities. And many of these stars are so individualistic in their\nradiancies that each one, though perfect, is different from each other\none, and may readily be detected by its own peculiarities. Every flower\nthat grows, from the night-blooming cereus on the desert to the most\nperfect amaryllis developed by Burbank, radiates its own colors, odors,\nand general appearance. One familiar with them may close his eyes and\ndetect in a moment, by the odor of each--the violet, rose, lily, cosmos,\nverbena, and a thousand others, and there are those whose olfactory\nnerves are highly sensitive who can discern, by smell alone, the\nvarieties of each flower.\n\nEvery species of tree radiates its own qualities, so that, to the\nstudent, they become growingly wonderful in what they give out. A\ndistinguished botanist whom I know is so familiar with the radiancies of\nthe various pines of the Pacific Slope that he can sketch and perfectly\ndescribe the complete tree as soon as he sees the cone, or, blindfolded,\nsmells its odor.\n\nEvery rock has its own radiancies of color, texture, weight, and\ndensity. One of John Ruskin's most useful and beautiful books is his\n_Ethics of the Dust_, and those who have not read it should do so to\nunderstand how many things a wise and good man has felt radiated from\nthe rocks.\n\nShakspere felt the potency of this truth or he would never have written\nthat he saw \"tongues in trees; books in the running brooks; sermons in\nstones, and good in everything.\"\n\nEvery landscape radiates its own personality. Some are quietly pastoral,\nas the valleys in Connecticut. The prairies of Illinois, Iowa, and\nNebraska are wide and impressive; the wastes of the Colorado Desert are\nvast and appalling; the varied colorings of the Painted Desert are\nweird and startling. The orange, lemon, and other orchards of Southern\nCalifornia delight the senses, the forests of the north and the High\nSierras stir the soul by their expansiveness, and the groves of Big\nTrees overpower by their height and size. The ocean is restless and\nresistless; the stars pitiless at times, soothing at others. Each scene,\nwhether pastoral, picturesque, wild, rugged, grand, or weird, has its\npeculiar radiancies, and some scenes possess many qualities, all of\nwhich are felt or perceived by the sensitive onlooker. For instance, as\none stands on the rim of the Grand Canyon he feels the radiancies of\noverwhelming vastness, profound depth, far-reaching length, expansive\nwidth, vivid and extraordinary coloring, bizarre and strange carvings,\nand, in the lower depths of the Inner Gorge, where flows the solemn and\nsullen Colorado, a strangeness and mystery found nowhere else in the\nknown world.\n\nIn his _Kreutzer Sonata_, Tolstoi contends that certain music radiates\ndamning influences, and though I do not agree with him (perhaps because\nI have never felt or seen such evil), his attitude of mind serves as a\nfurther illustration of my proposition. We all are aware of certain\nradiancies of certain kinds of music, even though unaccompanied with\nwords. The _Dead March in Saul_; the _Threnody_ in Bach's Passion Music;\nthe _Death of the King_ in Grieg's _Peer Gynt_, and Chopin's _Funeral\nMarch_, all radiate the solemnity and sadness of death, while Sousa's\nvarious marches, Chopin's _March Militaire_, and a hundred other similar\ncompositions radiate the arousement either of active life or passionate\nwar. The _Glorias_ of Mozart and Pergolesi, and Handel's _Hallelujah\nChorus_ speak--even though the words are unheard--of the joy of the\nworld at the Savior's birth, and the _Requiems_ of Verdi, Bach, and\nGounod of the sadness of soul felt at His cruel death.\n\nEvery picture radiates the spirit of its artist at the period of\ncreation, and every piece of music the influences that overpower the\nsoul of the composer; and even every piece of furniture radiates to some\nextent the spirit of the age in which it was created, or the animating\nspirit of its creator.\n\nIt should not be overlooked that, although these radiant properties are\npossessed for all persons alike, they are not discerned by all alike.\nAll people are not equally receptive, equally sensitive, equally\napperceptive. Human beings are like soil--some is stony ground and the\nseed takes no root, other is thorny, and the seeds, springing up, are\nchoked, other still is good ground and bears fruit, some thirty, some\nsixty, some an hundred fold. In other words the state of our own\nresponsiveness determines the effect upon us of the radiancy of the\nobjects with which we come in contact.\n\nThe quartz picked up from a ledge may be full of valuable mineral, but\nto the ignorant it is \"a piece of rock and nothing more.\"\n\nThe ordinary traveler on the desert sees a large black beetle. Knowing\nnothing of beetles, it is to him \"only a bug.\" But the scientific\nentomologist, seeing the same beetle, is carried away with delight, for\nhe recognizes the rare _Dinapate Wrightii_, one of the least seen and\nmost rare of American beetles.\n\nMost travelers seeing the cactuses of the desert note but a few\nvarieties, but the trained observer revels in hundreds of differences in\n_mammillaria_, _opuntias_, _echinocactuses_, and _agave_.\n\nSome see no beauty in them, some delight in their many and diverse\ncharms; to some their thorns are hideous and repulsive, to others both\ninteresting and beautiful in their arrangement and design.\n\nAccording to our receptivity do these objects of Nature affect us--some\nin one way, some another. The more sensitive our minds and souls are to\nwhat they perceive, the more we receive, absorb, gain, and, therefore,\nthe more we in turn radiate to others, but we must remember that the\ncharacter and quality of that which we receive will be reflected,\ntherefore it is necessary to be constantly in that attitude of mind\nwhich is receptive to good only.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE RADIANT AURA\n\n\nSwedenborg, who was one of the most eminent of scientists and engineers,\nas well as the founder of the religious system that bears his name,\nasserted that various \"aura\" surrounded all living beings, and that the\nmental or spiritual state radiates, just as light and heat radiate from\nthe sun, and cold from the snow. When one was angry, he said, he gave\nout the aura of anger which enveloped him as a cloud. Hatred had its\naura, as well as love, sympathy, purity, impurity, kindliness, charity,\njealousy, courage, justice, and the like.\n\nHe also asserted that, to those who were simple, natural, and unspoiled\nby false reasoning--those who were spiritually inclined--these varied\naura were clearly perceptible, and were as certainly felt or seen as\nwere heat, cold, whiteness, blackness by the senses.\n\nRudyard Kipling bases his story, \"They,\" which appeared some years ago\nin _Scribner's Magazine_, upon this statement of Swedenborg's, and in\nthis light it becomes an extra fascinating story to read.\n\nA great modern French scientist has made many exhaustive studies of\nthese aura, and claims to have photographed them.\n\nIn the Panama-Pacific Exposition, one of the exhibits contained a series\nof interesting pictures, or diagrams, which purported to be exact\nrepresentations of the various aura of people under different mental\nconditions. In an article on this subject, written by a well-known\nauthority, we are told that:\n\n    It is not around the human body alone that an aura is to be seen; a\n    similar cloud of light surrounds or emanates from animals, trees,\n    and even minerals, though in all these cases it is less extended and\n    less complex than that of man.\n\nThe occultists assert that the aura is extremely complex in its\ncharacter, in other words, that there are several aura superposed one\nupon the other. The first appearance is of a luminous cloud, extending\nsome eighteen inches or two feet from the body, assuming a somewhat oval\nshape. Careful study, however, reveals that this first appearance is\nresolvable into several component parts, or separate aura, of different\ndegrees of tenuity, and, apparently, superposed. Five of these have been\ndefined. The first, or most material, is that pertaining to the physical\nbody. In a state of health this is composed of separate, orderly, and\nnearly parallel lines, which radiate from the body in every direction.\n\nWhen one suffers from disease the lines in the neighborhood of the part\naffected become erratic, and radiate less actively but in the wildest\nconfusion, or, if the whole body be affected, all the lines are\nconsequently erratic.\n\nFor a long time it was not known what kept these lines straight and\napproximately parallel in the case of the healthy person, until a second\nradiating aura was discovered. This comes from a healthy body in\npulsating waves, with such vigor as to compel the rigidity of the health\nlines. These waves may be compared to the pulsations of the heated air\nwhich rise from the ground on a very hot day. Baron Reichenbach made\nexperiments with certain sensitives who declared they could see these\nradiations, and he called them \"the magnetic flame.\"\n\nWhen these \"waves\" come from a sickly or weakly body they not only lose\npower, but seem to give a confused direction to the health lines.\n\nMany observations also have led to the conclusion that when the lines\nare kept straight by the force of the pulsating waves from a healthy and\nvigorous body, \"it seems to be almost entirely protected from the attack\nof evil physical influences, such as germs of disease--such germs being\nrepelled and carried away by the outrush of the life-force: but when\nfrom any cause--through weakness, through wound or injury, through\nover-fatigue, through extreme depression of spirits, or through the\nexcesses of an irregular life--an unusually large amount of vitality is\nrequired to repair damage or waste, within the body, and there is\nconsequently a serious diminution in the quantity radiated, this system\nof defense becomes dangerously weak, and it is comparatively easy for\nthe deadly germs to effect an entrance.\"\n\nThe third aura is that which expresses one's desires--a kind of mirror\nin which every feeling, every desire, every thought almost, of the\npersonality is reflected. This changes constantly, in some people,\naccordingly as they are swayed by their impulses. Its colors,\nbrilliancy, rate of pulsations, alter from moment to moment, or minute\nto minute. \"An outburst of anger will charge the whole aura with\ndeep-red flashes on a black ground; a sudden fright in a moment will\nchange everything to a mass of ghastly livid gray.\"\n\nConnected with this, and yet, seemingly, of a separate character, are\nthe radiations of the aura that express the progress of the personality\ninto higher and better appreciation of the things of mind and spirit.\nThe more intellectual and spiritual one becomes the more steady and\nbeautiful are the colors and radiations of this aura, and the variations\nand distressing manifestations of the evil desires of the third aura\nbecome less apparent and distinct.\n\nThe fifth aura is the highest at present discernible. It manifests the\nspiritual development of the individual and is of almost inconceivable\ndelicacy and beauty. It seems to be a cloud of living light--the word\ncloud being used for want of a better term.\n\nIn the concrete examples of aura that were presented at the Exposition,\nthat which radiated from a wise mother showing her protective love for\nher infant, was in the form of outspread wings of a beautiful rosy tint,\nthe wings held together at the articulations by a sheaf-like mass of\ngolden yellow.\n\nSelfish ambition, sudden fear, explosive anger, selfishness, grasping\nanimal affection, greed, jealousy, jealousy mixed with anger, gloom,\nmurderous hatred, were all displayed in peculiar, hideous, and repulsive\nforms and colors.\n\nPure, radiating affection, on the other hand, was represented in the\nform and color of a round body exhaling rays as from a rosy sun. Strange\nto say, though I had never read anything explicit upon this subject\nbefore, I had always conceived of pure affection as giving forth\nradiations of this exact appearance.\n\nWhether this \"occult\" explanation of the radiation of aura be a true one\nor not, it serves to give one a beautiful conception, viz., that every\nsoul may strive so to live within that he sheds upon his fellows\nglorious rays of light, serenity, warmth, comfort, blessing, joy,\nhappiness that help them to the attainment of like felicities.\n\nIn the earlier part of this chapter Swedenborg's assertion will be\nrecalled that those who were unspoiled, real children of Nature, could\nactually perceive these aura, and that their acts were guided or\ninfluenced by them just as ours are by the perceptions of our five\nsenses.\n\nWhen I began to visit the Hopi Indians in Northern Arizona, who\ncelebrate that wonderfully thrilling religious ceremony known as the\nSnake Dance, I found that their lives conformed exactly to this aura\nassumption. They handle deadly rattlesnakes with fearlessness, putting\nsmall ones into their mouths so that nothing but their heads protrude,\nand larger ones, up to five feet in length, in their teeth, head on one\nside of the mouth, the writhing, wriggling body on the other. Young\nboys, from three to six and ten years of age--neophytes of the Antelope\nClan, which, with the Snake Clan, has charge of this ceremonial prayer\nfor rain--hold these snakes during a part of the ceremony with an\nindifferent carelessness that is appalling to most onlookers. On the\nother hand those who are alive to the dangers attending the handling of\nsnakes assert positively that the reptiles must have their fangs\nremoved, as otherwise they would bite, and either cause death or\ndangerous sicknesses.\n\nYet both classes of observers are in error. The snakes are not handled\ncarelessly, nor are their fangs removed. Apparent carelessness is often\nthe result of years of training, the ease and readiness that come with\nmuch experience. Fearlessness is another result of experience and\nknowledge. But, once in a while, a member of the Snake Clan is afraid,\nand at such times he is not allowed to dance. In this exclusion is a\nstrong suggestion that the Hopis fully believe that not only do the aura\nof our mental and spiritual states surround us, but that even to the\nlower animals they are as perceptible as light, heat, and cold. It may\nbe true that the truly occult, or clairvoyant, by pure and simple\nliving, return to the clarity of spiritual perception of the child and\nthe lower animals, and they likewise see and understand. In the case of\nthe snakes, the Hopis believe that if a dancer is afraid it makes the\nsnake afraid. In other words, the reptile sees or discerns the \"fear\naura,\" and, at once, its own fear is awakened. When afraid it assumes\nthe defensive, for that is its only mode of protection. It coils ready\nto strike, and rattles in warning: Beware!\n\nOn the other hand, when the dancer is unafraid and handles the reptile\nin the true Hopi spirit, viz., as his _Elder Brother_--for, according\nto Hopi mythology, the Snake Clan originates with the Snake Mother, and\ntherefore all members of it are younger brothers to all snakes--the aura\nof friendliness and brotherly kindliness surrounds him, which, being\nperceived by the snake, it is at once soothed and allows itself to be\nhandled with restfulness and assurance of safety. And in the thirteen\ntimes that I have witnessed the Snake Dance (and several times been\nprivileged to see and take part in the secret ceremonials of the\nunderground chambers where the snakes are handled and washed), only\ntwice have I known any one to be bitten.[A]\n\n[A] For a full and complete description of the Snake Dance see the\nwritings of Dr. J. W. Fewkes in the Reports of the U. S. Bureau of\nEthnology and my own _Indians of the Painted Desert Region_, published\nby Little, Brown & Co., Boston, Mass.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nA FEW WORDS IN PASSING\n\n\nPerhaps the majority of human beings do not really _live_: they merely\n_exist_ for a time in the flesh and for the flesh. And as all are\nconstantly reminded that such existence is temporary and fleeting it is\na very common belief that only in youth can one \"have a good time.\" Old\nage is dreaded because we have been taught to expect a greater or lesser\ndegree of decrepitude, pain, and physical disability when we shall pass\nthe so-called \"Bible-limit\" of three-score years and ten, and,\ntherefore, we anticipate losing our powers of enjoyment. Fathers and\nmothers encourage their children to \"make the most of their youth,\" and\nto \"get all out of life they can while they have the opportunity,\" thus\nfostering and cultivating a high state of nervous tension in young\npeople that is demoralizing in every way.\n\nI believe this attitude is wrong, and yet I believe fully in \"having a\ngood time.\" I believe God intended that all living beings should be\nhappy, and that it is possible to order our lives--our habits, actions,\nthoughts, desires, and ambitions--so that every conscious hour of every\nday will be full of real joy. I believe in the buoyancy, the happiness,\nthe radiancy, the perfection of life. Browning expresses my thought in\n_Rabbi Ben Ezra_, and in _Saul_. In the latter he says:\n\n    Oh, our manhood's prime vigor! No spirit feels waste,\n    Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced,\n    Oh, the wild joys of living!...\n    How good is man's life, the mere living, how fit to employ\n    All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!\n\nAnd in _Rabbi Ben Ezra_ he says:\n\n    Grow old along with me!\n    The best [of life] is yet to be.\n\nAnd why should not old age be the best part of life? Does experience\ncount for nothing? Can we not learn as the years roll along? Do we grow\nmore foolish as we grow old? If so it might be advisable to let the\nfacetious suggestion of the celebrated Dr. Osier be carried out in order\nthat all men might be chloroformed at the age of fifty. If, however,\nhistory and experience teach us that the intellectual faculties and\nreasoning powers of a man in normal health do not decrease with age, let\nus protest vigorously against the false and injurious statement that\nyouth is the best part of life, and let us advocate that we should all\npossess greater mental and spiritual ability at ninety than at thirty,\nwith physical powers of endurance ample for every need.\n\nIt is recorded in the Bible that many of the ancients lived to be\nseveral hundred years old, and some of them were vigorously active at\ngreat age. We are told that Cornaro lived many years more than a\ncentury, and I have personally known Indians of great physical power and\nkeen mentality who were over one hundred years old. Doubtless all are\nfamiliar with instances of great mental and physical ability at an\nadvanced age, and this is an encouragement for us to believe that health\nand happiness and usefulness are not confined to the early decades of\nhuman life. My words, therefore, are not addressed merely to the young,\nbut to those of all ages, for it is never too late to gain more of that\nmental health which strengthens body, mind, and soul--the real life\nwhich is manifested in love, joy, and all goodness, and constantly\nradiates life-giving qualities. Radiancy is a condition of all life, as\nI use the term in these pages. No person can rightly live and retain\nwithin himself that which he possesses in abundance. We must give out in\norder to live. Christ never spake a truer word than when He declared:\n\"He that loveth his life shall lose it.\" Those who are so careful to\nkeep all of their lives for themselves, who never give of themselves to\nothers, who know nothing of the joy of self-sacrifice, of service, of\nhelpfulness--these people defeat the very object of their selfishness by\nlosing that which they are so determined to retain. On the other hand,\n\"he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.\"\nOr, as Joaquin Miller exquisitely and forcefully puts it in his\nunequaled couplet:\n\n    For all you can hold in your dead, cold hand,\n      Is what you have given away.\n\nSo, then, radiation of the good of ourselves becomes an essential\ncondition in itself of real life. This law of radiation is apparent\neverywhere in life. For, consciously or unconsciously, willingly or\nunwillingly, each man and woman radiates what is within. The moment you\ncome into the presence of some men you feel their uprightness, their\nintegrity, their truth. Other men impress you in a moment as untruthful,\ndishonorable, and unreliable. Some radiate confidence, so that the weak\nand uncertain rely upon them; others the hesitancy and fear of\nincertitude. Others are radiant centers of conceit and overweening\nself-esteem, which is an entirely different radiancy from that of\nself-confidence and true self-reliance combined with good sense and\nmodesty. Some people radiate gluttony, others drunkenness, others\nimpurity, others dishonesty. You have not been in the presence of some\npersons five minutes before you feel that they radiate \"Every man has\nhis price.\" It is a great temptation when I come into the presence of\nsuch people to ask, \"What is your price?\" and then myself to give the\nanswer: \"Thirty cents, and it is twenty-nine cents too dear.\"\n\nDuring a recent little outing trip I could not help witnessing the\nvarying radiancies of a friend and the thirty students that he invited\nto accompany us. One young man was full of physical energy, good nature,\nand helpfulness. With keen eye he was prompt to notice any failure to\nkeep up in the less strong of the girls, and, with jollity and jest, but\nwith real consideration and helpfulness, he aided the weaklings whenever\nand wherever possible. One of the girls radiated an abundance of joyous\nhealthfulness that made it a pleasure to watch her. Another was a\nthoughtless go-ahead young miss, who led a large part of the group a\nmile or two out of the way. Two of the girls were fault-finders, three\nwere radiators of efficient initiative when time came for preparing\nlunch, and half a dozen were \"ready to help,\" but had no idea how to go\nto work until directed by some one else. One was able to determine\nsomewhat the real character of the persons by that which they radiated.\nOf course, that is not always a sure guide, for one may pretend, or\naffect the possession of qualities that are not inherent. Yet if we\nlived the true life and never dulled the keenness of our sense\nperceptions, we should be like the animals and able to rely absolutely\nupon what we felt of the radiancies of others. Who has not seen the keen\nreadiness of a horse to \"sense\" the mental condition of the man who was\ndriving him? Suppose two men sit in the buggy. One holds the lines, but\nis unused to driving and especially nervous in a city. He radiates\nnervousness and fear, uncertainty and hesitancy. The horse feels these\nradiancies and himself is nervous, fretful, fearful, hesitant, and\nuncertain. Seeing this, his friend takes the lines. Almost instantly,\nthough the horse has \"blinders\" on and cannot possibly know by any\nordinary sense perception that a change has taken place in his driver,\nhe calms and quiets down, and goes ahead without further fear,\nhesitancy, or nervousness.\n\nWith dogs, every one knows that to be afraid of a barking, yelping,\naggressive cur is to invite him to bite you. But if you advance upon him\nboldly and without any fear he will retreat in snarling dismay, and if\nyou make a bold dash at him he turns tail like the veriest coward and\nruns. In my many visits to Indian villages and camps I have tested this\nagain and again. I have had a dozen dogs run out as if they would tear\nme to pieces. Had I turned and run there is no doubt that, unless their\nowners had interfered, I should have been bitten. But, knowing the\nnature of the ill-bred curs of the Indians, I advanced boldly upon\nthem, kicking to left and right, if the animals were more than usually\npersistent, and invariably following into his own place of refuge the\nanimal that seemed to be the leader, and there giving him one or two\nsharp blows or decisive kicks. The result was always the same. So long\nas I stayed in that camp I was never bothered again. They readily and\nquickly understood the radiancy of boldness and that of kindness when\nthey ceased their fierce aggressiveness, and never pestered me again.\n\nThis same radiant power of others is often recognized by lawless men and\nby criminals. A fearless woman can go into places of great danger with\nabsolute safety, and a fearless and honest officer can arrest the most\ndesperate and dangerous men far more easily than can a dozen fearful and\ndishonest ones.\n\nThus it will be apparent that:\n\nEvery person, animal, and thing, consciously or unconsciously, willingly\nor unwillingly, radiates good or evil.\n\nAs human beings we radiate that which we possess, or that which\npossesses us, and we influence those with whom we come in contact by our\nradiancies.\n\nThe questions, then, that every true-hearted man and woman must, and\nwill, ask are: \"Am I radiating good or evil? If evil, why? If good, am\nI radiating as much as I might and should?\"\n\nFor myself I want every man and woman I meet or shake hands with, to\nfeel that I am physically strong, healthy, and vigorous; that I have\nvigor and health of mind; that I think for myself, rather than accept\nthe opinions of others, and that in character, in spirit, in soul, I am\nhealthy, vigorous, sincere, pure, true; that my emotions, my\naspirations, my ambitions are noble and upward. I want to radiate\nspiritual health. Do you?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nVARIED RADIANCIES\n\n\nMan is a part of Nature, but he is more than that which we mean by the\nwords, \"mere Nature.\" He is Nature plus. There is given to him more than\nis possessed by sun or flower. He has within him that spirit which\nrenders him nearer the divine than sun or flower. Mind and _soul_ make\nhim a superior being. Hence it is the divine plan that he should radiate\nin his enlarged sphere as the sun and flower do in theirs.\n\nUnfortunately, while we are in the body, our imperfect and evil\nqualities are radiated as well as our good. This is our misfortune, and\nshould be our distress. For certainly every true man and woman would\ndesire to radiate only truth, purity, sincerity, courage, good judgment,\nself-control, stamina, or perseverance in good endeavor, energy, love of\nknowledge, mental capacity, justice, tact, ability, executive power,\nregard for the rights of others, kindliness, individuality,\nself-reliance, readiness to avail one's self of the wisdom of others,\nself-dependence, attractiveness of person, companionable qualities, good\nmanners, good taste in dress, attractiveness of mind and soul (this as\ndifferentiated from mere attractiveness of person), cheerfulness,\noptimism, and altruism, readiness to see and have faith in the good of\nothers, and good humor.[B]\n\n[B] This list, with slight variations, is taken from the _Cosmopolitan_,\nVol. XXXVIII, No. 2.\n\nWho could ever resist the radiating influences of a Mark Tapley, such as\nDickens so vividly pictures? Such radiancies penetrate so deeply that\nnothing can obliterate them. The greater the cause for wretchedness and\nmisery, the greater the opportunity to \"come out strong\" and show that\nhis spirit of cheerfulness was greater than any untoward circumstance.\nHappy is that man or woman who gives out such radiancies, and blessed\nare those who come in contact with them.\n\nCertain men and women radiate gloom and the abnormal recognition of\ntheir physical ills. You greet them with a cheery \"Good morning\" and\nthey respond with an explicitly detailed wail of their ailments. Their\nrheumatism is \"so bad,\" and their liver is out of order. Their backache\nis worse, and their headache is \"simply frightful.\"\n\nBrooding over their pains and aches has magnified them so that they\novershadow all things else in the universe. An earthquake and fire that\ndestroy a great city are of less importance to them than the recital of\ntheir own woes.\n\nHow different the cheery radiancies of the happy man--like Dickens's\nCheeryble Brothers--who gives out breezy healthfulness on every hand.\nThe clasp of the hand radiates physical vigor that in itself is a tonic\nto the body; their bright and cheerful words brace up the mind; and\ntheir God-like optimism and altruism lift up the soul so that--above the\nmists and fogs of mortal error--we see God and enjoy His smile.\n\nSome persons radiate selfishness. I was riding in the train the other\nday. A woman had two whole seats, that is, her suit case took up one and\nshe sat on the other. The car was filled with people; every other seat\noccupied. At the next station eight or ten people came aboard, and all\nfound places by the side of some one else, except one woman. Walking\ndown to where the whole seat was occupied by the suit case she asked the\nowner if she might have the seat. \"I suppose if there's no other you can\nhave it!\" she replied in a surly and gruff tone. God save us from\nradiating selfishness like this!\n\nIt is an almost daily occurrence to see a tired man or woman get upon a\nstreet car and no one makes a move to give a seat, when that is all it\nneeds--just a little sitting nearer. This may be thoughtlessness, but\nall the same it is selfishness; a forgetfulness of the sweet privilege\nof helping others, no matter who.\n\nThe wife of Sir Bartle Frere once sent a servant to meet her husband,\nwho was just returning from Africa, an illness preventing her from\ngoing. The man did not know Sir Bartle, and he asked for a description.\n\"The only description you will need,\" said his wife, \"is this: Look out\nfor a fine-looking man who is helping some poor woman carry a baby, or a\nbasket, or a load.\" And, sure enough, when the train arrived he found\nthe distinguished diplomat, the great statesman, helping a poor laundry\nwoman carry her large basket of soiled linen. Ah, Sir Bartle, I greet\nyou a nobleman indeed, for you have radiated unselfishness, thoughtful\nhelpfulness, to me, and through me, to others, and thus out and on\nforever.\n\nSome persons radiate cynical distrust of their fellows. \"There are no\nhonest men!\" \"I wouldn't believe in the integrity of that man under\noath.\" \"Believe every man dishonest until he has proven himself honest,\nand even then, watch out. He'll be liable to catch you if you nap.\" \"Do\nothers as they would do you, but do it first,\" said David Harum. \"A\nprofession of religion is but a cloak for evil.\" \"If your bank cashier\nis a Sunday-school Superintendent, watch him!\" \"Look out for the man who\nhas no open vices.\"\n\nThese are the catchwords of this class of persons. How pernicious and\nevil are their radiancies.\n\nCommend the fearless bravery of a Roosevelt, the unpopular decisions of\nan upright judge, the single-heartedness of a labor leader, the\nintegrity of a railroad official, and you are met with the sneer of the\nlip, the cynical glance of the eye and the scornful words: \"He's only\nwaiting for his price.\"\n\nFar rather would I meet the converse of this cynic in the optimist who\nbelieves that every man is as good as he professes to be. For such an\nabounding faith in mankind, freely radiated, has the effect of calling\nforth faithfulness, and thus creating what it expects.\n\nI know a woman who, though abundant in good works and very kindly in\nsome ways, who seeks opportunities for helping the helpless and\ndistressed, yet, when others fail to measure up to her own standard, is\nharsh, censorious, bitter, and fault-finding to a degree that many find\nit impossible to listen to her without distress. Thus her kindly deeds\nare overlooked and ignored and she radiates to a large degree\ndiscomfort, unrest, and irritation.\n\nAt our house we were once privileged to know a woman, recently widowed,\nwho had a crippled and almost helpless son of about a dozen years of\nage. When her husband was alive she was the president of the leading\nwoman's club in her State and also the president of the State Federation\nof Women's Clubs--a woman of executive ability and strong mentality,\nthough shy and unassuming.\n\nHer husband was a well-known Governmental specialist in plants, trees,\netc., and she had aided him, in some of his investigations, to such a\ndegree that she was almost as expert as he. Unfortunately she was\nafflicted with deafness. When her husband died she was left with only a\nfew hundred dollars. Her deafness prevented her taking any of the\npositions her mental qualifications so eminently fitted her to fill. Her\ncrippled son must be cared for. Bravely and fearlessly, yet cautiously\nand studiously, she determined to make the living for herself and son.\nShe bought a small ranch, planted it out in vegetables and small fruit,\nand, as the crops matured, personally drove to town and marketed them.\nYet with all this arduous work and care she found time and strength to\nread to her boy (whose eyesight was poor), to help him in his studies\nand sympathize with him in his boyish endeavors to accomplish something\nas an electrician. There was no complaining, no weeping at her hard\nfate--simply a brave recognition of her position and a cheerful facing\nof the responsibilities thrust upon her. The sorrow and pain she felt\nkeenly, yet one saw no sign of suffering. One day she came to our home\nand would have said nothing of her difficulties had we not pressed her\nto tell us about her affairs. She made no claim for sympathy because of\nthe way Fate had tried her, but when we offered it, in our simple and\nunpretentious fashion, she accepted it in as simple and unaffected a\nway. Her uncomplaining courage, her fearless grappling with the hard\nproblems of life, radiated inspiration to all who came in close enough\ncontact to know her. We were all benefited and blessed by her presence\nand the helpful radiancies she shed upon us.\n\nHere is another case. We are honored and blessed with the friendship of\nthe widow of an Episcopal clergyman. For over twenty-five years she and\nher husband lived in marital oneness, and seven boys and girls crowned\ntheir happiness. She awoke one morning to find him dead by her side. The\nshock was crushing and few would have blamed her had she been\nincapacitated for a while by its sudden awfulness. But in an instant she\nleaped to meet her burdens and responsibilities. Religion was real to\nher. Her husband was with God. He was safe. It was her duty now to be\nboth father and mother to her children. A struggle then began which is\nas pathetic as it is heroic. I have watched every battle and known the\ncourage, the patience, the fidelity, the failures, the successes. A\nhouse, partially built with funds contributed by friends, was eventually\nlost to the mortgagees. The oldest daughter, after years of brave and\ncheerful struggle with poverty and ill-health, passed away. A few years\nlater, within a week of each other, two of the noble sons, one about\ntwenty-seven years of age, the other nineteen, the former the most\nChrist-like youth I have ever known, also died. Then the third daughter,\nhappily married, died after giving birth to her third child, and, in a\nshort time, owing to some strange perversion which it is hard to\nunderstand, the son-in-law took it into his head to refuse the\ngrandmother the privilege of seeing the children. The one remaining son,\nwho had studied with honors at the California State University, went\nEast to complete his special studies at Yale, suddenly collapsed\nmentally, and was cared for for a long time in an Eastern hospital.\n\nThink of the tragedies and sorrows thus crowded into one life in the\nshort space of twenty years! Yet during the whole of this time, though I\nhave been as close to the family as though I were an uncle or older\nbrother; though all their affairs have been regularly and fully unfolded\nto me, there have been absolutely no wailings, no repinings, no\ncomplaints, and only the few tears that it is a relief to let flow when\nloving hearts sympathize. Instead, this brave woman, her heart fortified\nby an abiding faith in and love for God, has been \"abundant in good\nworks.\" She is the \"right hand support of her clergyman,\" and every poor\nand needy person in the parish has experienced her practical interest,\nhelp, and loving sympathy. Though unable personally to contribute of\nmaterial things, she has interested those who could, and has thus made\nher sympathy practical and genuine. Her home for many years was the\nrallying ground for homeless young men--mainly, of course, belonging to\nher own church--who have been immeasurably blessed by her motherly\nsympathy, loving counsel, and helpful advice.\n\nThere radiates from her and her family a living belief in the goodness\nof God, an assurance that \"all things work together for good to them\nthat love God,\" and that faith in God produces a living courage, and\ndaily strength, a power to overcome affliction that is nigh to the\nmarvelous. To some it might appear almost like indifference; yet those\nwho know, as I do, can testify to the keenness of the inner feeling, the\nlonging for the companion whose dear presence was so awfully and\nsuddenly removed, the heart-crushing losses of children, the terrible\nburden of the mental disturbance of the brilliant-minded and\nnoble-hearted son. To be brave, cheerful, helpful to others, and strong\nto do under such burdens is to prove one's self possessed of the power\nof the living God. It is the radiation of the truths of religion more\npotent than all the arguments of all the theologians of all the ages.\n\nStill another case comes to mind while I write. It is of a woman who\nbraved disinheritance by a stern father in order that she might marry\nthe man she loved. She came to the United States with him, and on a\nvineyard in California they struggled happily together, with a poverty\nthat was almost sordid in its piteousness. After two children were born\nthe husband died, leaving the wife with these little ones, together with\nanother child whom she had practically adopted, and a mortgage at heavy\nrates of interest upon the home place. The house in which they had lived\nfor several years was poor and altogether devoid of comfort, but shortly\nbefore the husband's death it had been made comfortable by the addition\nof several good rooms.\n\nWithout a word of complaint this delicately nurtured, refined woman,\nwho, in her English home, had been the organist and director of the\nchoir of a large church, took up the burden of running a California\nfruit farm. Heavily in debt, interest imperatively demanded every three\nmonths, knowing little of the practical working of such a place, she\npersonally took hold and learned. She milked cows night and morning,\ntook them back and forth to pasture, bred calves for the butcher, made\nbutter, raised chickens, drove weary miles summer and winter giving\nmusic lessons, and yet kept home more comfortable for her growing brood\nthan does many a woman well provided with funds and help. In time the\nmortgage was paid off, and a windmill and water tank added to the\nequipment of the place. The children helped as they grew up, and yet\nthey were kept at school.\n\nWhen apricots and peaches were ripe I have seen her for days and weeks\nat a time cutting and pitting them for drying, until a half score or\nmore of tons were lying in their drying trays on the alfalfa. For hours\nat a time, in the hot sun, she sorted raisins and stacked them up in the\nsweat-boxes, and did it happily, cheerfully, uncomplainingly, in memory\nof the husband she so much loved.\n\nCan one come in contact with such a life without feeling its blessed\nradiancies of courage, energy, triumph over unpleasant circumstances,\ncheerful doing of disagreeable work, and the power of love to sweeten\nall things? To know this woman is to be helped, strengthened, and\nblessed. The bravery of such heroines far surpasses that of much lauded\nmilitary and naval heroes, and a few such women are worth more to the\nrace, in my judgment, than all the Napoleons, Pompeys, C\u00e6sars, and\nNelsons that ever lived.\n\nCertain men impress you with their calm self-reliance. They are not\ndisturbed by precedents or adverse judgments. They do what they deem to\nbe right and refuse to be swerved from the path they have laid out for\nthemselves. Ruskin radiates this influence, so do Carlyle and Browning.\nEvery man who has dared to make innovations, deviate from the \"ways of\nthe old,\" has had to be self-reliant. Every reformer of every age and in\nevery field has had no other staff to lean upon than the assurance of\nhis own soul. Galileo in his astronomical deductions; Savonarola in his\ncriticisms of the existing political conditions; Luther in his\nfulminations against the evils of the church; Cromwell in his stand\nagainst the doctrine of the \"divine right of kings\"; Jefferson,\nWashington, and the whole of our fathers, who, according to English\n_law_, were rebels and revolutionists, in the Declaration of\nIndependence; Lincoln in his war measures and Emancipation\nProclamation--all these and a thousand others radiated such\nself-reliance upon the principles they enunciated and advocated as to\nconvince their followers.\n\nEvery political party based upon real principles (rather than upon a\ndesire for spoils), is organized as the result of the radiation of those\nprinciples held in the self-reliant hearts of a few men. Every school of\nthought, in philosophy, theology, medicine, law, ethics, or political\neconomy, is based upon the radiation of ideas from self-reliant men.\n\nYet there is a marked difference between this quality and that of\nself-conceit. When Carlyle said of the grammarian who criticised his\ngrammar, \"Why, mon, I'd have ye ken that I mak' language for such men as\nye to mak' their grammar books from,\" he stated a fact. He was\nself-reliant, but not conceited. So with Ruskin, when, in response to my\nquestion as to what literature I should read to cultivate a pure style\nof English, after commenting on the worth of several masters, concluded\nsomewhat as follows: \"And there are those who say you should read what I\nhave written, and I agree with them, for I believe I have written more\ncarefully than most men.\" That was critical self-judgment, not\nself-conceit. Still we are all more or less familiar with the conceit of\nignorance, the assumption of men and women who do not know the mere\nalphabet of the subjects they profess to be experts on. Recently, on our\nsleeping car, when a few people got together to sing, one of the\npassengers, with a self-conceit that was as ludicrous as it was\nignorant, spoke of the baritone voice of one of the women and discoursed\nlearnedly upon the bass of the man who was singing tenor.\n\nWe have a writer in California who knows so well that he knows, that\nsome of us think he knows \"by the grace of God,\" without study or\neffort. His whole radiancy is one of cocksure self-conceit.\n\nWho has not felt the radiancy of the miserliness of some men and women!\nThose who would \"squeeze the eagle on a penny until the poor bird\nscreams.\"\n\nIn his _Tom Brown at Rugby_, Hughes shows that Arnold always radiated\nhis full appreciation of all the good in all the boys under his care.\nMaud Ballington Booth is a wonderful illustration of training to\nperceive the good radiancies in men and women in whom most others can\nsee and feel only evil.\n\nIs not this a quality of soul to be highly desired? How beautiful, how\nhelpful, how comforting to others long used to feeling that only the\nevil of them is radiated to others, to feel the sympathy of a\nlarge-hearted, pure, beautiful soul which has responded to the weak\nradiancies of the good that struggles for life within.\n\nFor, just as I have shown elsewhere that we must be alert to receive the\nradiancies of animate and inanimate nature, so must we be receptive to\nthat which our fellow beings radiate. We should train ourselves in\nreceptiveness to that which is good. All prejudice, narrowness, conceit,\nover self-confidence, cocksureness, tend to ward off the good radiancies\nof others. There are odors so subtle that the olfactory nerves of most\npeople are incapable of recognizing them. There are notes so refined\nthat ordinary ears cannot hear them, and we are all familiar with the\nfact that there are infinite depths of space that the largest telescopes\nfail to penetrate. The expert violinist cherishes his sense of touch\nthat he may not vitiate his playing, and the engraver, the watchmaker,\nand the workers in a score and one other trades cultivate and preserve\nhigh sensitiveness of touch in order that they may become more expert.\nThe piano tuner's ear recognizes variations in the vibrations of the\nstrings he is tuning that most of us fail to appreciate, and the ear of\na Theodore Thomas, Carl Muck, Charles Halle, or any other masterly\nconductor, recognizes fine shades of expression, harmony, and\ntastefulness in the playing of an orchestra that but few can appreciate.\nBrowning in _Rabbi Ben Ezra_ speaks of things that God takes note of in\nmeasuring the man's account that men ignore:\n\n    All instincts immature,\n    All purposes unsure;\n    Thoughts hardly to be packed\n    Into a narrow act.\n    All I could never be,\n    All men ignored in me,\n      This I was worth to God.\n\nWe may not be able to discern these \"instincts immature,\" these \"facts\nthat break through language and escape,\" but we can assuredly discipline\nour minds and souls to see, hear, feel, and touch many beautiful things\nin our fellows which we too often ignore.\n\nReader, what are you radiating? I cannot answer that question. Your\nfriends and your enemies may tell in part. You alone can tell all. Sit\ndown some day, many days, and study yourself. Weigh yourself. See how\nmuch good you are doing, how much evil. Write out a balance sheet. It\nwill help you in your efforts to know what you most need to seek to\nradiate in future, and what to avoid radiating.\n\nYou surely do not _want_ to radiate evil.\n\nYou surely _want_ to radiate only good.\n\nIs it not better consciously to radiate that which you wish than\nunconsciously (or thoughtlessly) to radiate that which you do not wish?\n\nAs, consciously or unconsciously, we radiate that which is within us,\nwhether good or evil, should we not aim consciously to radiate the best\nof which we are capable, and thus evidence that we are striving to\novercome all the evil that may be within us?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nRADIANCIES OF INDIVIDUALITY\n\n\nI want to radiate individuality. I want to be myself and none other. If\nI see in others things to emulate, things that will more fully make me\nwhat I want and ought to be, then emulation becomes a joyful duty--the\nsomething in another becomes part of myself through my desire, my\nemulation, my longing to attain. Hence in the right seeking to be myself\nI seek also to be like all the good in others which appeals to me.\nHerein is no destruction of my individuality. It is a perfecting of it.\nI take what is my own, no matter where or how I find it.\n\nIt is so well known as to be trite that men and women are mere sheep. We\nfollow our leaders. We are anything but individual. In religion, in\nmedicine, in law, in speech, in dress, in amusements, in architecture,\nin literature, in food, in everything, custom and fashion dominate us.\n\nI would radiate a healthy resistance to the dictates of fashion. Why\nshould fashion ride rough-shod over the wisdom of men and women? The\nhoop-skirt, the stove-pipe collar and hat, the camel's hump of fifteen\nor twenty years ago that the ladies wore as an extra adornment, the\nchignon, and a thousand and one other foolish things that once\ndomineeringly dared us to defy them have disappeared. Why should we ever\nhave yielded to them? What is fashion, anyhow? She is a fickle damsel,\ngenerally proud of her money, whose good looks are often the result of\npowder and paint and chalk and rouge instead of good health, vigor, and\nlove. She is a mere flirt, carried away for a few hours with anything as\na whim to pass away the time; without heart, feeling, sensibility,\nbrain, or knowledge. Her fads are more likely to be wrong than right,\nand when right are generally the result of a lapse into sensibility by\nrelinquishing any pretense at thought into the hands of some one who can\nthink for her. Fashion, a heartless, conscienceless, soulless jade whose\nfriendship and favor are a curse, whose flatteries are hollow,\ninsincere, and corrupting, and whose only use for any one or anything\nlasts merely so long as her own selfish pleasures are attained or desire\nfor novelty satisfied.\n\nWhy let fashion dictate what we shall wear? Radiate your distrust of its\njudgment. Radiate your refusal to submit to its dictates. Radiate your\nfull and calm determination, without argument, to live in your own way.\nIf a certain \"style\" of dress, which is structural, honest, neat, is\nsuited to you to-day, it is suited to you to-morrow and for all time. Be\nyourself and _wear that style_ regardless of the fluctuations of\nfashion. Why should fashion say that a man's overcoat this year shall\nfit him tightly and keep him warm, and next year fit him loosely and\nsend him into the cold, through a storm, shivering and chilled? What\nsense, what manliness, what dignity, is there in allowing a\n\"fashion-designer\" to thus have the opportunity of ruining our health?\nLet us radiate our positive repudiation of such insane follies, of such\nsins against our bodies, and in our dress, our food, our social customs,\nbe ourselves in a kindly, unselfish, unobtrusive manner.\n\nWherever fashion dictates in matters of dress, of personal custom, there\nyou find at once a restricted and \"provincial\" people. For fashion\ncompels adherence to her silly commands, hence picturesque individuality\ndisappears. A few years ago the clever editor of the New York _Journal_\nwrote an editorial against men's wearing whiskers. One part of his\nargument was that the hairs were carriers of disease-germs, and that,\ntherefore, a man with whiskers was dangerous and to be shunned.\nThousands of the poor people of New York read and believed this man's\npreposterous screed, and were thus made unhappy and miserable, and by\nmental suggestion rendered more liable to the attacks of disease than\nthey would have been had these foolish words never been penned.\n\nIt was fashion--not a care for health--that dictated those words. We\nAmericans so love the intellectual conversation and edifying monologues\nof our barbers that we allow them to dictate to us whether we shall have\nhair on our cheeks or not, whether we shall have our necks shaved, and\nhow much and whose \"restorer\" we shall put upon our hair.\n\nI use the barber here merely as a type. He by no means stands alone.\n\nI am determined to radiate a quiet but forceful protest against having\nmy life or that of my fellows dictated to, in purely personal matters,\nby any one, whether he be priest, doctor, lawyer, barber, or editor. Let\neach live his own life, within reasonable bounds, and let each _expect_\nevery other to be himself. In nature there are no two things alike, yet\nfashion would have us _all alike_; and, it might be added, therefore,\nall foolish.\n\nIn seeking for the expression of yourself do not for one moment think it\nis necessary for you to think out something new, original, startling, or\nstrange. That is not the idea at all. Your life may be _yours_--purely\nindividualistic, and yet everything you do and say and think and feel be\nas old as the hills. The idea is this. No matter where you get the\nthoughts from that incite you to action, _make them your own_; _let\nthem become a part of yourself_, then your life will be yours indeed; an\nexpression of your own soul, and not that imitation of another that\nEmerson so truthfully says is suicide.\n\nBut in the radiating of my own individuality I must be so filled with\nthe true spirit of individuality that I shall in no way interfere with\nthat of others. Too often men and women in seeking to be \"individual\"\nhave seriously trespassed upon the rights, the joys, the comforts of\nothers. This is a fundamental error. The first law of individualism is\nthis: \"What I claim for myself I _thereby freely accord_ to all others.\"\nNote the word \"thereby.\" In the very fact and act of claiming I\n_thereby_ freely recognize _to the utmost_ the right of every one else\nto claim the same right. There is no selfishness in individualism; there\nare no \"special\" privileges in its exercise. It is the habit of a few to\nbelieve that _they_ should have \"special\" privileges accorded them. True\nindividualism recognizes no such special rights. In _taking_ we _give_.\nIn claiming we avow the right of others to claim.\n\nThe trouble with mankind is that it has not learned that souls are\nindividuals; that the diversities seen between plants, the differences\nthat exist even between blades of grass, so that there are no two blades\nexactly alike, is but indicative of the individualism of the human\nsoul. There is a family likeness, for we are all created in God's image,\nbut God is so large, so great, so diverse, in Himself, that each soul is\na different image. Hence each soul must be itself and not another. Each\nsoul must develop in its own lines and not in those of others.\n\nThe great errors have come in when men have said: \"I have found the way\nof life; it is the only way; all men, therefore, must walk herein.\" It\nis a very human error, yet error it certainly is. That Roman Catholicism\nis \"the way\" for many human souls no one can question, but that it is\n\"the only way for all human souls\" many millions have questioned and\ndoubtless for ever will question. Every church, every creed, every\nphilosophy has those for whom it is \"the way,\" for the time being at\nleast, and it is well that they walk therein. But in thought religion,\nas in everything else, progress is the law of life, not standing still.\nIn religious thought, as in all life, let us say with our whole souls:\n\n    So welcome each rebuff\n    That turns earth's smoothness rough,\n    Each sting that bids not sit, nor stand, but go.\n\nOnward, forward, is the cry. The law of evolution has demonstrated that\nthere must ever be the disturbance of the equilibrium on the lower plane\nin order that there may be the readjustment upon the higher. Every soul\nthat sits still and rests content is retrogressing. There must ever be a\ngodly discontent--a reaching out, a following after, as Paul puts it, if\nthat we may apprehend--take hold of--the things for which Christ Jesus\nhas taken hold of us.\n\nEvery soul-field must be plowed and harrowed after each harvest. Crops\ndo not volunteer very often, and a volunteer crop is never so good as\none that is carefully prepared for; ground thoroughly nourished, plowed,\ndrained, harrowed, rolled, seeded with the best of seed, watered,\nweeded, and properly harvested. Is a soul's harvest to be left to\nchance, while farmers take anxious thought for field-harvests, where\nonly a few dollars' worth of produce are the outcome? Let us be wise for\nour own souls.\n\nI can only radiate individuality when I am individualistic.\n\nIs there no infallible, certain, sure way of doing things? Of learning\nthings?\n\nI know not what others have found, I only know for myself _that there is\nbut one way, and that is the way of personal test and experience_.\n\nCardinal Newman, one of the greatest, simplest, purest, and sweetest\nminds of the last century, had to put his life's guidance into the hands\nof the church--the Mother Church, to him--the Roman Catholic Church. His\npiteous cry has voiced the cry of millions of human souls since; souls\ngroping in the dark, seeking for light, desiring above all to _know_.\n\n    Lead, kindly light, amid th' encircling gloom,\n      Lead Thou me on;\n    The night is dark, and I am far from home,\n      Lead Thou me on.\n    Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see\n    The distant scene; one step enough for me.\n\nIt was his desire to know that led him to write the hymn.\n\nWhat a profound truth Emerson said when he wrote: \"A man should learn to\ndetect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from\nwithin, more than the luster of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he\ndismisses without notice his thought, _because it is his_.\"\n\nThe italics are mine. Why will men rely more upon written words than\nupon the flashes of illuminated truth that come to their own souls? God\nand His truth are as much for me as for any man. There is as much truth,\nwisdom, knowledge in the universe for me as for all the wise and learned\nof all the ages. It is outside of me, waiting to come in, anxious to\ncome in if I will allow it to do so, and yet I allow a Board of Bishops,\na College of Medicine, a Bench of Judges to dictate to me as to what of\nGod and His truth I shall receive. While it is my duty and privilege to\nstudy reverently all which these people would present to me as the\ntruth, I want to radiate with all the power of my nature my belief that\nevery soul must find truth for itself. There is no patent truth\nextractor that suits every human need. Conventional thought which\nprofesses to express \"the truth\" is merely man's sign-board to point out\nto you the way some one else has found truth. Too often, alas, it is\nused as a restricting bond to tell you beyond which bounds you must not\ngo. Let no man bind you. God is over all and in all. His truth is\neverywhere. _Seek in spirit and in truth_ and you will find,--_for\nyourself_. But be careful, when you have found for yourself, that you do\nnot make the common mistake of most human beings, and endeavor to force\nyour truth, appropriate and suitable for you, down the mental and\nspiritual throats of every one else as the appropriate and suitable\ntruth for them. Leave to every other soul the right, the privilege, the\njoy, the necessity of finding truth for himself, herself. Tell what you\nhave found, if you like, but tell it reverently, as a gift to you, not\nas a divine light for every one else.\n\nThis, therefore, is the individuality I would radiate. I would have the\nHindoo, the Hottentot, the Hopi, the Roman Catholic, the Mormon, the\nChinaman, the Methodist all feel that I revere and respect their\nindividuality even as I revere and respect my own. But, further--and\nhere is the important thing--I would so radiate that they will respect\nand revere mine as I respect theirs. When the Methodist says either in\nwords or acts, \"I am a Methodist and therefore you should be one,\" he\nviolates the law of individuality as of moral freedom. So with the Hopi,\nthe Catholic, the Hindoo.\n\nI would have it clear, therefore, that individualism is not\n\"toleration.\" What is there in my exercise of a God-given right and duty\nto be myself that should call for the assumption of my fellow being that\nHE will \"tolerate\" these rights? Therefore, I do not want to be\n\"tolerant\" to my fellows. I would radiate the individualism which goes\nahead and thinks and acts according to the dictates of personal\nconscience. It is all very well to say that we should learn from the\ncombined wisdom of the ages. I am not so sure of much of it, after all!\nI accept the astronomy of to-day, but by no means believe our\nastronomers have said the last word, any more than I believe that the\ngreat and humble Newton said the last word when he declared that man had\ngained the summit in the art of telescope making. Just four years after\nhe made that foolish assertion John Dolland invented the achromatic\ntelescope which has revolutionized the astronomical science of the world\nby adding infinitely to the astronomer's seeing power.\n\n_Nothing_ in human life is yet complete. There is _no_ absolute truth\ncarried out to its ultimate. When numbers were first discovered our\nforefathers thought they had gone as far as it was possible, in\ndiscovering that two and two make four. Then geometry was discovered and\nEuclid changed the arithmetic of the world, and the teachers said we had\ngone as far as it was possible. Then algebra was discovered and the\nworld found out the teachers were wrong in limiting the science of\narithmetic. Yet foolish people would not learn from the folly of the\npast. They wisely and sagely declared that _now, at last_, the ultimate\nhad been reached. But Newton comes along and with his \"Calculus\" opens\nup new worlds in arithmetical science. NOW we have got it all, declares\nthe teacher of _fixed_ truth. Yet in the year of Our Lord, one thousand\nnineteen hundred and six, there comes a Japanese, and in his _Handbook\nof Chess_ demonstrates as great an advance in arithmetical science as\nNewton did in his Calculus. We are yet children. We shall ever be\nlearning so long as we are human. The knowledge we have so far gained is\nvast, apparently, when compared with the knowledge held in the Dark\nAges, but, as compared _with what there is yet stored away for us to\nknow_, I verily believe it is so insignificant, so slight, so small, so\npuny, so infinitesimal, as to excite the pity and the contempt of any\nsuperior beings who look down upon us and see us strutting in our\ndoctor's mortar-boards and gowns in our assumed wisdom.\n\nGod forbid that any arrogant pretension of mine should ever prevent one\ntruth from entering a human soul. I want to radiate my acceptance of all\nthere is, but my expectance for the large _more_ that is yet to come.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nCONFLICTING RADIANCIES\n\n\nThere are few, if any, human beings in the world who radiate only evil,\nor, on the other hand, only good. Man is a _human_ being, not divine.\nHumanity implies a lower stage than divinity, and whether what we call\nevil be but manifestations of the imperfect and incomplete, or\ndeliberate wrong choice for which one is personally responsible, we are\nall compelled to admit that there are few people with whom we meet who\nradiate toward us and all others only that which is good. Sometimes\nthese \"not good\" radiancies have no immoral intent in them, though they\nproduce bad results.\n\nFor instance, it is a well-known fact that many a man is driven to\ndrunkenness by an unhappy home life, yet probably no member of the\nhousehold has the deliberate intention of producing such a result. It\nmay be that he is equally to blame for the conditions in his home, for\nall are imperfect, yet if the appetite for drink has been formed, or\nenvironment supplies great temptation, the complaints, taunts, or anger\nof his unhappy family do not increase his powers of resistance, but\nrather weaken them. There are men, also, who frankly confess to a\nreckless impulse to do wrong whenever they come under any very\ndepressing influence. It may be true that some peculiarity of\ntemperament renders them liable to be thrown out of mental balance.\nThere may be inherent weakness, or hereditary tendency, which renders\nthem unusually susceptible to depressing radiancies, but the results are\njust as deplorable.\n\nDoubtless many a woman, too, warped and twisted out of normal conditions\nby disappointment, ill-treatment, and mental suffering, becomes a\ntongue-lasher, goes to the bad, or commits suicide, when different\ninfluences and environment would have saved her from such consequences.\nThere may not seem to be any immorality in the nagging of a husband, or\na wife, or a parent, yet the persistent nagging of some person, whose\nintent was only good, has produced direful effects in various ways.\n\nThese and a thousand other tendencies of the human being point to our\npresent imperfection or subjugation to error, out of which we must rise.\n\n_I know a poet._ His words have thrilled millions to a nobler and better\nlife. His pen has never incited to a mean or ignoble thought or action;\nit has always written high and noble truth--peace, good will to men, the\ndignity of labor, the joy of helping, the blessing of purity, the\nnever-failing help of God--and yet in his personal life he sometimes\nradiates the degradation of drunkenness and the awfulness of impurity.\n\n_I know a writer._ He is one of the most brilliant men of his State. His\nknowledge is profound. He devotes more time, unselfishly, to the good of\nhis adopted city and State than any other man I know. His work is\nuntiring in its fervid zeal for the preservation of historic landmarks\nthat without his efforts would possibly have disappeared; and also for a\nmuseum for the accumulation of evidences of past civilization. Yet he\nradiates a vindictive jealousy and fierce hatred of those whom he does\nnot like that makes even his friends afraid of him and fearful lest they\nincur his anger.\n\nShelley, Byron, Poe, Bret Harte, Leigh Hunt, Landor--and thousands of\nothers, including the Psalmist David, the Hebrew king whom God\nloved--radiated grand, sublime, divine truths, yet they also radiated\nweakness and moral wrong.\n\nWhat should be our mental attitude toward those who give such\nconflicting radiancies? Shall we ignore the evil and see only the good?\nHow _can_ we? How _dare_ we?\n\nShall we ignore the good and see only the evil?\n\nAgain I ask, How can we? How dare we?\n\nThere are good people, I know, who do both of these, to me, impossible\nthings. I want to do neither. I will do neither if I can possibly help\nit. I will not stultify _my own_ sense of right and wrong by ignoring\nwhat I deem to be wrong in another. I will reprobate it, for myself, and\nearnestly strive to be kept free from it, but, at the same time, I will\nsee the good in all its beauty and power and will glorify it and accept\nit, and thank God that so much good does exist.\n\nThe whole question thus resolves itself to me: Shall I refuse to accept\nthe good of certain men because they do many evil things? Shall I refuse\nto accept good except from those who are perfect? If so, from whom shall\nI gain good? From you, reader? Are you perfect? If you take that\nposition you had better drop this book, here and now, for you cannot\nreceive good from me, for too sadly do I know that neither the book nor\nits writer is perfect. Joaquin Miller perfectly expresses this thought\nin the introductory lines to his poem on Byron:\n\n    In men whom men condemn as ill,\n    I find so much of goodness still,\n    In men whom men account divine,\n    I find so much of sin and blot,\n    I hesitate to draw the line between the two,\n    Where God has not!\n\nLet us be fearless, honest, just, frank. Too often we condemn people who\nhave as much good as evil in them--or more--because we are afraid if we\ndo not condemn the evil that they do, openly and loudly, people will\nthink we tolerate evil because we ourselves are evil. Hawthorne wrote\nhis _Scarlet Letter_ to teach us different. The harsh, stern,\nvindictively pure and good people--in my humble judgment--have many and\ngrave sins to answer for as well as those whom they so mercilessly\ncondemn. I condemn all that which appears evil to me, and I seek to\navoid it, but I condemn no man, no woman. That is not my privilege, my\nwork. Judgment belongs to God who knows all circumstances and\nunderstands all hearts. I know and understand very little, for I am very\nshort-sighted and ignorant. How can any of us look with so severe an eye\nupon the sins of our brothers and sisters when we, too, are imperfect,\nignorant, prone to wrong. John Wesley taught the people of his\ndenomination very differently, though they haven't yet learned the\nlesson. One of his hymns says:\n\n    To hate sin with all my heart\n    And yet the sinner love.\n\nAnd the Lord of the whole Christian Church spoke in no uncertain terms\nwhen He said, \"Judge Not,\" and in His action to those who brought the\nadulterous woman to Him clearly showed us what our attitude should be.\nJoaquin Miller wrote a much-needed lesson for this age, this\ncivilization, this people (the puritanic American and Anglo-Saxon), when\nhe took this incident in Christ's life and made it the theme of his\npoem, _Charity_. May its high and sympathetic truths sink deep, so that\nhenceforth you will be able to stand side by side with the Divine in\ndealing with sinful men and women, and while condemning the sin be able\nto say: \"Go, and sin no more.\" And, remember, it is not for you to say\nwhich sin is most sinful in God's sight. You may know which is of\ngreater horror to yourself, but it may be that the \"darling sin\" you\ncherish in secret, or the \"weakness\" of your life may be regarded by the\nDivine as of great culpability as well as the \"horrible sin\" you so much\ndeplore and feel you must condemn so bitterly in another.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nRADIANCIES OF FEAR\n\n\nFear is the greatest enemy of mankind. It is the creator of evil, for\nmany people sin through fear. It is the maker of cowards and moral\nweaklings, the foe of all progress, the barrier to advancement,\nphysical, mental, spiritual. He who is afraid dares not, and he who\ndares not, knows not, feels not, enjoys not. The fearful do not live;\nthey merely exist, in bondage to a terror that leaves them neither night\nnor day. They know few of the delights of achievement, for they are\nafraid to dare. Fear throttles endeavor, stifles hope, murders\naspiration. It is a hydra-headed monster of protean forms. It is a liar\nand a coward, a beguiler and a thief, a sneak and a poltroon, a\nslanderer and a cur. It comes in a thousand guises--sometimes as\ncaution, then as tact, again as consideration for others, but ever and\nalways as a deceiver and a destroyer.\n\nIf there is one thing above another that I wish I had learned in\nearliest youth, and I wish I had known enough to teach my children in\ntheir earliest days, it is perfect fearlessness. The only thing I fear\nto-day is fear. To go through life afraid of this and that and the\nother, is to take away all joy, all spontaneity, all freedom, all\naspiration, all endeavor.\n\nI used to believe and teach that we should \"fear God.\" But the word\n\"fear\" as here used is not the abject, groveling, contemptible feeling\nthat so many people imagine it to be. God has made us in His own image.\nHe wishes us to stand upright, and greet Him as filial beings should,\nproud and glad to come to Him as \"Our Father.\"\n\nFear makes us whine and whimper before God, and go to Him in the same\nspirit of dread that leads the Indian to feel he must always be\npropitiating the powers that be. If he does not pray and sing and dance\nand smoke the good powers will be offended, and will injure him, and the\nevil powers will be made more evil and do him more harm than they\notherwise would. Hence month in and month out, because of fear, he seeks\nby his dances, and smokings, and songs, and prayers to protect himself\nfrom evil by soothing their possible anger and quieting their fury\nagainst him.\n\nThere is much of this same spirit in our old-time theology, and our\npresent-day life. We are afraid of God. God doesn't want us to be\nafraid. Every man should therefore stand upright, afraid of neither God,\nman, nor devil. God is no tyrant to be turned from His purposes by\nsycophantic worship, or by \"much speaking\" and importunity. He is a\nreasonable God, a loving God, a just God, a merciful God, and abject\nfear will never change His plans as to His treatment of any human being.\n\nAs to being afraid of men, why should one man ever be afraid of another?\nLet us stand upright as men--one man just as good as another--_if he is\nas good_, and if he isn't as good, knowing that all the potentialities\nof godhead are within his own soul. We are gods, says Browning, though\nbut as yet in the germ. Let us fearlessly develop the germ, or give it\nopportunity for development.\n\nAnd as to being afraid of the devil, I have long since learned that the\nproper way to deal with what I suppose to be the devil--or his\nhenchmen--is simply to straighten up my back, look him squarely in the\neye, and definitely and positively bid him \"Go to hell!\" Even the most\nmodest and refined of preachers, whether of the new or old type, will\nagree that that is the only place for the devil and his myrmidons.\n\nI would have my children, myself, and the world afraid of nothing but of\nevil--and by evil I mean those sins that I myself know are\nevil--selfishness, pride, uncleanness, as well as the sins of the\ndecalogue. But even here I would not let it be a fear that dreads\nfalling into these sins. I would not anticipate or expect anything of\nthe kind. Hence, in one sense I would not have them afraid of evil.\nResist evil and it will flee from you. Harbor it not, do not dread it,\nbut resolve to slay it by its opposite good. The evil is null if you\nlive its opposite. There is no need for an unselfish man to fear\nselfishness. A man who gives freely never need fear that he will become\na miser.\n\nYet people go through life afraid, and teach their children to be\nafraid, and thus lose nine-tenths of the love and joy and power and\nblessing of life.\n\nFear holds a large and powerful grip upon the human race. Scarce one\nwoman in a thousand of the so-called civilized portion but is afraid of\nchild-birth--a perfectly natural process that should be attended with\nall the angels of Love and Joy and Welcome, instead of the horrible\ndemons of Fear. From the time of birth until its body falls into the\ngrave the mortal is taught fear. We pay preachers, teachers, lawyers,\nand doctors, and much of their work consists of fostering our fears. I\nhave a picture before my mind's eye now of one of the noblest and best\nwomen that ever lived. Her whole life was a self-sacrifice, an unselfish\ndevotion to others, yet, such was the theology that had been taught to\nher that she was constantly in dread lest she had done wrong, she was\never sitting on the stool of repentance, and life was a gloomy, somber,\nawful thing to her, because of her \"dread of an angry God.\"\n\nThousands of people fear death because they have been taught that when\nthey die they may \"go to hell\" for sins done on earth.\n\nA mother was telling me only a few days ago of the perfect fearlessness\nof her boy until (when about six years of age) he went to a Sunday\nschool, where they taught him their ideas of the devil and hell and\nGod's method of punishing sin. That night he dared not go to bed without\na light and woke up several times crying that he was afraid of sinking\ninto hell.\n\nWhatever preachers may feel it to be their duty to teach of hell and\nGod's anger to grown men and women, I deem it monstrously cruel to put\nsuch fears into the plastic and trustful souls of the young.\n\nTeachers, lawyers, and doctors are as bad as the preachers. We must\navoid \"night air,\" and draughts, and getting our feet wet, and not\neating enough, and eating too much. We must not eat this and that, and\nmust not do that or the other. Fear is instilled into our minds all\nalong the pathway of life until if we are not healthy enough to throw it\naway and live our own fearless life, we are weighted down by the burden\nof our needless and senseless fears. All quack doctors work on the\nfoolish and ignorant fears of the people, or their nostrums would never\nsell enough to pay a thousandth part of what their advertising costs.\nFear is the club that scoundrels use to beat the ignorant into paying\ntribute to them.\n\nI do not believe in these fears--to me they are all bad, and nothing but\nbad. I would banish every one of them from the human heart.\n\nBut, says an objector, you surely would not let your child go and handle\na deadly rattlesnake, or send your growing and innocent girl into the\ncompany of expert _rou\u00e9s_, or willfully sleep in a miasmic atmosphere,\nor inhale the poisonous gases of a badly cared-for plumbing system? Of\ncourse not. But neither would I be afraid of them. There is all the\ndifference in the world between _knowledge of danger_, and _fear_ of\nthat danger. Let a child be taught definitely and positively the danger\nof handling a rattlesnake, but do not fill his soul with fear of it;\nimpress forcefully and strongly the wisdom of avoiding evil company upon\nyour daughter, but teach her to be absolutely fearless in the presence\nof the debauchee; seek to the full how to avoid all miasma and deadly\nplumbing, but be fearless about them. Fear is the product of ignorance;\nfearlessness of knowledge. If my child knows all the harm a rattlesnake\ncan do, and all the power it possesses, he can avoid it as easily as\nnot. Therefore why should he be afraid? The feminine fears of mice,\nrats, spiders, and snakes are evidences either of ignorance, or of a\ndeveloped hereditary tendency to fear. In the former case the fearful\none should be trained so as to remove her fear, in the latter she should\nresolutely set her will to work to overcome it, in which all her friends\nshould sympathetically aid her.\n\nFear has ever been the foe of progress. Every advance step in all life\nhas been taken by him only who had throttled his fears. Fire was\nconquered for the human race by the man who dared brave the strange and\nweird flames that grew and then disappeared. Prometheus--the\nfearless--is the type of all who have helped the race to progress. It is\nthe same in every field of endeavor, on every plane of thought. Galileo,\nNewton, Savonarola, the barons of King John's time, Cromwell, Luther,\nBacon, Captain Cook, Washington, Lincoln are but a few of the thousands\nof names of men who have dared, who have bid their fears depart, and in\nso doing have advanced the human race.\n\nJoaquin Miller in his grand poem _Columbus_ clearly shows what would\nhave become of him and the discovery of the new world had he let the\nfears of the mate and his sailors affect him. Read it carefully with\nthis thought in view. Indeed it is well worth memorizing as a standing\nlesson against fear.\n\n\nCOLUMBUS\n\n    Behind him lay the gray Azores,\n      Behind the Gates of Hercules;\n    Before him not the ghost of shores;\n      Before him only shoreless seas.\n    The good mate said: \"Now must we pray,\n      For lo! the very stars are gone.\n    Brave Admir'l, speak; what shall I say?\"\n      \"Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'\"\n\n    \"My men grow mutinous day by day;\n      My men grow ghastly wan and weak.\"\n    The stout mate thought of home; a spray\n      Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.\n    \"What shall I say, brave Admir'l, say,\n      If we sight naught but seas at dawn?\"\n    \"Why, you shall say at break of day:\n      'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'\"\n\n    They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,\n      Until at last the blanched mate said:\n    \"Why, now, not even God would know\n      Should I and all my men fall dead.\n    These very winds forget their way,\n      For God from these dread seas is gone.\n    Now speak, brave Admir'l; speak and say----\"\n      He said: \"Sail on! sail on! and on!\"\n\n    They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:\n      \"This mad sea shows his teeth to-night.\n    He curls his lip, he lies in wait,\n      With lifted teeth, as if to bite!\n    Brave Admir'l, say but one good word:\n      What shall we do when hope is gone?\"\n    The words leapt like a leaping sword:\n      \"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!\"\n\n    Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,\n      And peered through darkness. Ah, that night\n    Of all dark nights! and then a speck--\n      A light! A light? A light! A light!\n    It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!\n      It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.\n    He gained a world; he gave that world\n      Its grandest lesson: \"On! sail on!\"[C]\n\n[C] This poem has recently been set to music by Dr. Carlos Troyer, of\nSan Francisco, that is as thrilling and soul-stirring as are the words.\nCopies may be had by sending sixty cents in postage stamps to Dr.\nTroyer, 1236 19th Ave., Sunset District, San Francisco, Calif.\n\nSydney Smith once well said: \"A great deal of talent is lost to the\nworld for want of a little courage. Every day sends to their graves men\nwho have remained obscure because of timidity. The fact is that, in\norder to do anything in this world worth doing, we must not stand\nshivering on the brink and thinking of the cold and danger; but jump in\nand scramble through as well as we can. It will not do to be perpetually\ncalculating risks, and adjusting nice chances. It did very well before\nthe flood, when a man could consult his friends upon an intended\npublication for a hundred and fifty years, and live to see its success\nfor six or seven centuries afterward. But at present a man waits, and\ndoubts, and hesitates, and consults his father, brother, cousin,\nfriends, till one fine day he finds he is sixty-five years of age. There\nis so little time for our squeamishness that it is no bad rule to preach\nup the necessity of a little violence done to the feelings and of\nefforts made in defiance of strict and sober calculation.\"\n\nToo often elderly friends, with the best of intentions, inculcate this\nfear into the hearts of the young. Never was there a greater mistake or\n_real_ unkindness. It is nothing that the intent is good. One's intent\nmay palliate any judgment rendered against the offender, but, the\nunfortunate result, the implanting of the fear, cannot so easily be\nforgiven. Oh that I could prevail upon older people to refrain from this\nterribly demoralizing habit of giving advice to the young that\ninculcates fear. Let me illustrate:\n\nA young man is a clerk in an office. He sees an opening to which his\nheart and brain strongly impel him, but there is a little, perhaps a\ngreat deal, of risk connected with it. He goes for advice to his older\nfriends. They, with their life-work practically finished, valuing their\nrest and content more than desiring to re\u00ebnter the battle of life,\nnaturally are wary about an uncertainty. \"Why not leave well enough\nalone? Why run the risk? What will you do if this fails? You will have\ngiven up a certainty for an uncertainty,\" and so on.\n\nAh! worldly wise though it _seems_, it is the most injurious and harmful\nadvice that the young could possibly receive. Where would progress and\nadvancement be to-day if many had not totally disregarded such smug,\nself-contented, unheroic advice! Thank God, youth is the time for\nadventure, for striking out, for _making mistakes_, for learning, for\ntesting, for \"proving _all_ things,\" and holding fast to that which is\ngood. Old age has had its day. It has made its mistakes and profited by\nthem. Let it keep its hands off the young. Let them have their\nopportunity.\n\nHerbert Spencer tells of throwing up a good job as civil engineer in\norder to experiment with a matter that a fortnight proved to be utterly\nimpossible. Yet fifty years later he thus reviewed this apparently\nself-injurious act: \"Had there not been this seemingly foolish act, I\nshould have passed a humdrum and not very prosperous life as a civil\nengineer. That which has since been done would never have been done.\"\n\nIn other words, the act that shook him out of the rut, the contented,\ncommon, mediocre path, compelled him to find a new path for himself, and\nthis called upon all the resources of his great and, to him and others,\nunknown nature, and he developed into the transcendent genius, the\nprofound philosopher, whose writings had greater influence, perhaps,\nupon his century than those of any other man.\n\nHence I want to radiate the spirit of complete fearlessness, not only\nfor myself, but for my young friends of both sexes, all the sons and\ndaughters of men. I would calmly watch them plunge overboard into the\nocean of life, trustful and confident, having first taught them the\nfirst few strokes of swimming--the principles of true and godly\nliving--and then stand, fearlessly, and watch them strike out for\nthemselves. I swam,--why should not they? God is in His heaven to-day\nwatching the sparrows fly just as He was a score, a hundred, a thousand\nyears ago.\n\nIn the mental world how fearful people often are of breaking away from\nold ideas. Only the other day a friend wrote me that he had been to a\nfuneral, conducted by an orthodox clergyman. He said: \"I imagine his is\na very orthodox denomination, if he is a fair sample of what they\nbelieve. Glimmerings of a soul that hungers for larger things than its\ncreed allowed was evident in his talk, however. Is it not pitiful, and\nmore, is it not tragical, how people allow their soul-instincts and\nnatural outreachings to be killed, or hampered, or stilled by what their\nbefuddled brains or the brains of others have decided is proper, or\naccepted as proper, to believe?\"\n\nI can remember when good Methodists and Congregationalists were \"kicked\nout of the church\" for daring to hope that all men would ultimately be\nsaved, and I have heard preachers and doctors fulminating against\nChristian Science and everything else that did not conform exactly to\nwhat they believed, and seeking to work upon the fears of their\ncongregations to prevent any investigation. This kind of fear is\nunworthy the human soul. Be in a daring, a receptive, an investigative\nstate of mind. I would radiate a readiness and willingness to listen to\nanything that has proven, or seems to have proven, a truth to another. I\nwant to welcome truth from wherever it comes, whether popular or\nunpopular, wanted or unwanted. I would broaden my horizon, heighten my\naspirations and deepen my conceptions of truth and be glad to receive\nfrom any source. I well remember John Ruskin saying to me: \"Never read\nthat book or listen to that sermon which you know beforehand you will\nagree with. By so doing you deepen the ruts of your own mentality.\" I\nwant no mental or spiritual ruts. Good roads are never \"rutted.\" I wish\nto be a broad, wide, well-paved, solid road, over which all truth may\nrun, welcome, free, untaxed, life-giving.\n\nIn his _Memory and Rime_, Joaquin Miller in speaking of poets refers to\nthem as \"these men who have room and strength and the divine audacity to\nthink for themselves.\"\n\nWhen a man strikes out for himself, in thought and action, he does have\nto be audacious, in the higher sense of the word. He has to dare his\nfellow men, dare their criticism, dare their disapproval, dare to shock\nthem, dare to grieve them, perhaps. He has to dare himself, throw down\nthe gauntlet to himself in his struggle to become completely what he\nbelieves to be highest and best. It takes a great deal of courage to do\nall that, a great deal of resolution--an initiative that may seem\nimpudence, a fearlessness that may seem recklessness.\n\nThe strength that makes it possible to do this must be a strength like\nto the divine strength. A strength ordained from the foundation of the\nearth as a part of man's birthright, to become a part of himself, when\nhe begins to try for himself to conceive of higher good and to live it.\nThe man who thinks only as other men think, dares act only as other men\nact, is as a babe in swaddling clothes, helpless, dependent. One can\nnever be strong until he learns to walk alone, independent of another's\nhand to cling to or another's strength to steady himself by. One must\nlearn to stand on his own feet, learn to keep his own balance, learn to\nstep by his own volition. If he does not he becomes a cripple. Most\nlives are as the lives of cripples, and we help to make them so by our\ncontinued trying to force people to cling to us and our ideas,\nfrightening them into believing that they are in great danger if they\ntry to step alone. A little trembling of the legs as one first stands\nalone is nothing to be alarmed at. A few falls and bumps as we first\nstep out never seriously injure us.\n\nIt is only when a life has strength to stand out alone, independent of\nits fellows, that its soul can take hold of God.\n\nAnd I fancy that it is only when a life thinks and acts for itself, and\nallows its fellow men to think and act for themselves, that it is in a\ncondition to really give help and to receive help, really in a state of\nmind to fulfill the commandment: \"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as\nthyself.\"\n\nIt is one thing to be brave enough to do something which is hard to do\nbut which your fellow men will approve of your doing, and an entirely\ndifferent thing to do something hard but which your fellow men will not\napprove of your doing. Therefore I want to radiate into actual, living\npotentiality my belief that life consists in expression and not\nrepression. By many this is taken to be a plea for license and want of\nself-control. Do not believe it! That is not what I mean. The expression\nof evil is not the expression of myself, for I long to do only good.\nRead what St. Paul says on the subject. And by \"I,\" I mean my real self,\nas Paul did--not my lower self, my evil heredity, or whatever it is that\nseeks to drive away the good from me--I, the real I, the self which is,\nand which may not appear to the world, want to express all that is in\nthat real self. That means that I must control, slay, kill, drive out\nall the evil that comes to me and demands that I express it as part of\nmyself. It is not a part of my spiritual self, and if I express evil\nthen I am not myself in that sense. But I want to have such perfect,\nsuch absolute control over all outward expressions that I shall ever\nand at all times express nothing but that which is good; and that which\nwill be felt to be good by all people.\n\nAnd yet we must determine what we should express. The thinking man and\nwoman make their own standards. These standards, in certain great\nprinciples of honor, truth, nobleness, purity, are practically alike,\nyet most men and women are controlled by fashion, custom, society,\nrather than by their own cool, deliberate judgment. I want to radiate my\nprotest against this state of affairs. I will be my own judge and not\nplace the responsibility for my own moral life upon the judgment of any\nperson, society, clique, class, or church. I must be saved by my own\nbelief and life, not by the belief and life of others.\n\nFor years I endeavored to \"avoid the appearance of evil.\" When at last,\nhowever, I discovered that the \"appearance of evil\"--the determination\nof what it was, rested upon the average quality of the minds of the\ncommunity by which I was surrounded, and not always upon right, or\ntruth, or justice, I made up my mind that for me, at least, God had a\nhigher mission. I resolved, therefore, in His strength fearlessly to\nradiate a higher conception of things. An evil mind sees evil where none\nis; a filthy mind sees filth where is only innocence and sweetness. Was\nI to shape my life and conduct to meet the ideas of those who deem\ninnocence and trustfulness, natural simplicity, and true-heartedness as\n\"appearances of evil\"? God forbid. Rather, by far, would I suffer in the\njudgments of men and women, cruel and untrue though they would be, than\nforego the life of natural trust, simple uprightness, that alone mean\n_life_ to me.\n\nAnd this is what I desire to radiate,--a positive, powerful, healthful,\naseptic moral quality that will refuse to allow people to see evil where\nnone exists; that will lead them to prefer to see, to hope for, to\nbelieve in, the good rather than the evil in men. Better trust and be\ndeceived, than live a life of horrible mistrust. I know men and women\nare imperfect, and, like myself, composed of good and evil, therefore I\nam determined to radiate my belief in the good in them rather than\nradiate my belief in the bad of them.\n\nIt is worth while to re-read George Eliot's _Mill on the Floss_, to see\nhow poor Maggie Tulliver was misjudged and cruelly treated purely on\nwhat people _supposed_ was her wrong-doing. And I shall never forget the\ninfluence the following words had on me when I first read them. I would\nthat the lesson they contain might be burned into the inmost\nconsciousness of every reader of this book.\n\n    Even on the supposition that required the utmost stretch of\n    belief--namely, that none of the things said about Miss Tulliver\n    were true--still, since they _had_ been said about her, they had\n    cast an odor around her which must cause her to be shrunk from by\n    every woman who had to take care of her own reputation--and of\n    society. To have taken Maggie by the hand and said, 'I will not\n    believe unproved evil of you; my lips shall not utter it; my ears\n    shall be closed against it; I, too, am an erring mortal, liable to\n    stumble, apt to come short of my most earnest efforts, your lot has\n    been harder than mine, your temptation greater; let us help each\n    other to stand and walk without more falling;'--to have done this\n    would have demanded courage, deep pity, self-knowledge, generous\n    trust--would have demanded a mind that tasted no piquancy in evil\n    speaking, that felt no self-exaltation in condemning, that cheated\n    itself with no large words into the belief that life can have any\n    moral end, any high religion, which excludes the striving after\n    perfect truth, justice, and love towards the individual men and\n    women who come across our own path.\n\nIt is my earnest desire that I may radiate this spirit of courage, deep\npity, self-knowledge, generous trust, and all that follows. And this,\nnot in an abstract or theoretical way, but in the real concrete cases\nthat one meets with in life. I am not too good to associate with the\nfound-out wrong-doer if he is striving against his wrong-doing, and\naiming to be better. I would not look down on any human being because of\nany sin. Though I want to grow to hate sin more and more as the\nmanifestations of that which separates us from the Infinite, I want the\nsinner to feel that I am one with him in all desire to be free from\nevil, to be possessed only by the spirit of truth, purity, and love.\n\nAll great victories whether of peace or war have been won by the\nfearless, the unafraid. We honor the heroes of the past, of Thermopyl\u00e6,\nand the fearless and brave of all nations and all time. Tennyson's\n_Charge of the Light Brigade_ appeals to our love and respect for the\nvirile, the manly, the courageous, the fearless, and it is the same\nspirit that thrills us when we read or hear _Curfew Shall not Ring\nTo-night_. To save her lover the shrinking maiden was filled with high\nborn courage and dared to hang on to the bell. Whether we agree with his\nbeliefs or not we admire the bravery of Luther that led him to exclaim:\n\"Were there as many devils in my way as tiles on the house tops yet\nwould I go to Worms.\" Whether we approve of his ascetic life or not we\nthrill at the bravery, the simple-hearted daring of Francis of Assisi,\nwho resolutely cast aside his patrimony and dared his father's anger\nthat he might serve God in his own way.\n\nEvery advanced thinker, whose life and action spell progress for the\nrace, has to be a daring pioneer. He must be an iconoclast; he must be\nself-contained, self-assured, self-confident. He must stand aloof from\nhis fellows in the very spirit of the message he brings, for he\ndares--imperfect, weak, even sinful though he be--to be a teacher, a\nleader of others. And how natural, human, it is for those who live with\nor near him, seeing and knowing as they do, all his foibles,\nweaknesses, littlenesses, failures, sins, to magnify these things and by\nthem hide the beauty and grandeur of the lesson God has given him to\nteach the world.\n\nOur poets have given us some wonderfully vivid pictures of the fearless.\nPerhaps the greatest in all literature is Shelley's _Prometheus_. It is\nworth reading a score of times in order that its spirit of fearlessness\nmight be absorbed. Joaquin Miller's _Columbus_, which I have already\nquoted, gives a marvelously vivid picture of the great admiral when even\nhope had gone from his own heart, when he could not pierce by faith the\ndarkness of his own soul.\n\n    Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,\n    And peered through darkness. Ah, that night\n    Of all dark nights!\n\nYet though it was all darkness _to_ his own soul, and _in_ his own soul,\nhe kept on. His orders were \"Sail on!\" And his courage and bravery\nbrought him to the light of the new world.\n\nBrowning in his _Prospice_ opens with the bold and daring interrogative:\n\"Fear death?\" and, after showing what there is to fear, exclaims as in\nan ecstasy of fearlessness:\n\n    I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore\n    And bade me creep past.\n    No! let me fare like my peers, the heroes of old.\n    In a minute pay, glad, life's arrears\n    Of pain, darkness, and cold.\n\nI want to radiate the active consciousness even when I am storm-tossed,\nbeaten down by fierce winds, compelled to stay my journey by the\nsand-laden, hot sirocco of the desert, dashed upon the cruel rocks by\ntempestuous waves, frozen by the blizzards of the North, that I have\nnothing to fear, that nothing can harm me save myself, that God is over\nall and in all. As David called upon mountains, and all hills, fire, and\nhail, snow and vapors, stormy wind, to praise Him, fulfilling His word,\nso would I call. And in calling I would rest and be at peace.\n\nAnd I want to radiate to others my fearlessness for them. They need not\nfear though the heavens fall. Many a man fails in the fierce conflict\nraging in his own soul because he has been taught to fear the fierce\njudgment of an angry God. I want with all the vehemence of my nature to\nradiate a spirit that will kill and bury forever such fear in human\nsouls. Let no one daunt you by such teaching. Under all circumstances,\nbrother, keep your face up!\n\nLook ever to the stars!\n\nIf, in the conflict, you lose heart, do not let your face down so as to\nbe covered by the mud into which you are sinking. Battle on, though you\nare finally swallowed up--or fear you will be. Go down face up, and let\nthe last thing your expiring gaze rests upon, be the stars above. Though\nthe mud and mire cover your mouth so that you cannot cry out,\n\nLook up to the stars!\n\nThough it rise higher, and cover your nostrils so that you cease to\nbreath,\n\n_Look up to the stars!_\n\nThough it flows into your very eyes,\n\n_Look up to the stars!_\n\nMy word for it, my soul for yours, the God of men will take that last\nexpiring glance of yours and make it the lever that shall pull you out\nof the mire and set your feet upon the rock and establish your goings,\nand\n\nPUT A NEW SONG INTO YOUR MOUTH.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE RADIANCY OF REBUKE\n\n\nI want to radiate the ability to rebuke without offense, although this\nmay appear to be a singular desire. One night I sat with a friend\nenjoying the exquisite music of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. During\none of the most subtle and delicate passages a \"lady\" in the seat behind\nme began to whisper to her escort. It was as the thrusting of a bottle\nof sulphuretted hydrogen under my nose when I was enjoying the subtle\nessence of a violet.\n\nFour times that evening did that \"cultured\" Boston savage outrage my\nsusceptibilities by her rudeness, by her theft of my power and right of\nenjoyment.\n\nI wanted to rebuke her, and I did not know how, without giving her\noffense. I used to offend such offenders and glory in my share of the\noffense. I hope I have learned better,--yet, all the same, I do wish to\nadminister some rebuke, that will be effective. As I have said\nelsewhere, I want to do this so that my own serenity is preserved. Thus\nshall I radiate serenity and not offense. If I am disturbed, offended,\noutraged, I radiate those vibrations of unrest and disturbance. I would\nreprove kindly, but surely and effectively, and that is best done by\nbringing the offender into sympathy with the best that I desire for him\nas well as myself.\n\nI would that I could rebuke every boy who keeps a seat in a car when an\nelderly or aged man or woman stands by unseated.\n\nI would that I could rebuke every parent who fails to teach his or her\nchild his duty in this regard.\n\nI would that I could rebuke every parent who fails to require absolute\nand explicit obedience to authority--his own and all other proper\nauthorities--on the part of his or her child.\n\nI would that I could rebuke every irreverent person whether in Catholic\nCathedral, Episcopal Church, Methodist Chapel, Congregational\nMeeting-house, Navaho Hogan, Hopi Kiva, or Chinese Joss House, who\nlaugh, sneer, talk aloud, or in other vulgar way show their irreverence.\nAll are sacred to some one--all should alike be reverenced.\n\nI would that I could rebuke every haughty purse-proud woman or man who\n_demands_ service, not through love, but by power of money or fear.\n\nAnd my rebuke list would include the politician who uses his office for\ngraft, the senator who sells his vote, the legislator who hesitates to\ngive his interest and vote to all bills that seek the true welfare of\nthe common people. It would include every purveyor of adulterated foods\nfor the people, every user of child labor, every employer of sweated\nlabor, and every \"bargain-counter\" fiend who hunts for the product of\nthe sweat-shop. It would include every newspaper owner who allows\nprejudice to control his columns rather than fairness, and makes himself\na party to the willful deception of the people; every lawyer who values\nfees more than justice; every physician a case more than health; every\npreacher a fat salary more than truth.\n\nAnd it might include you, reader, did I know you as well as I know\nmyself, whom I rebuke constantly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nWHAT I WOULD RADIATE TO THE WRONG DOER\n\n\nFor two years I was the chaplain for two homes where women who had led\nevil lives were sheltered and cared for. During part of this time I\nhelped organize and conduct a midnight mission in one of the most\ndegraded parts of a large eastern city. I have had a large and varied\nacquaintance with criminals of both sexes, of all ages and conditions,\nand have been the recipient of many strange and startling confidences of\nmen and women whose integrity has never been questioned, and yet who, if\ntheir inner life were known, would have been execrated and ostracized.\n\nAs a result of these varied experiences and the knowledge that has come\nto me I am compelled to assert that I believe our present system of\ntreatment of wrong-doers is not only unchristian but unwise and foolish,\nand that it fosters and cherishes some of the very wrongs we seek to\nprevent.\n\nThe attitude we take--that every evil doer loves his evil doing, sins\nbecause he wants to sin, is a criminal for his own pleasure--is absurd\nand foolish. And what wicked cruelties such an attitude leads us to\ncommit. Socrates saw clearer than that centuries ago when he said: \"It\nis strange that you should not be angry when you meet a man with an\nill-conditioned body, and yet be vexed when you encounter one with an\nill-conditioned soul!\"\n\nMost of us have a lot of maxims or rules that we apply to those\nwrong-doers who come under our ken, forgetful of the fact that the\nstrange thing about human nature is that it doesn't fit your, or my, or\nany one's ideas or notions. It cannot be bounded, as you bound a sea or\nan island. It cannot be plotted or catalogued as you plot a lawn or\ncatalogue a library. The only way you can read men and women is with\nsympathy and love--sympathy for their failures to measure up to your\nconceptions of manhood and womanhood; love for the undoubted good that\nyou perceive.\n\nAll moral judgments must remain false and hollow that are not checked\nand enlightened by a perpetual reference to the special circumstances\nthat mark the individual lot.\n\nChrist did not in the least abrogate the Seventh Commandment when he\nsaid to the woman _taken in the act_ of adultery: \"I do not condemn\nthee. Go and sin no more.\" In my opinion He wished to teach the lesson\nthat the self-righteousness and hypocrisy of her accusers were also\ncrimes.\n\nAll men that are drunkards are not equally culpable, deserving of\nhell-fire and to be swept there by quoting the Hebrew scriptures: \"No\ndrunkard shall inherit eternal life.\" The special circumstances must be\nconsidered, and God only is competent to do this. Whenever I hear these\nready quotations, whenever I am tempted to use them in my dealings with\nmy erring fellow-men and women I recall what George Eliot wrote in _The\nMill on the Floss_.\n\n    All people of broad, strong sense have an instinctive repugnance to\n    the men of maxims; because such people early discern that the\n    mysterious complexity of our life is not to be embraced by maxims,\n    and that to lace ourselves up in formulas of that sort is to repress\n    all the divine promptings and inspirations that spring from growing\n    insight and sympathy. And the man of maxims is the popular\n    representative of the minds that are guided in their moral judgment\n    safely by general rules, thinking that these will lead them to\n    justice by a ready-made patent method, without the trouble of\n    exerting patience, discrimination, impartiality,--without any care\n    to assure themselves whether they have the insight that comes from a\n    hardly earned estimate of temptation, or from a life vivid and\n    intense enough to have created a wide fellow-feeling with all that\n    is human.\n\nThe true brotherhood of man is that which takes upon itself all the\nweaknesses, all the burdens, all the woes, all the sins of the world of\nmen and women. This is what Christ did! Ah, that we might perceive and\nrealize it! This is what makes Walt Whitman so great a poet,--that he\ntries to teach us this lesson. This is what gave to Ernest Crosby his\npower, gave to Golden Rule Jones his influence. They felt the\nbrotherhood, truly, really, deeply, even though imperfectly. Christ felt\nit perfectly. Can we not try to feel it? Whenever we behold sin in\nothers it behooves us to remember that Paul said, \"_All_ have sinned and\ncome short of the glory of God,\" and that whenever we condemn sin in\nanother we condemn some sin in ourselves. We are all sinners in some way\nor another. There are those who feel the oneness of human relationship\nso keenly that they have declared that when another did a wrong they\nfelt it as if it were their own personal act. While I have not yet come\nto so close a recognition of my brotherhood to all men and women as\nthat, I can deeply sympathize with the feeling. We all know how a\nbrother feels if one of his own family--sister or brother--\"goes wrong.\"\nHe is grieved and disgraced. A burden is placed upon him. When we fully\nrecognize the brotherhood we owe to all men and women I doubt not we\nshall then feel this personal sorrow and disgrace, which will lead us to\nseek our brother's speedy reclamation, with helpful sympathy and loving\nencouragement.\n\nOnly those touched with the essential spirit of the love that belongs to\nthe Divine, or those who have sinned much, can know the great secret of\nhuman tenderness and long suffering towards the wrong doer that alone,\n_at times_, can help him. Oh for more of this human tenderness and\nsympathy, this long suffering and patience, this active principle of\nDivine Love that burns through all crusts and coatings of evil into the\nmost secret corners of the heart where the good is enshrined, though\nforgotten.\n\nI have just been talking with a prominent editor about a man in his\noffice, competent, thorough, reliable, manly, a systematic worker and\nable to get the best results out of those in his department, yet who,\nonce in a while, goes off on a terrible debauch. He will drink up all\nthe money at hand, then draw out whatever he has saved in the bank\n(sometimes nearly a thousand dollars), engage an automobile, surround\nhimself with dissolute companions, squander his money on them, then\nborrow from his friends, who, knowing that when sober he will pay back\nevery cent, cruelly lend it to him, and thus \"go the pace\" until either\nmoney gives out, or physical endurance can no longer stand the strain.\nThen his true friends come and pick him up out of the gutter, or care\nfor him in a hospital until he recovers.\n\nAs soon as he is sane and sober again he is overwhelmed with remorse and\nsorrow. He knows that he is ruining himself in every way and from every\npossible standpoint, yet there is that in him that seems to render him\nincapable of resisting these temptations to periodical sprees. He\nlistens with true penitence to the cautions of his employers, his\nfellow workers, and to the heart-broken pleadings of his aged mother who\nfairly idolizes him--still he drinks.\n\nWhat shall I radiate to such a man--to all such men? Can I ignore the\ndegradation of their debauchery? Certainly not! Can I ignore the fact\nthat, as a rule, when the downward path is once begun, the sober\nintervals grow shorter after each debauch, and that by radiating\nfriendliness to such a man I am tying myself to one who will ultimately\ndisgrace himself and me? Shall I cease to be his friend, in order to\nprotect myself?\n\nGod forbid! To radiate friendliness is not enough. Seek to possess more\nthan this, that you may radiate more. Greater than friendship is love.\nLove your friend as yourself. He is having a desperate struggle. Give\nhim your love, your thoughtful, considerate, protective love. If\nnecessary treat him as you would an insane person, for the highest\nmedical experts now concede that \"while alcoholic excess is a prolific\nsource of disease and mental instability, _disease and mental\ninstability are even more provocative of the alcoholic habit_.\" The\ngreatest possible kindness to such an one would be to lovingly,\ntenderly, sympathetically _lock him up_. The insane man must be kept\nfrom doing himself and others an injury. Society must protect itself\nfrom the evil doer, regardless of his moral responsibility, but the\n\"how\" of that protection is one of the most important things in the\ndevelopment of the human race. As we now protect ourselves we show the\nbarbarity of the aborigine, the cruel vindictiveness of the savage.\n\nI am fully satisfied that the time will come when we shall so radiate\nChristian love one to another, and especially to our weaker brothers and\nsisters--whether their weaknesses manifest themselves in alcoholic\nexcess, sexual sins, gambling, theft, drug-manias, or any other form of\nwrong-doing--that we shall prepare for them places where they may be\nproperly cared for, and especially whenever they fear they are in danger\nof succumbing to their weaknesses. This method would not apply to those\nwho are so enthralled by sin that they think they find great pleasure in\nthe gross gratification of the senses, for such are doomed to suffer\nuntil they are forced to see their errors and turn from them with\nloathing, but there are others who are unwilling victims to appetite and\nevil habits. The burdens which weak humanity carries are many and\ncomplex, and sometimes even mysterious. It is known to the medical world\nthat many wrong deeds and even serious crimes are committed by men and\nwomen under temporary abnormal mental conditions. In Scriptural times\ndoubtless it would have been said that they were possessed with demons,\nbut the modern expert calls such conditions _manias_ of various kinds.\nWhatever the subtle cause of this species of insanity, it is generally\nadmitted that the attacks are of a periodical nature, and that during\nthe intervals the victims conduct themselves in accordance with ordinary\nstandards. Condemnation and ostracism cannot remedy such evils, but true\nChristianity should prompt a method of treatment that will encourage and\nsustain rather than induce despair. Even ordinary so-called \"sinners\"\nare not reclaimed by avoiding them utterly. Those who go down into the\nslums and plague-spots of our cities would never rescue any of the\n\"perishing\" if they went grudgingly, and holding themselves daintily\naloof in self-righteous superiority. No, they brave the pestilential\nradiation in perfect safety and carry hope to the fallen because they\npossess the mind of Christ, which is purity and love. This does not\nalter the fact that the pure and good naturally shrink from depravity\nand degradation, nor that it is expedient to protect the ignorant and\ninnocent from association with those who radiate impurity, oftentimes,\nbut since it is well known that society contains many men and some women\nwhose private lives would not stand publicity, the only safeguard is to\nbe fortified within with that purity and goodness which involuntarily\nresists evil and imparts good.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE RADIANCIES OF TOLERATION\n\n\nI want to radiate my conception of what, in religion, is commonly termed\n\"toleration.\" To me the term is a misnomer. Its use is based upon a\ngross and small-minded misunderstanding of the right, inherent to each\nhuman being, to live according to the dictates of his own conscience in\nall things that do not militate against what the majority conceive to be\nthe public good.\n\nWhat is religion? My own definition is that _it is the highest within\nmyself reaching out to the highest I can see or conceive outside of\nmyself_. In this \"reaching out,\" this \"following after,\" or\n\"apprehending,\" as St. Paul calls it, I alone must determine that which\nI will seek for. Others may aid me in my search, others may point out to\nme and for me that which they have reached, or are striving to reach,\nand in that way they may aid and help me. But for another to say,\n\"_This_ is that alone for which you should strive,\" or \"That is the\nsupreme end of all effort,\" and to refuse me any right of appeal to my\nown judgment is to stultify my own God-given powers and to make a mere\npuppet of me. Hence I stand, or fall, on the platform of individualism\nin religion. I affirm that it is a purely personal matter, that there\ncan be no coercion, no forcing of any individual to adopt a _general_\nplan which another individual asserts that all must follow to their\neternal well-being, or disregard to their own damnation.\n\nThe attitude I would radiate is this. For myself I know, or am learning,\nwhat I must believe, what I must strive for, what I must seek to become.\nSo long as this belief, this striving, this aim, does not interfere with\nthe exercise of the belief, the striving, the aim of others, and is not\nsubversive of the public good, I demand my inherent right of individual\nbelief, individual striving, individual aim. When one who differs from\nme offers me his \"charity,\" or his \"toleration,\" I regard his offer as\nan insolence and small-minded impertinence. I want no charity, I refuse\nall toleration, for I own as many inherent rights as the one who thus\npresumes to offer me his charity and his tolerance. He needs my charity\nand tolerance to cover his individualism as much as I need his. I have\nas much right to offer mine to him as he to offer his to me. Hence,\nboldly, fearlessly, restful in my God-given right, I believe, I strive,\nI aim to reach God as best I may. But in the very self-assertiveness of\nthis right it is an essential condition of my perfect freedom that I\nabsolutely accord it to all others, no matter how diverse from mine\ntheir beliefs, their strivings, their aims. There must be no mental\nreservations, no subterfuges, no playing with one's own intellect or\nconscience. The freedom to others must be as large and complete as the\nfreedom I demand for myself, for, wherein I limit, even in my most\nsecret mind and heart, the freedom of my neighbor, I am giving to him\nthe right to limit me. \"With what measure ye mete it shall be measured\nto you again.\"\n\nI resent any interference with my right to believe as I choose. My\nfriends, G---- and S----, are Catholics. In the exercise of their\nGod-given right they accept a different faith from mine. They are\nequally earnest, equally intelligent, equally sincere in their\nprofession of faith as am I. Just as I resent any interference with my\nown right to believe as I choose, so do I resent, with equal, and even\nstronger fervor, any interference with G----'s and S----'s rights to\nbelieve as they choose.\n\nI say with \"even stronger fervor.\" You may ask, \"Why with stronger\nfervor?\" The reason is this. I find, within my own soul, a greater\nreadiness to demand freedom for myself than I do to accord it to those\nwho differ from me. Hence honor demands that I watch with even closer\nscrutiny the rights of my neighbors than I guard against encroachments\nupon my own. Selfishness will care for my own. Indifference to my\nneighbors _may_ lead me to be careless of theirs.\n\nOther neighbors, P---- and X----, are Christian Scientists; still\nothers, A---- and J----, are Unitarians; others, D---- and C----, are\nUniversalists; and I have friends, dear to my heart, whom I love with\ntrue, pure fervor and who, I am assured, love me with an equal\nsincerity, who are Jews, Hopis, Wallapais, Havasupais, Apaches, Greeks,\nMohammedans, Hindoos, Theosophists, Spiritualists, Atheists, Shakers,\nAgnostics, Communists, and Mormons. Take these beliefs and non-beliefs\nwith the one I profess and the others I have referred to, and there is\nas perfect a hodge-podge of diversities and differences as one can\npossibly imagine. Do I attempt to reconcile them? No! Do I agree with\nthem all? No! Can I harmonize them all? No! It is neither my business to\nreconcile them, agree with them, nor harmonize them. I am not sent to\nearth to make all men's minds and souls alike, any more than Burbank is\nsent to make all flowers and plants, shrubs and trees alike. My business\nis to develop and live my own life, in harmony with my own beliefs,\naims, and strivings, to the utmost, and seek the utmost good for my\nfellow. And in no way can I better do that than by aiding him to live\nhis highest beliefs to the utmost, helping him in his strivings, make\nclearer to him the beauty of his own aims. Hence, even as I want all\ngood men and true to bid me a hearty, an earnest, a sincere \"God-speed!\"\nin my own strivings, so do I, with all my heart, bid my many and\ndiverse-believing, diverse-aiming friends God-speed in their endeavors.\n\nIf, for the public good, I should ever be called upon to pass judgment\nupon any of the actions that are the result of the beliefs of my\nneighbors and friends, and I, with my fellow jurors, deemed these\nactions subversive of the public good, I could unite with my fellows in\nsuppressing these actions. But this would be done with a perfectly open\nheart, without malice, without censure even, without any presumption,\nwithout any interference with the _principle_ I have sought clearly to\nstate and exemplify. It would be done as the result of our united\njudgment upon a matter of public policy--not a fixed, established\nassurance of right or wrong, but as a matter wherein, for the benefit of\nothers, we regarded the restriction of an inherent and God-given freedom\na justifiable act.\n\nHerein, to my mind, lies the power of the argument of the political\nprohibitionists. They seek to prohibit men from the exercise of their\nundoubted right to manufacture and sell alcoholic stimulants--their\nundoubted right provided it could be done without injury to the bodies\nand souls of their fellow-beings. No one can claim an inherent right to\ninjure his neighbor willfully and deliberately. No one can claim a\nGod-given right to transgress God's own laws. Those who believe in God\nbelieve He has ordained laws for the government of all that He has\ncreated. The interpretation of the \"moral law\" as handed down to us in\nthe Scriptures is, in the main, similar in all creeds in Christendom,\nand practically the same among all who, without so-called creeds,\nbelieve in the brotherhood of man.\n\nUpon those points wherein men have conscientiously differed there have\nbeen instances where the ruling majority has restricted or taken away\nthe rights of the minority to put their beliefs into practice, because\nthe consensus of opinion has decided such acts to be contrary to public\npolicy or public good, but it does not necessarily follow that the\ninterference was based upon incontrovertible ideas of right or wrong.\n\nMy contention is that no man or body of men has the inherent right to\ninterfere with the beliefs and acts of their fellow-beings who are\nsincerely and conscientiously seeking to love God with all the heart and\ntheir neighbors as themselves, but in all countries where the majority\nis supposed to rule it is expedient to submit to prevailing customs and\nlaws unless conscience imperatively demands otherwise. In any case,\nhowever, it does not necessarily follow that the majority is always in\nthe right and the minority in the wrong, especially in religious\nmatters.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nOUT OF DOOR RADIANCIES\n\n\nI want to radiate a constant, never-failing love for God's great out of\ndoors at all times, in all seasons, under all conditions, in all moods.\nI want to understand Nature, to be one with her, to feel with her,\nexpand with her, be reserved with her, be exuberant with her. I want to\nrealize and radiate my kinship with everything that exists in Nature; I\nam a part of this great whole, all of which is an expression of a great\nthought of the great God. By making myself a part of Nature I am able to\nmake allies of all the forces of Nature, and this fact I want to radiate\nwith power and emphasis. I would teach both by word, influence, and\nunconscious radiation that we are able to ally ourselves with all the\npowers of God as manifested in the world around us. I have learned that,\nno matter for whom else the sun may shine, it shines expressly for me. I\nwould have you learn that it shines expressly for you. Whatever its\npower it belongs to you. Claim it! And so with all the forces. The winds\nblow for you, the flowers bloom for you, the stars glisten for you, the\nfruits grow for you, the trees clothe themselves in beauty for you, the\nbirds sing for you, the sunsets are glorious for you, and the sunrises\ngild the mountain tops with reddish gold for you, the grass grows for\nyou, the creeks sing, the rivers flow, and the seas roar for you; the\nforces of good are all yours, you are allies with them, and what they\nare you are, what power they possess, you possess.\n\nWhat marvelous vivification comes into the body, mind, and soul of man\nwhen he realizes this stupendous fact. He no longer stands alone on the\nearth. God, to many men and women, is far away, unseen, unknowable, but\nthrough His world in Nature we can touch Him, realize Him, learn to know\nHim, and while we are learning this greatest of great facts we are\nbecoming stronger, more self-reliant, more full of power, more\noptimistic, more sure of our own footing on earth.\n\nA man may not say of a palace, a house, a garden, a yacht, a fortune,\nthis, these, are mine, but we may each and all--the vilest drunkard, the\nmost wretched harlot, the near-suicide, and the nigh-insane, as well as\nthe poverty-stricken and the oppressed--say and know \"the sun is mine,\nthe stars, the rain, the sweetness of the flowers, the blessedness of\nGod's great gift of life. Therefore, I am not poor, I am not forsaken, I\nam not forgotten. I own much. I will take and utilize these for my\neternal blessing.\"\n\nAnd as you utilize what you have you become both capable and worthy of\nlarger things. Only those who use receive more. \"To him that hath shall\nbe given,\" and these are the things that all may have and that bless\nmore abundantly than any other things mankind may possess.\n\nMost of us go through life missing what Nature has for us.\n\nIn one of Sienkiewicz's books he makes one of his characters say of his\nbetrothed,\n\n    I gaze on Nature, too, and feel it; but she shows me things which I\n    should not notice myself. A couple of days ago, we all went into the\n    forest, where she showed me ferns in the sun, for instance. They are\n    so delicate! She taught me also that the trunks of pine-trees,\n    especially in the evening light, have a violet tone. She opens my\n    eyes to colors which I have not seen hitherto, and, like a kind of\n    enchantress going through the forest, discloses new worlds to me.\n\nReread these two sentences: \"She shows me things which I should not\nnotice myself,\" and \"She opens my eyes and discloses new worlds to me.\"\nThe world's beauty is so common to us that we forget it. Nothing is\ncommoner than the stars, yet nothing more mysterious, wonderful, and\nattractive; the grass is so common that we trample it under foot, yet\nits beauty, its varied features will repay long hours of study, and it\nis a joy unspeakable to those who have learned to love it. It is in the\ncommon things that we should look for beauty, for lessons in color, in\nart, in criticism. One of the great students and teachers of art of our\ncountry once wrote a book entitled _The Gate Beautiful_. It was the\nresult of a life of concentrated study upon true art. Whence comes true\nart? What is it? How shall one know it when he sees it? The result of\nall Dr. Stimson's study, placed in that wonderful book, summed up in\nshort is--study Nature, and you will there learn more than all the books\nand teachers of art can tell you in a thousand years. The author shows\nby remarkable illustrations spiral vibrations made by the voice, the\nnatural forms of mineralogy, mechanics, astronomy, seeds, fruit,\nvegetables, fish, reptiles, insects, birds, beasts, flowers, and\nhumanity. He shows the exquisite beauty of snow crystals, and of the\nminute forms of earliest life, found in the diatoms. He sets forth the\nbeauty of leaf and stem in the commonest trees, in shells, etc., until\none wonders where his eyes have been, where his appreciation of beauty,\nin all the years that these things have not appealed to him. Nature is\nso flooded with beauty that more than one lifetime will be necessary for\nany one man to discover the half of it. So because of its beauty I want\nthe men and women who come in contact with me to feel in me a pulsing,\nliving, active, irresistible love for Nature which will draw them out\ninto it; arouse in them an insatiable longing to see and know, to feel\nand comprehend more of the rich beauty so freely exposed out of doors.\n\nThe out-of-doors, too, is full of beauty of color as well as beauty in\nform. Oh, the sunrises and sunsets at sea, and on the desert, and in the\ncanyons, and on the mountain heights, and on the great plains of Arizona\nand New Mexico and Utah. What colorist of earth can ever equal them?\nTitian? Tintoretto? Velasquez? Turner? La Farge? Reid? Why waste words\nasking the questions? How tame is Titian's greatest color-effects side\nby side with a sunrise on the ocean, or a sunset on the desert!\nBostonians are proud of Reid's magnificent paintings in the State House.\nI enjoy them myself and do not wonder that visitors are struck by the\npowerful color-handling of the interesting historical subjects. But Mr.\nReid himself is not so foolish as to imagine that his greatest paintings\nare more than futile attempts to put on canvas the colors his eyes have\nseen, his soul has felt, out in the open. So, for color I would radiate\na love for out-of-doors.\n\nAnd I would radiate a love for all of out-of-doors at all times. Winter,\nSummer, Spring, Autumn, in rain and sunshine, in storm and calm, there\nis something in every condition, every mood for the men and women who\nare receptive. When I see newly born infants shut out from the pure\nair, their faces covered, \"lest they take cold,\" I am filled with\namazement at people's fear of out-of-doors. My babies were put to sleep\nout-of-doors half an hour after they were born. The latest and most\napproved methods of treating tuberculosis is to make those afflicted\nwith it sleep out of doors. There are camps in Michigan and in the snowy\nregions of New York, in the Adirondacks, where, throughout the Winter,\npatients sleep out of doors with the best of results. Be not afraid. Go\nout of doors as does the Indian. Learn of him and be wise. He is a\nbeliever in the virtue of the outdoor life, not as an occasional thing,\nbut as his regular, uniform habit. He _lives_ out of doors; and not only\ndoes his body remain in the open, but his mind, his soul, are ever also\nthere. Except in the very cold weather his house is free to every breeze\nthat blows. He laughs at \"drafts.\" \"Catching cold\" is something of which\nhe knows absolutely nothing. When he learns of white people shutting\nthemselves up in houses into which the fresh, pure, free air of the\nplains and deserts, often laden with the healthful odors of the pines,\nfirs, and balsams of the forest, cannot come, he shakes his head at the\nfolly, and feels as one would if he saw a man slamming his door in the\nface of his best friend. Virtually he sleeps out of doors, eats out of\ndoors, works out of doors. When the women make their baskets and\npottery, it is always out of doors, and their best beadwork is always\ndone in the open. The men make their bows and arrows, dress their\nbuckskin, make their moccasins and buckskin clothes, and perform nearly\nall their ceremonials out-of-doors.\n\nI wish I could radiate to every human soul what I mean by having one's\nmind, one's soul, live in the open. Words fail to convey what I mean.\nThe sense of largeness, of expansion, of breadth, depth, width, and\nheight are as tangible in soul-results as in those of body. None can\nlive in the open all the time and become sordid money-grubbers. If they\nare to become rich they do it in a large, expansive, virile way that\ncommands respect. It is only the shut-in man that can add to his\nmillions by cheese-paring methods, by grinding the face of the poor, by\ncounting up cents and nickels and dimes wrung from the labor of the\nchildren of the poor.\n\nRead these lines from a wonderful poem of the out-of-doors by Edwin\nMarkham, and see how much you can make it mean to yourself:\n\n    I ride on the mountain tops, I ride;\n    I have found my life and am satisfied.\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    I ride on the hills, I forgive, I forget\n      Life's hoard of regret--\n      All the terror and pain\n      Of the chafing chain.\n      Grind on, O cities, grind;\n      I leave you a blur behind.\n    I am lifted elate--the skies expand;\n    Here the world's heaped gold is a pile of sand.\n    Let them weary and work in their narrow walls;\n    I ride with the voices of waterfalls!\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    I swing on as one in a dream--I swing\n    Down the airy hollows, I shout, I sing!\n    The world is gone like an empty word!\n    My body's a bough in the wind, my heart a bird!\n\nNever in a thousand years can one get such pure, sweet, pulsing, living\nand stay-long-with-you delights as these, in a city. Granted there are\npleasures in the ballroom, and they are doubtless great, but can they\nbegin to compare with the delights of out-of-doors? Languor next day,\nennui, jealousies, heart-burnings, gossiping, cruel slandering,\nruination of health, too often come with these city pleasures. Then,\ntoo, the ballroom in its desirable form is only for the rich, while the\npoor may enjoy everything good of the great out-of-doors. The city has\nits theaters, operas, concerts, lectures, and the like, but they are\ngenerally at night, compelling people to be out when they should be in\nbed, turning day into night, and reversing the natural order of things.\nAnd the artificial is never equal to the real, the unnatural to the\nnatural.\n\nThen, too, the out-of-doors is such a teacher; and not a teacher of the\narid, formal, dry, embalmed knowledge, but the real living facts. As\nRobert Louis, the well-beloved, says:\n\n    There is certainly some chill and arid knowledge to be found upon\n    the summits of formal and laborious science, but it is all round\n    about you, and for the trouble of looking, that you will acquire the\n    warm and palpitating facts of life.\n\nBook knowledge can never equal living knowledge. He whose mind is stored\nwith what he has read too often only thinks he knows, while the one\nwhose facts are gained at first hand from the real objects themselves\nknows that he knows. A man in a factory as a rule, in these days of\nspecialization, is only a cog in a wheel, a part of a great machine. Be\nhe a woodworker, he does not make any complete piece of furniture. He\nsaws on one part; another on another; a third on still another; a\nfourth, who knows nothing of shaping the parts, assembles the whole, and\na fifth puts them together; a sixth sandpapers; a seventh stains or\nvarnishes; and an eighth polishes and finishes. So with watchmaking and\neverything used by human hands. Nobody, nowadays, has the joy of \"doing\nit all.\"\n\nBut in the country a man plows, harrows, sows the seed and cultivates,\nand during it all he is in the open, seeing all the wonderful phenomena\nof Nature pass before him in everchanging panorama each hour. That is,\nof course, providing he has not been ground down by too many hours of\nhard physical labor until he has become a mere \"brother to the ox,\" and\nthe stolid and stunned creature so powerfully described by Edwin Markham\nin his _Man with the Hoe_.\n\nEvery man needs something both of the city and the country. Rubbing up\nagainst his kind sharpens his wits; often makes him more selfish and\nindifferent to the rights and needs of others; and again prepares him\nmore thoroughly to enjoy what the country offers. So, city man, with all\nyour senses sharpened by contact with mankind, go out into the country\nto get your soul enlarged. For Nature is the great soul expander.\n\nRead John Muir's _Mountains of California_, and see how the\nout-door-life enlarged him, made him bigger, grander, nobler than he\ncould ever have been had he stayed in the narrow confines of a city's\nwalls. In one chapter he tells of his experience in a storm in a Sierra\nforest. Perched high on the mountains a great storm swept over the\nrange. Most men would have remained indoors, afraid of the fierceness of\nthe wind and the beating of the rain. Not so he! There were experiences\nto be had out there that could come to him in no other way; so out he\nwent. After scrambling through underbrush, climbing hilly slopes, until\nhis blood was fairly a-tingle in response to the power of the storm,\nwatching the swaying of the trees, hearing the crash, every few\nmoments, of a falling tree, he finally decided to see the whole thing\nfrom the top of a tree. So selecting a suitable tree he climbed to its\ntopmost branches, and there, swaying to and fro like \"a bobolink on a\nreed,\" he watched the wind playing with the gigantic trees and the tiny\nleaves, and listened to such an \u00e6olian concert as few men have ever\ndreamed of.\n\nJohn Muir's experiences and development are not peculiar to him. Most\nmen who live the larger out-of-door life, who engage in out-of-door\noccupations have a largeness and expansion about them that is\nstimulating and inspiring. Read the life of the fishermen--the\nGloucester Folk, and the Folk of all the shores of the sea, who gain\ntheir livelihood by battling with storms and circumventing them. What\nbrawny arms and shoulders and backs; what tremendous power; what deep\nbreaths in powerful lungs! See the pilots who come out to meet the\ntransoceanic steamers; what brave, powerful, massive men they are!\nOrdinary men are dwarfed in their presence--not merely physically, but\nmentally and spiritually. See the captains of these same great steamers,\nand all sea-going vessels, and the very sailors; there is a strength of\nbody and a largeness, an openness of disposition, that is good to come\nin contact with. Who that has climbed the Swiss mountains with an\nAlpine guide but has felt the strength and power developed by ages of\nconflict with snowstorms, avalanches, and other great Nature forces.\nEven the loggers in the forest swing their axes or handle the huge logs\nwith an ease and power that stagger the ordinary city man. Think how the\nold time stage-drivers used to handle their six- and eight-horse teams\nwith ease and elegance, guiding and directing their movements as\ngracefully as a _grande dame_ promenades in her ballroom. Who has not\nbeen thrilled with the doings of the live-saving service, and the\nlighthouse keepers? What city girl could have dared do as did Grace\nDarling, the lighthouse keeper's daughter, who insisted upon her father\nrowing with her to rescue a shipwrecked crew in the face of a howling\nstorm? What delights I myself have enjoyed out on the plains, prairies,\nand foot-hills, riding with the cowboys. Well do I remember several\n_rodeos_ I united with in Nevada, where we rode madly after the wild\ncattle and horses, over and through the sagebrush at break-neck speed,\nnow dodging to the right, now to the left, now jumping a piece of brush\nthat could not be dodged. We went up hill like the wind, and then\nstarted down hill at equal or greater speed, and once, getting into a\ngrove of trees, I had to learn to bend down flat on the horse's back to\navoid being swept off. \"Let your horse go where he will. He understands\nhis business, and you don't,\" were the instructions I had received, and\nwell it was that I was not required to guide my animal. I had enough to\ndo to keep my seat. Talk about rough-riders! I was soon a rough-rider,\nindeed. And how tired out and weary I was that night, but how I slept! I\nhad been dyspeptic, sleepless, and an\u00e6mic. Three weeks of this shook me\nup so that my liver worked as it had never worked in my history before.\nI got until I could eat and digest anything, and my sleep was sweet,\nsound, dreamless, and refreshing. Would that I had had sense enough then\nand there to resign the pastorate of my church; quit being an\nindifferent and unhealthy parson; become a cowboy and gain health, vim,\nvigor, strength, life.\n\nI suppose I had to come to it slowly, but come I did to the most\nimportant facts, viz.: that I could never be healthy indoors, and that I\nmust live in the open. And as I got out more my intellect and spirit\nexpanded as my body grew healthier, and I began to learn more from the\nobjects around me than I had from all my schooling, all my books, and\nall my theological training and study.\n\nNowadays there is no out-of-door occupation that does not appeal to me;\na ditch-digger, a navvy on a railroad, a roustabout on a dock, a\ndeck-hand on a steamer, a brakeman, a road mender, a plowman, a carter,\na teamster--even these, the lowliest of the out-of-door callings, show\nto me men of rugged strength that delight and appeal to me.\n\nHow one's very soul thrills in sympathy as he thinks of the marvelous\nachievements of the great explorers--all of them men of the\nout-of-doors; Columbus, Magellan, Capt. Cook, Kane, Sir John Franklin,\nPeary, Sven Hedin, Capt. Burnaby, Burton, Livingstone, Stanley, Major\nPowell, and a host of others. How the mere thought of them and their\nlives radiates the very spirit of energy, strength, courage, daring,\nindependence, self-reliance! In their physical or spiritual presence you\nfeel you are in contact with an entirely different set of earth's\nmortals than ordinary men, for they radiate unconsciously the largeness,\nthe expansiveness, the majesty and strength of the vast out-of-doors.\n\nRudyard Kipling in his _Captains Courageous_ fully explains what I mean\nabout this largeness and nobleness of soul that come from the\nout-of-door life, in telling of the fishermen of the New England coast.\nIn his vivid English he pictures their daily life, what their work is,\nhow they have to brave the perils of the deep, the dangerous fogs, the\nuncertain storms, the sudden death that comes when a great vessel looms\nthrough the fog and cuts them down. Yet they go ahead as a matter of\ncourse. Their life enlarges their faith and trust; either it is that or\nthey become used to looking in the face of danger and death and then\ncalmly continue in their work. No man does this without deepening and\nbroadening his life.\n\nWhen it comes to gardeners I fairly envy them. Think of the wondrous\nlife that is theirs. To learn and know the life-habits of plants and\nflowers, and to see them growing from tiny seeds, or slips, or cuttings\ninto all their rich and perfect beauty. I never knew a despondent\ngardener. His profession forbids it; his experience rebukes it. So of\nlate years, in my crude way, I have been trying to become a gardener,\nwhen I am at home and have time.\n\nWhat an unspeakable joy there is in all this work. How it occupies one's\nbrain and body, and drives away all despondency, care, blue-devils, and\nworry. Out in the garden I am a king, a proud monarch, robed in blue\nflannel shirt and overalls, my scepter a spade, and my right to rule\ndemonstrable by my strong muscles, steady nerves, strong lungs, healthy\nskin, and clear eyes. Who would not reign in such a realm?\n\nMore than all else I feel when living this life that I am lifted above\nall the petty meannesses of men and women. I am dealing with creative\nforces--things direct from the hands of God--sunshine, air, water, soil,\ngrowth, development, life. And how such feelings expand the soul!\n\nThen I begin to think of the wonderful work in flowers, fruits, and\nplants performed by Hugo de Vries and our own Luther Burbank, and as I\nrecall their achievements I feel the opening up of a new realm before\nme. Never can I forget the joy of a couple of days with Burbank at his\nhome at Santa Rosa, and his \"proving grounds,\" at Sebastopol. I there\nsaw his winter rhubarb, and as we walked along we came to his cactus\npatch. The first section was of the rude, prickly leaves I was so\nfamiliar with on the desert; the next section less prickly and so on,\nuntil at last, with a frolic, Mr. Burbank \"dived\" into the cactus,\nrubbed his face and ears against the great leaves and demonstrated them\nfree from every vestige of a thorn.\n\nThen we saw flowers that he had completely changed, in size, color,\nform, and odor, and when you ask how it was all done he declares that\nany man or woman with the necessary patience and skill (and skill comes\nwith patience) can produce results as apparently marvelous as his own.\nFor the marvel is apparent and not real; it is nothing but the\nunderstanding and application of natural laws; laws that Darwin and\nothers have well understood and enunciated.\n\nAt Sebastopol I had the joy of seeing him work in the selection of plum\ntrees. Row after row of young bearing plum trees stood before us. With\ntwo men following him, one with black strings, and the other with white,\nhe began. Picking a plum from the first tree, he bit into it. I did\nlikewise. To me it seemed a good plum. He rapidly commented upon: 1, its\nappearance, shape, etc.; 2, color; 3, firmness of texture; 4, flavor; 5,\nsweetness. Then he did the same with the tree: its extent of foliage,\nshapeliness, etc. All these things had to be considered. The first few\ntrees he took very slowly and deliberately in order that I might clearly\ncomprehend what he was after. Then, almost as quickly as his eye fell\nupon a tree, he had put his teeth into the fruit, his trained intellect\nhad decided whether the tree was worth keeping or killing, and as he\nsaid \"keep\" or \"kill,\" the attendants tied on the corresponding white or\nblack strings. To produce the plum he wanted he assured me he has\ndestroyed over a million trees.\n\nHis apple trees are perfect marvels. Some of them bear upwards of two\nhundred different kinds of apples, and he says it is comparatively easy\nto produce an apple of any color, texture, size, flavor, and sweetness\ndesired.\n\nThink what Nature has taught to such a man. He is not what you would\ncall a supereducated man in books; but he has read Nature as few men in\nthe history of the world have done, and she has revealed many of her\nmost intimate secrets to him. And as you talk with him you find in this\nquiet, unassuming, sweet-spirited, gentle-hearted man a breadth, a\nlargeness, a sweep of soul that are rare.\n\nAnd Nature gives this same largeness to a woman as well as a man. Women\nwho get into the bigness of the out-of-doors get away from feminine\npettinesses just as surely as men do from their narrownesses and\nprejudices. I have two women friends in California (or had, until one\npassed on), both of them expert and scientific florists. One lived at\nSan Buena Ventura, and the other at San Diego. The names of Mrs.\nTheodosia Shepard and Miss Kate Sessions are known throughout the world.\nBoth women determined to devote their lives to a scientific study, _out\nin the garden_, of plant life, and each has therefore done things,\nachieved results that have made her world-famed. How much better this,\nthan to live the narrow, contracted life of most women.\n\nAnother woman friend, Mrs. Sarah Plummer Lemmon, wife of the well-known\nbotanist, and herself a botanist known to the whole scientific world,\nfor years accompanied her husband in his expeditions throughout the\nwildest parts of Arizona, New Mexico, California, and Mexico. I doubt\nwhether there is a person living who has so real and intimate a\nknowledge of all this country as has this brave and intrepid woman, who,\nwhen Apaches were on the warpath, calmly and steadfastly sustained her\nhusband in his scientific work. In storms and perils, in danger from\nwild animals and wilder men, away from all luxuries and comforts and\noften deprived of what most people call necessities, this woman communed\nwith Nature and has thereby grown into a large, commanding, powerful,\nall-embracing soul, as much above the average woman in intellect as an\nathlete is above a baby.\n\nI am no technical botanist, yet I have had pleasure untold when\nwandering in canyon, mountain, plain, forest, seaside, and desert in\nseeking to learn all I could of the flora of the region. When botanists\nsaid that the _cereus giganteus_--the giant suahuaro--was not to be\nfound in California and I knew I had seen it growing on the California\nside of the Colorado River, there was great pleasure in photographing\nthe few specimens I knew in this habitat and then in hunting for more.\nHow well I remember one day climbing up hill and down, over rocky ridges\nand dangerous trails and places where there were no trails at all, every\nnow and again seeing fresh specimens, _in California_, of this cactus\n\"that did not grow in California.\" And when, at last, I stood on a\nridge, looking down into a secluded canyon, where there were a dozen or\nmore (which I photographed), I felt as if, humbly though it was, I were\nbeing used as an instrument for increasing the botanical knowledge of\nthe world.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nRADIANCIES OF JOY, INSPIRATION, AND SERENITY\n\n\nI want to radiate the healthfulness of joy. Joy is the sunshine of the\nsoul. Let it shine. If there is so much of it that it fills the soul, it\nmakes of it a luminous body that must radiate light and warmth and\nhealth to others. The joyous man is the healthy man, and he that has\nhealth should joy to give it to others, whenever and wherever he can. My\nfriend, Marshall P. Wilder, was a radiating center of joy as well as\nfun. He was funny, but he was more--he was joyous. There was no enmity,\nno malice, no unkindness, no cruelty in his fun; it was all healthful,\nkind, sane, and joyous.\n\nA little girl once said of a certain man: \"I like that man because he\nalways _shines_ at me.\" Don't you want to shine and make glad the\ninnocent heart of a child, the striving heart of the young, the\nsorrowful and vexed heart of the middle-aged, and the weary heart of the\nold? Well did Robert Louis Stevenson say:\n\n    A happy man or woman is a better thing to find than a five-pound\n    note. He or she is a radiating focus of good will; and their\n    entrance into a room is as though another candle had been lighted.\n\n    There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. By\n    being happy, we sow anonymous benefits upon the world, which remain\n    unknown even to ourselves, or when they are disclosed, surprise\n    nobody so much as the benefactor.\n\nMake the most of your happiness, and the least of your sorrows. Use the\ntelescope at the enlarging end for the former and at the reducing end\nfor the latter, until you have learned what most of us have to\n_learn_--how foolish and wrong it is to make our joys mere _incidents_\nwhile we make our sorrows _events_.\n\nI want to radiate a joy in the little things of to-day. Most people live\nin anticipation. The things of to-day are not enough. It is, \"Oh,\ntomorrow--next week--next year--will surely bring me my heart's desire!\"\nLet us learn that _to-day_ is the fulfillment of the heart's desire.\nTake to-day _all_ it brings, and it will make _to-day_ so full that you\nwill have no care for the joys of anticipation. Live _now_, so\nintensely, so fully, that life _to-day_ will be compelled to deliver up\nall its treasures _to-day_. Hence every day becomes a perfect joy.\n\nI want to radiate _inspiration_. I do not believe the idea that the\nsaints of old who wrote \"the Bible,\" are the only examples of\ninspiration. God inspires every good man and good woman, and all good\nin all people comes from Him, for He is the original source.\n\nA self-centered life is a selfish life; a life that gives of itself\nfreely and fully to all with whom it comes in contact is a life of\ninspiration--it is a radiating center of inspiration. It inspires to\ncourage, to higher endeavor, to larger achievement. I need all this for\nmyself, but I also long and desire to inspire it in others. Many a life\nseems to have inspiration for the carrying out of its own dreams,\nambitions, desires, but none to give away. Yet the lives we touch may\nneed just the impetus, the propelling force--light or vigorous--that we\ncan give to enable the fulfillment in them of half dormant ambitions for\ngood, the attainment of noble endeavor.\n\nWhat would become of the chick in the egg if the mother hen did not\nbrood over it? She forgets her own desires to move about in the stronger\ndesire to bring into active being the hidden lives within the eggs. Let\nus \"brood\" over the souls of men and women, young men and maidens, boys\nand girls, and quicken to life the dormant powers of the weak, the\ntender. Aspirations may have begun in them that can only be quickened by\nwarmth and love from outside. Oh, for wisdom, as well as love, to\n\"brood\" aright.\n\nThis implies a reaching out to others. It means an ability to feel even\nthe hidden or only half-felt thoughts of others, and love and sympathy\nalone are delicate enough instruments to thus feel. The seismograph,\nthat registers the oscillations of the earth's crust, is one of the most\ndelicate of man-made instruments, yet the human heart that would respond\nunerringly to every beginning of aspiration and longing for good in\nevery other human soul must be ten thousand times more sensitive than\nthe seismograph. Such a sensitive instrument let each seek to become. We\nshould hear the faintest beat of the human hearts near us and try to\ninspire those faint beats until they are strong, regular, powerful,\ncertain.\n\nLives often possess, unknown to themselves, the germ cells of great\npowers and lofty ambitions that will never be developed unless some\noutside influence impregnates and vivifies them into existence. With\nthousands of people the seeds of good in their souls need to be\nquickened from the outside, and the help, the food, the desire to feed,\nmust also be given from the outside, until they are born and nurtured\ninto active, self-reliant existence. To be this outside quickening power\nis to be a radiant source of inspiration.\n\nIn this connection I have found that every life that is growing,\nexpanding, enlarging, is a stimulation to every other life to grow,\nexpand, enlarge. I seek, therefore, to radiate growth by my own growth.\nBy _being_ something, _doing_ something, I want to help others _be_ and\n_do_. Growth is the most natural thing in the world, but unfortunately,\nmen and women are far from being natural. How then can I best radiate\nthe inspiration for growth in them? By being natural myself--throwing\noff the artificialities, the restricting and restraining bands that\nprevent the best of myself from coming forth--by being real. This\ndemands that I think for myself, that I decide for myself, that I act\nfor myself. Once get into this habit and growth is certain and sure. The\nstorms may beat upon such a life but, like the sturdy oak, it is\nthrusting its roots deeper into the soil in every direction--it is\nliving for itself--and storms and tempests only make it the more sturdy\nand strong. This, in its turn, quickens other lives to growth, to\nself-thought, self-decision, self-action. Too long the leaders have\ntried to lull the power of thought in the masses. The church has said:\n\"We will think for you on matters of religion. Accept what we teach or\nyour immortal souls will be imperiled.\" The bar and bench have said: \"In\nmatters of law we will decide what you must think and do. If you differ\nfrom us your acts will be illegal.\" The colleges of physicians and\nsurgeons have said: \"We will think for you in matters of health. If you\ndiffer from us your bodies will become diseased and die.\" The schools\nand universities have said about everything: \"Think as we teach you,\nfor we have all knowledge and wisdom, and knowledge will die with us,\"\nand the result is that to find a being who _dares_ to think and decide\nand act upon his own thoughts is as rare almost as to find a dodo.\nThought is for you; growth is for you as well as for all the universe of\nGod. Teach yourself to think for yourself as naturally and unconsciously\nas you breathe for yourself. Once and forever rise up in your manhood,\nor your womanhood, and say: \"Henceforth I will think, and decide, and\nact for myself without reference to what other people think or say or\ndo.\" And then you will begin to grow as you never grew before.\n\nDoubtless at first you will grow \"scraggly,\" and somewhat wild. But time\nand experience will prune you. Better do that than never grow at all. It\nis perfectly true that the way to learn to grow is by growing. We learn\nto do by doing. Do not be afraid to reach out for growth because you\ndon't know how. If you reach out, and grow, you will soon learn the best\nway how.\n\nThere is another view-point to this question of growth. We have within\nourselves the power to quicken or retard our own growth. Too many of us\nare lazy, physically, mentally, spiritually--yes, and cowardly. We don't\nwant the trouble of thinking for ourselves. It requires energy and\ncourage. It is so much easier for some of us to accept, to drift, to\ncast off all responsibility. But growth cannot so come. We must row\nagainst the tide to develop our muscles. If we accept what others say\nand do let it be because our best judgment, after due consideration and\npersonal thought, has decided that it is the wisest and best thing for\nus to do.\n\nThen, too, many of us do not grow because we are content with what we\nhave. The hindrance to life of smug and ignorant contentment, the\ndwarfing power of self-complacent assurance, who can tell? This must be\nshaken out of every mortal before he can grow, and this spirit is by no\nmeans found in the ignorant and uneducated alone. Boston and New York,\nChicago and Minneapolis, are as full of it as Podunk and Milpitas, Four\nCorners and Snigginsville. Indeed I do not know but that there is more\nof it per capita in the great centers than in the country villages. And\nhow it retards growth. The complacent, correctly worded and phrased\nBostonian, the haughty and self-assertive, successful New Yorker, is\neach assured that he has all there is of good to have, and that no good\nthing can come out of any other place than his. Yet God made other\nplaces and speaks to other people, and all should be humble and learn,\nreverent and grow.\n\nSome do not grow because, having something, they are either too\nindifferent, too lazy, too cowardly, or too fearful to make extra\nexertion, to reach out after, to strive for more than they already have.\nThe man who hid his talent in a napkin is a type of this class. Let us\narouse from our indifference, our cowardice, our fearfulness, and seek\nto become something larger, better, more useful than hitherto we have\nbeen. To such there is no growing old. Gray hairs may come, wrinkles may\nseam the face, yet the heart is ever nourished from the fountain of\nperpetual youth. The life is ever fresh and full of exuberance, and\ntherefore is a radiating center of youth and energy.\n\nThe older one becomes in years, the greater should become the growth of\nthe mind and the soul.\n\n    Grow old along with me,\n    The best is yet to be;\n\nsaid Rabbi Ben Ezra, and he spoke the truth. What radiating centers of\nspiritual growth in others are old men and old women, who have learned\nthe simple secret of constant growth in themselves, which is the secret\nof perpetual youth.\n\nGrowth means fruitage, growth brings flowers. The fruit and flowers of\nlife that nourish, refresh, and delight others come only to those who\ngrow. Roses always come on the new growth; fruit buds best on the new\nbranches; the best grapes are always on the new stems. And the older the\nbush, the tree, the vine, the more beautiful, the more rare, the more\ndelicate the fruit and flowers.\n\nThe life that is growing is constantly searching for nourishment. The\nleaves of the tree absorb from the sun and the atmosphere, the roots\nfrom the soil. If the sun does not shine directly upon the leaf it\nreaches out, turns around, struggles until it puts itself in proper\nrelation to receive all that the sun has to give. If the root cannot\nreach the nutriment, the moisture, it stretches and grows up, down,\naround, over, under, _through_ obstacles until it gains that which it\nneeds for life and growth.\n\nHuman lives are like trees. They must turn leaves to the sun, send out\nrootlets and tendrils in every direction, for moisture and nourishment,\nsearching until they find, and demanding until they get all they desire.\nAnd the glory of this searching and demanding by the human soul is that\nthere is a whole infinity of space and power, living, palpitant,\nenergized for it to search in. If it search it cannot search in vain. If\nit demand it must receive, and receive abundantly.\n\nAbove _all_ things, and in all things, at all times and under all\ncircumstances I would radiate a calm serenity. There is a rich fullness\nto me that is wonderfully significant in that first line of John\nBurroughs' _Waiting_. Look at it and let it sink in:\n\n                   Serene, I fold my hands and wait.\n\nFew are serene, fewer still can wait. We are all in a hurry, we are all\nimpatient, we are easily ruffled. How rare the man or woman of\nself-poise--the being who has full command of his soul, mind, and body.\nAnger, jealousy, misunderstanding, backbiting, lying, slander, hate,\npraise, blame--all alike have no effect in disturbing the beautiful\ncalmness of the serene of soul, who are affable alike to friend and foe,\nhelpful alike to each, sympathetic alike to each. There is no\nhaughtiness in serenity, as some suppose, though there is much pride.\nYet it is not the pride of conceit, the pride of power, of possession,\nof superiority, but the wholesome, joyous, happy sense of a full-flowing\nlife, every good channel of which is healthily full--healthily flowing\nto healthy ends. _That_, to me, is serenity. The self-consciousness that\n\"all things are working together for good,\" and working to the full.\nThere is no walking delegate to dictate the length of the hours such a\nlife shall work, or live. It lives for the very joy of mere living, and\nliving means working, giving, doing for others, more than for self.\n\nI can see, dream of, long for, anticipate the possession of, some such\nserenity, and my ideal of what it is and my reaching after it is what I\nwould radiate, though as yet I am but as one who seeks after rather than\nas one who has already attained.\n\nPersonally I am naturally the very opposite of serene. Physically I used\nto be easily disturbed. A whisper in an audience of two thousand people\nwould distress me greatly, and render me intensely nervous. I have many\na time \"called people down,\" in my own audiences and by sheer force of\nwill compelled silence, and when at concerts, have asked people (not\nalways either gently or kindly) to cease their rude whisperings, yet, at\nthe same time, I never once lost my calmness, the possession of myself,\nwithout intense annoyance. I longed to be able to suppress the whispers\nwithout a ripple in my own mind or soul, by the sheer force of right,\nkindliness, courtesy, serenity. The more I possess serenity the more I\nshall radiate it. It is a priceless boon, to be desired more than great\nwealth, and, when possessed, to be prized and treasured more than all\nthe jewels of the world.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nRADIANCIES OF THE WILL\n\n\nThere are three things I wish to radiate as to my own will. We speak of\nmen being self-willed, strong-willed, weak-willed, and the like, but at\nthe outset I wish to radiate my desire to be \"Divine-willed.\" By this I\nmean I wish to recognize the world-wide--nay, the\nuniverse-wide--difference between the great, all-powerful, all-wise,\nall-beneficent, all-harmonious _will_ of the Great Creator, and the\noftentimes foolish, weak, wavering, irresponsible, ignorant, mistaken\nwill of the human being. Every real man and woman wishes his, her, life\nto be a useful life, a life that accomplishes something, and that\nsomething must be \"worth while.\" It is essential, however, if one would\naccomplish this that he start right. Now, here is the crucial\nquestion--How can you know that you are right? The answer to this\nquestion is what I would put into every young man's and young woman's\nheart--into every boy's and girl's heart--so that, at the start, he,\nshe, may be sure a right start is being made. _The only sure way is to\ndrop your own will and become \"Divine-willed.\"_ This by no means\nsignifies that you become a nobody, a cipher, an insignificant ant in\nthe world. It is just the reverse. It is allying yourself with the\nright, the only right, the perfect right, the unchangeable right.\nSuppose the case that a man starts out in life with the determination to\nbe self-willed about the multiplication table. He insists upon his\nfreedom, his individuality, his self-will, and refuses to be tied to any\ntable made by any one else, be that one God, angel, or man. Who cannot\nsee that such a man is a fool? It is impossible to reject, to \"buck\nagainst\" the multiplication table. Every man, sooner or later, has to\nswallow it, accept it wholly, completely, unreservedly, live by it,\nswear by it, die by it, and more than that he has to do it gladly,\nwillingly, or it can never be a real part of himself. If he is all the\ntime protesting against it, and declaring that it ought to be changed or\nabolished, or not quite so dogmatic in its assertions, he will all the\ntime be worried, distressed, irritated, because it pays no attention to\nhis wishes. Two times two make four, no matter who kicks, or is\nirritated, or wishes it to be changed, and so with every other statement\nof the whole table.\n\nWhat I am getting at is this, that, though we may not always see it at\nfirst, or even at second or third sight, the moral world is governed by\na multiplication table as sure and certain, as unchangeable and fixed\nas is the mathematical world. And it is the acceptance of the moral\nmultiplication table that I call being \"Divine-Willed.\" A man may live\nfor years swindling his neighbors and giving them fourteen ounces for a\npound, and think he has fooled the multiplication table as easily as he\nhas fooled his customers, but the rate never changed; it was sixteen\nounces all the time. A man may fool his neighbors and himself in regard\nto the _moral_ multiplication table, but sooner or later, here or\nhereafter, in this incarnation or some other, he will have to learn to\naccept, love, and live by it in every act, thought, and word. It cannot\nbe any other--there is no other door--this is the only salvation. _This_\nis accepting Christ--the Truth, the Way, the Life, living the Life He\nlived, filled with the Divine-Will, the Divine Spirit, that filled him.\nWhether you are a gambler, a sport, a liar, a cheat, a Sunday-school\nsuperintendent, a fool, a drunkard, a senator, a professor of religion,\nan agnostic, a wise man or a mere child in knowledge, you can never\nenter the Kingdom of Joy, Peace, Blessedness, that we call Heaven,\nunless you conform to the Divine Moral Multiplication Table. This is\nwhat I am endeavoring to radiate--that I am trying to set aside my\nimperfect human will, which sometimes kicks against the unchangeable and\nimmovable, and accept the perfect, complete, and unchangeable.\n\nBut you ask: How am I to know this moral multiplication table? Easy\nenough. Don't try to take it all in at once. Begin at the beginning.\nLearn the \"twos\" first. Twice one are two, twice two are four, twice\nthree are six, and so on. Start on the Ten Commandments. Master and\n_live_ them. Then absorb the Golden Rule. Then try the Sermon on the\nMount.\n\nThere's enough to keep you busy for a few days, anyhow. But I suppose\nsome of you will say you can't do it. Nonsense! You've got to do it, and\nyou won't _really_ live until you do. You can't dodge the multiplication\ntable; nor can you dodge these. There is no escape. Divinity never made\nany man or any woman who could get away from them. Creeds, church\ndogmas, men's ideas about religion or what they call religion may be\ntrue, or may not be true, but the fundamental principles of the life of\nthe Spirit always have existed, always will exist, and every man, sooner\nor later, must come into perfect harmony with them. This is what I want\nto radiate--my desire that I should become Divine-willed and that every\none else should be the same--quick, soon, now.\n\nThen, having _started_ right, one may have more confidence and assurance\nin taking the next step, which is the second thing connected with the\nwill that I would radiate, viz.: I will to be good for something. What\nis the purpose, the object of life? What are we here for? To eat and\ndrink, sleep and satisfy our appetites and then die like other mere\nanimals who do the same thing? I don't believe it. I never did. As\nBrowning puts it, a spark has disturbed my clod, and now I am\ndiscontented to remain a clod--a mere brute beast, living, as does the\nhog, merely for the satisfaction of my physical senses. I feel higher,\nnobler, worthier aspirations within me. John Muir, the great California\nNature-lover, scientist, and poet, wrote when he was twenty-seven years\nold a letter in which he said:\n\n    A lifetime is so little a time that we die ere we get ready to live.\n    I would like to go to college, but then I have to say to myself \"you\n    will die ere you can do anything else.\" I should like to invent\n    useful machinery, but it comes \"you do not wish to spend your\n    lifetime among machines and you will die ere you can do anything\n    else.\" I should like to study medicine that I might do my part in\n    lessening human misery, but again it comes \"you will die ere you are\n    ready, or able to do so.\" How intensely I desire to be a Humboldt,\n    but again the chilling answer is reiterated. But could we live a\n    million years then how delightful to spend in perfect contentment so\n    many thousand years in quiet study in college, so many amid the\n    grateful din of machines, so many among human pain, so many\n    thousands in the sweet study of Nature among the dingles and dells\n    of Scotland, and all the other less important parts of our world.\n\nHere were four noble and beautiful aspirations. 1. To go to college and\nlearn more. 2. To invent useful machinery. 3. To study medicine that he\nmight lessen human misery. 4. To be a Humboldt and explore the world for\nthe enlightenment of mankind.\n\nWhat do _you_ want to be?\n\nTo go to college to have a good time (!)--save the mark--as some\nstudents do? I was once riding on a railway train going to Boston, and\nat New Haven twenty-seven young students got on board and every one\ndrunk. Do you think Muir had anything of that kind in mind when he said\nhe wanted to go to college? At one of the great universities of the West\nI was present when the students made a great uproar because the faculty\nhad prohibited beer-wagons from coming upon the campus to deliver their\nwares at the \"frat\" houses. I have seen university \"men\" celebrating\nsome baseball or other victory when the celebration has taken the form\nof a drunken and sensual orgy. Can you imagine a man like Muir ever\nhaving wanted to engage in such a disgraceful and degrading scene?\n\nMuir started out right. He began by seeking to be \"Divine-willed,\" and\nthen by willing to be \"good for something.\"\n\nA friend of mine, who radiates love and helpfulness to every human\nbeing no matter how low and degraded, once helped a poor, ugly, besotted\nson of the gutter, who had sunk about as low as he possibly could sink.\nOne day as he sat on his piazza enjoying the beautiful calm of a\nglorious spring afternoon he saw his prot\u00e9g\u00e9 approaching. Giving him a\nglad welcome the two were soon in conversation and the gutter-waif\nfinally expressed his thanks for the help and encouragement he had\nreceived, and, as is natural with every really awakened soul, wanted to\n_do something_ in return for what he felt my friend had done for him. In\nvain the helper of men protested there was nothing he wished to have\ndone, but the one who had been helped kept on insisting that he must do\nsomething. He said, \"I not only want to be good, but I want to be _good\nfor something_. Now, what can I do?\"\n\n\"Well,\" at last said my friend, \"since you must do something, go out and\nfind somebody worse off, lower down, more needy than you were when you\nfirst came to me, and help him.\"\n\nAs he went away my friend settled down to an afternoon's study and\nenjoyment of his books, and of Nature, but within an hour his prot\u00e9g\u00e9\nreturned wearing a smile that reached almost from ear to ear. As he\nentered the gate he called out: \"I've got him! I've got him!\"\n\n\"Got who?\"\n\n\"Why, the man you sent me for!\"\n\n\"What man?\"\n\n\"The man you told me to go and find and help. I've found him, and I\nthought I couldn't help him better than by bringing him to you.\"\n\n\"Where is he?\"\n\n\"He's waiting out here by the barn, for I couldn't persuade him to come\nup until I had first seen and told you.\"\n\n\"Bring him along!\"\n\nAs the two derelicts returned, the one towing the other up the walk, my\nfriend said the sight of the second vagabond and outcast was almost too\nmuch for him. He was not only ragged and filthy, but thin to emaciation,\nwith that horrible look of long continued debauching degradation. The\nprincipal feature about him was his nose--the large, red, pimply nose of\nthe habitual drunkard. Almost instinctively the _lower_ human in my\nfriend asserted itself. It rebelled against having anything to do with\nso vile-looking and disgusting a wretch. \"What's the use?\" he exclaimed,\nalmost aloud.\n\nThen, suddenly, these thoughts came: \"Inasmuch as ye did it unto the\nleast of these my brethren ye did it unto me.\" \"This man is as much a\nchild of God as I am. The _real_ man in him is as Godlike as I. He is my\nbrother. We are both sons of God.\" \"And,\" said he, \"I instantly arose\nand went to meet him, with outstretched hand of cordial welcome.\"\n\nTo shorten the story I can only relate how, after he had had a hearty\nmeal and a long conversation, the outcast finally poured out his soul to\nthe man who had met him as a brother.\n\n\"I was not always what you now see me. I was in a good position,\nhonored, respected. Had a beautiful family, a good home, was the\nsuperintendent of a Sunday School, the leader of a church choir, and\nhappy in my home, my church, my friends. But I was tempted and fell. I\nran away from home and all my responsibilities, and went on falling\nlower and lower, until this very morning I vowed that the next fall\nwould be into the river or a suicide's grave. But God must have meant me\nfor something or He would not have taken the trouble to get me here this\nmorning. I'm going to try to rise.\"\n\nWith cheering words he was heartily and sincerely encouraged, with\nneither rebukes nor cant. As he rose to go, he said, \"What can I do for\nyou to show my gratitude for what you have done for me?\" and he would\nnot take \"No\" for an answer. He was finally told he might mow the lawn\nif he chose, and in telling the story, my friend said, with tears in his\neyes: \"He was so sincere that he went over it four times. He really\nseemed to have shaved, instead of mowed it.\" He was then allowed to\ntake a bath, and my friend fitted him out as well as he could with an\nold suit of clothing. In the meantime a couple of hundred friends who\nhad been invited for an evening open-air social chat and singing began\nto arrive. The organ was brought out from the parlor, one of the number\nbegan to play, and then my friend called for a volunteer choir to come\nand surround the organ to lead the singing. To his great surprise the\nbathed and reclothed outcast gently sidled up with the rest. Some of the\nelegantly dressed ladies looked upon him with suspicion and some fear,\nwhich, however, dropped away in great measure, as he began to sing. For,\nstrange to say, though he afterwards declared he had not sung a note for\nseveral years, the assertion of the purpose to live a new and clean\nlife, seemed not only to bring back the desire to sing, but actually\ngave him back his voice. His rich clear tenor soared sweetly and without\neffort over the voices of the others and then blended perfectly with\nthem in glorious harmony.\n\nA week later, when the friends came, he was there again, and the short\nseven days of new resolve and high endeavor had so changed him in\nappearance that no one knew him again. A job had been found for him, and\nthis was done in a remarkable way. Without seeing him, a gentleman,\nfilled with the helpful spirit, and desirous of being good \"for\nsomething,\" at my friend's request interested himself in finding him\noccupation. His capacity was so quickly proven that he was put into a\nresponsible position where a two-thousand-dollar bond was required,\nwhich he supplied. He worked so thoroughly and efficiently that he was\nsoon promoted, and ere many months had gone by his family, so long\nseparated from him, was with him in happiness and content. Before a year\nof service he gained the special reward of $1,000 given each year by the\nfirm that employed him for the highest general efficiency shown in any\ndepartment, and is to-day honored, respected, back again in the high\nestate from which he had fallen, but a far wiser, nobler, and better\nman.\n\nThrough tribulation and sorrow, pain and woe, wretchedness and despair,\nsin and its consequences he had learned the lesson, that you cannot\nshirk the moral multiplication table--that there is no short cut to\ngoodness, except to accept at once, instead of later, the will of the\nDivine.\n\nGo back for a few moments to the first outcast, who brought this second\none to my friend. Had he gone away with the thought that now he must\nmake some money, he must take care of himself _first_, the second man\nmight have filled a suicide's grave. He started out right--to be\nDivine-willed--to be unselfish, to be helpful to the rest of the world,\nand those worse off than himself. Muir didn't want to study medicine to\nbecome a great physician for the purpose of making money, but to relieve\nthe pain of unfortunate sufferers. He willed to be good \"for something.\"\nThis is the spirit, the life, I would radiate on every hand, every day.\nI do not mean that all endeavor for self-improvement, self-culture,\nself-benefit is undesirable. By no means. But the nearer it approximates\nto the unselfish ideal, the better it will be. When Walt Whitman was a\nyoung man, he was a house-builder. He happened to strike a \"building\nboom,\" and made money so fast that, said he, \"I was in danger of\nbecoming rich.\" And he decided to go and be an unpaid nurse in the Union\nArmy, rather than spoil himself by becoming rich. To gain riches is good\nas far as it goes--but it goes a very short way in the road to manhood,\ncharacter, nobleness of life. So whatever you will to do and be, put a\nhigh ideal before you, something immeasurably better than mere\nmoney-getting. Make your profession a means of grace, of\ncharacter-building, of enabling you to benefit and bless the world. Mere\nfinancial success can easily be attained, but you will surely not be\ncontent with that. Hitch your wagon to a star, and soar upwards. Aim at\nthe high things. Will to do great, noble, beneficent things and that\nwill be willing to be good \"for something.\"\n\nThe third thing in connection with the human will that I wish to\nradiate is what I might term \"the insistence of the human will.\" After I\nhave willed to be \"Divine-willed,\" and to \"will to achieve a high and\nnoble purpose,\" I want to compel my will to keep on willing that which I\nhave already willed. It is comparatively easy to will to do, or be,\nsomething, but alas! how far short some of us come from attaining that\nwhich we have willed to be. When Jesus sent out His disciples He gave\nthem many warnings, much encouragement, informed them of the\ndifficulties they would encounter, and then incited them to persistence\nof endeavor by assuring them that \"He that endureth to the end shall be\nsaved.\" It is this thought of \"endurance,\" or \"persistence\" that I would\never radiate. I have set before me an aim, an object, worthy to be\nachieved. Though it may be difficult to attain, I will to keep on\nwilling until it is attained.\n\nA short time ago I watched the students at the Physical Culture Training\nSchool, in Chicago. It gives me a good illustration of what I would ever\nradiate.\n\nI saw the leader of one of the classes do a particular act, and then the\nstudents, one after another, tried to follow the leader in doing that\nthing. Some of the men who tried, willed to do it all right, but they\ndid not succeed. Many times a man wills to do a thing when he does not\nseem competent, but the real man keeps on until he makes himself\ncompetent. So with some of these. They went back and tried again--and\nwent back and tried again, and the men who willed and then kept at it\nuntil they became competent were the ones that achieved.\n\nOne of the great lessons of all life is, not merely to learn to\nwill--that is easy enough--but to insist upon the will keeping at it\nuntil we accomplish what we have determined to do. We \"will\" every day\nto do things, and yet we do not do them. We say, \"I am going to do this;\nI am going to do that; or the other.\" We start out in life and we have\nall kinds of ambitions and aspirations before us, and we say, \"This is\ngoing to be my achievement; I intend to accomplish this thing.\" But we\nget to be twenty-five--thirty years of age, and we have not\nachieved--that is, the great mass of people have not.\n\nWhy?\n\nBecause we have not learned this lesson of the Insistence of the Human\nWill. We have determined to do a thing and then we have not had the\npower or the courage or the determination or the endurance to keep on\nwilling until the thing desired was achieved.\n\nLet us suppose a case: A man starts in a race; he is on the ground ready\nto spring forward at the firing of the pistol. The moment the pistol is\nfired he makes his forward bound and goes ahead as hard as he can. Is a\ngood start all that is needed? I picked up a picture recently of a\nrunner who was coming to the end of his race. His face revealed clearly\nwhat a struggle he was having. His mouth was wide open, and he was\nlaboring to the very extremity of his strength and power; he was\n\"enduring to the end.\" He made a good start, but now at the latter part\nof the journey the race was more difficult; it was almost dangerous\nbecause he was panting so hard he could scarcely get his breath. The\nwhole face, the whole body, seemed in pain and distress; but he was\n_enduring_; he was going on. It is the man who not only makes the start,\nbut _he who endures_ that wins the race.\n\nIt is not those who start in with the greatest hope, and faith, and\nenergy, and courage, but \"He that shall endure to the _end_ shall be\nsaved.\" It is the enduring to the end. Hence let me urge upon you the\nspeedy learning of this important lesson of life. After you have willed\nto do a good thing put your purpose before you; keep it clearly,\npositively in sight all the time; then, every day and every hour,\nresolve to _do_ that which you have _determined_ to do; in other words,\ninsist that you do what you have willed to do.\n\nI was once very much interested in watching Bernarr Macfadden, the\neditor of _Physical Culture_ magazine. I was favored with opportunities\nfor coming in close touch with him. The way he insists that his will\nshall endure; the way he takes himself by the throat, as it were, and\ninsists, is most interesting to me. One day I started out with him for a\nwalk. He was quietly and easily getting himself in training so that he\ncould walk fifty miles and be fresh and vigorous enough at the end of\nthe walk so that he could give a lecture. Certainly it is a delightful\nand a profitable thing to be able to walk fifty miles without exhausting\nfatigue. We started out together, but after walking twelve miles I felt\nweary, and returned. But he went on, and when he returned that night I\nfound he had walked thirty-seven miles. Though he was doing all his\nregular and arduous work, he was quietly insisting on these long walks,\nand in a very short time he would accomplish his fifty miles daily with\ncomparative ease. He has mastered the idea--\"The Insistence of the Human\nWill.\"\n\nTake an inventor. No man ever invents anything unless he insists day\nafter day, in spite of discouragements, in spite of failures, in spite\nof opposition, sometimes in spite of the stealings of people who would\nrob him of what he has already accomplished. The man who has the real\ndesire to be an inventor keeps on and on, compelling his will to rewill\nwhat he has already willed, and I could fill these pages with the life\nstories of men who have determined, and of women who have determined,\nand who have achieved because they have learned this lesson of the\ninsistence of the will.\n\nI once had the pleasure of talking with Thomas A. Edison, in his\nlaboratory, in Orange, N. J. I said, pointing to a mass of interesting\nlooking materials: \"What is this, Mr. Edison?\" He said, \"Oh, I have been\nworking for thirty years on that thing.\"\n\n\"How are you getting along with it?\"\n\nHe replied, \"Well, sometimes I think we are making progress, and then\nagain I think we are not, but the only way we can achieve is by keeping\neverlastingly at it, and when I can't work, I set my men to work on it,\nand we are slowly getting results.\"\n\nAnd so Mr. Edison every once in awhile astounds the world with some\nmarvelous achievement. People suppose he stumbles on it--that he\ndiscovers it in a moment, and perhaps he does, but that moment was made\npossible by the thousands upon thousands of moments that were as steps\nhe had taken leading up to the place where the vision burst upon him. Do\nyou see the thought? It is the Insistence of the Human Will that compels\nachievement. It is the man that never lets up that gains the reward.\n\nFifty years ago a man named Judah set out to survey a railroad across\nthe great Sierra Nevada range of mountains, that vast barrier that\nseems to separate California from the rest of the world. The people\npractically said, \"You are a fool to think of such a thing,\" but he\ncalmly replied: \"I know I can put a road through; I am going to try it\nanyhow.\" So he began to climb those mountain heights. He threaded the\npasses one by one. He took his men and they worked day after day, week\nafter week, month after month, upon what seemed to be an impossibility.\n\nWhat was the result? He kept at it until he achieved. He made his plans\nand made them so well that he ultimately succeeded in convincing the\nHouse of Representatives and the United States Senate that such a\nrailroad was possible.\n\nThen four men, Huntington, Crocker, Stanford, and Hopkins, determined to\nbuild the road that he had surveyed. Again the pessimists said: \"It is\nimpossible; you will never raise the money to build a railroad over the\nSierra Nevadas.\" But the four men worked away, and little by little got\nthe money. As they built they were harassed on every hand. Labor\ntroubles in those days were terrible. The President of the company said,\n\"I don't know what we are going to do.\" Crocker, the man who had\nundertaken to see after the actual building of the road, said: \"I know\nwhat I am going to do; I am going to get help to build that railroad\nsomewhere.\" And so he sent a man to China to secure a lot of Chinese\nlaborers. These were brought to this country, and the result was that\nwith those Chinamen, in defiance of the President of his company, who\nhad said that Chinamen should not be employed, Crocker built the\nrailroad. And now you can cross the Sierra Nevada range without a\nthought of care because of the dominant, insistent will of that man and\nhis associates.\n\nThe fact of the matter is, if you are going to achieve anything in life\nyou will have to be \"drivers\"--you will have to keep at it until you\nsucceed. You will have to be a slave driver, and you yourself will be\nthe slave, willingly, gladly, joyously, of your own purpose. Do you want\nto be a slave to your own purpose? Do you want to _do_ the things that\nyou have willed to do? Some of us get the idea that bondage--to be bound\nto anything--is always an unpleasant thing. Not at all! Bind yourself to\na high and noble purpose. Make yourself a slave to it in the sense of\nconscientiously sticking to it. Now drive yourself, and compel yourself\nto go ahead and do that which you have determined to do.\n\nWhen I think of the old pioneers who walked and rode across this country\nto reach California; when I think of the many dangers, difficulties, and\nhardships that faced those men; when I see that they were living\nillustrations of this thought I am trying to bring out--I wish I had\nonly time and space to give a definite account, instead of a mere\nsynopsis of the kind of things they had to endure. They were surrounded\nby hostile Indians; again and again their lives were in jeopardy. Now\nand then they came to great sloughs and marshes, and their wagons and\nanimals were bogged. They had to find their way across the dangerous\nquicksands; hard storms came and they had whirlwinds and floods to\ncontend with. Now and again they found themselves in the heart of\ncanyons, where there was no apparent way out; yet they went on, and on,\nuntil they either died or reached the land for which they had started!\n\nA party of eighty set out to cross the great Sierra Nevada range, and\nthe difficulties they encountered can best be imagined when I tell you\nthat forty of them died on the way. The difficulties that beset the\nforty that were left made it all but impossible for them to get out. One\nof them told me about the terrible hardships they suffered. She said, \"I\nremember, distinctly, when the time came for us to get away, my dear\nmother taking up the baby, and leaving me behind with the other baby.\nShe said, 'Now, Virginia, you stay right here!' She then went on with\nthe baby, and, after struggling step by step, in such a way that it\nwould break your heart to think of it, for about twenty paces, she put\ndown the baby and came back for the other baby and myself.\" And so, step\nby step, step by step, that woman with her three little children,\nstarted on that awful journey of scores of miles through deep snow.\nFortunately help came to her assistance and she finally achieved. She\nreached California, though one would have thought it absolutely\nimpossible. There was the tremendous insistence of the human will.\n\nLet us say \"I will!\" and then insist upon doing the things we have said\nwe will do.\n\nI remember when I was a boy hearing some one recite something that I\nthought was very foolish. A little piece of \"poetry\" it was called. It\nwas as follows:\n\n    Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on!\n    Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on!\n    Go on, go on, go on!\n\nI have since learned that there is a great deal in that \"poem.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nRADIANCIES OF CHEERFULNESS\n\n\nI want to be cheerful and to radiate cheerfulness at all times, under\nall circumstances, in all conditions and places. I want to do this\nbecause I want to do it. Not because it is my duty, or because I shall\nmake some one else unhappy if I do not, but merely and simply because\nthere is a great joy in the fact of cheerfulness itself.\n\nI have a friend into whose presence I never come without feeling the\nradiant cheerfulness of his nature. His face lights up with a beautiful\nsmile, his hand is immediately stretched out and my hand grasped with a\ncordial clasp; kind words come to his lips with a sincerity that one can\nnever question, and in the most unaffected, genuine, and simple manner\nhe radiates the cheerfulness and gladness of his own soul.\n\nDid you never meet with such people who were always bright and sunny,\nwho always gave forth a cheery word, always radiated optimism?\nEverything they say or do makes you feel with Browning:\n\n    God's in His heaven;\n    All's right with the world.\n\nAnd all this is done without any flattery or conscious effort on their\npart to make you feel good. Some of the severest rebukes I have ever\nreceived were from this man of whom I have spoken, and yet they were\ngiven in such a sweet, gentle manner and with such perfect sincerity\nthat not only was there no irritation aroused, but a sense of gratitude\nimplanted that I had such a real, sincere friend.\n\nI do not wonder that men demand cheerfulness in others. It seems\nsomewhat heartless to put up a notice in your office, as I have seen in\nmany offices, \"I have troubles enough of my own. Tell yours to the\njanitor,\" or as another version has it, \"Don't tell your troubles to me,\nI have enough of my own,\" yet it speaks of a fact that is all too\nuniversal, namely, that each person does have his own large share of\nburdens which sometimes seem as if they would swamp him.\n\nAs Dr. Gulick once wrote:\n\n    There is probably not one person in the world but has tragedy enough\n    and pain enough straight along to warrant--yes, absolutely to\n    warrant--pretty complete discouragement. And I imagine that there is\n    no person who is so perfectly adjusted by nature, so entirely\n    balanced in health, that there are not times when it is necessary to\n    hold himself by deliberate will power--to forget how he has been\n    hurt, to turn aside from some ugly thing in a friend's character, to\n    turn aside from the bad in his own character, for every one of us\n    has that which is bad in his character. Our characters are ugly\n    enough in part so that, if we were to dwell constantly on that part,\n    the prospect would seem pretty disheartening and justifiably so.\n\nAll this has to be remembered in our association with men and women. And\nwhen we remember, why should we not wish, instead of adding to their\nburdens, to lighten or help remove them?\n\nThat cheerfulness is possible in this world of woe and trial, there can\nbe no question, because every now and again, each of us has met with\nsome person who radiated this quality at all times. And we know that in\nour own experience, when we have willed to be cheerful and to radiate\ncheerfulness to others, we have accomplished far more in that line than\nwe otherwise should have done.\n\nOnly the other day I picked up a trade journal and in it was a short\nletter from one business man about another business man who had recently\npassed away. Let me quote a part of it:\n\n    Away back in the '80's I met him under the following circumstances.\n    I was then in Chicago and although an invalid was well enough to\n    assist my brother a little in his office work.\n\n    One day a stranger came in who received an especially cordial\n    greeting from both my brother and his partner. It proved to be Harry\n    W. Sommers.\n\n    He was, for a short time, a daily visitor and when he came in there\n    seemed to come with him a glow of sunshine.\n\n    It made the same impression upon me as it does sometimes, after a\n    long period of rain and cloudiness, when the sun, in all its\n    brightness, suddenly bursts forth.\n\n    One day he came to bid my brother good-by, and although it is\n    twenty-one years ago, the wave of his hand, the cheery smile and the\n    hearty good-by, as he looked toward me, still linger in my memory.\n\n    Many a time since has he come into my mind, although I never saw him\n    afterward, accompanied with the thought that were there more Harry\n    Sommerses in this world, it would be a brighter and far happier\n    place to dwell.\n\nI would far rather leave a legacy like that behind me than to leave an\nimmense fortune over which my heirs would quarrel and go to law and\nengender ill feelings and then possibly spend in an injurious manner.\n\nIt is said of Sister Dora, the noble-hearted woman who gave her life to\nthe iron workers of the \"Black Country\" in England, that as she went to\nand fro in the wards of the hospitals, her presence was like a glad\nburst of sunshine to the poor sick men and women to whom she ministered.\nThough they were rough, uncouth, even profane and wicked, she never\nfailed in her courtesy and bright cheerfulness, and the result was that\npatients under her control regained their health far more rapidly than\nthose who were subjected to the depressing influences of moody,\ncheerless, censorious persons.\n\nThe same thing is said of Walt Whitman. When he was in the Government's\nemploy at Washington, with a salary of one hundred and twenty dollars a\nmonth, he took forty dollars of this for his own use and spent the\nother eighty dollars to provide comforts and luxuries for the poor\nsoldier boys in the hospitals. I have heard old soldiers tell of the way\nthey used to feel when he appeared. \"It was like the coming of a young\nSanta Claus.\" He carried a pack on his back which he would drop by the\nside of a bed and reaching out his friendly hand, with a radiant smile\nwould say: \"Well, how is it with you to-day?\" and then, if the soldier\nwere a stranger, he would ask: \"Do you use tobacco?\" If the man said,\n\"No,\" he would reply, \"That's good.\" If on the other hand he said,\n\"Yes,\" Walt's reply would be the same, and he would dive down into his\npack and bring out a little tobacco, which he would give with a few kind\nand cheery words to the poor bed-ridden soldier. If the invalid didn't\nuse tobacco there was a book, a game, or something else that would bring\ncheer and forgetfulness. Thus he would pass up and down the wards,\nradiating brightness and good cheer on every hand. There is no wonder\nthat as he passed outside every eye followed him, every heart felt an\ninstinctive \"God bless you,\" and every voice called out, \"Come again,\nsoon.\"\n\nThere surely are enough conditions in Nature to help the soul that wants\nto be cheerful and radiate cheerfulness. Every morning the sun arises\nwith radiating light, brightness and beauty, illuminating and glorifying\neven the darkest and dullest of the things of earth. The stars shine\nnightly in all their sincere and calm beauty, radiating the assurance of\nInfinite power and perpetual care.\n\nIn radiant Nature, the butterfly skims the air in its light and\nfascinating flight, attracting the eye and charming with its exquisite\ncoloring. The dew of morning, receiving the golden rays of the sun,\nmakes the grass and trees appear as if blossoming in millions of\ndiamonds, each a globe of radiating, scintillating brightness and\nbeauty. The birds sing day and night, rain or shine, in sunshine or\nstorm, radiating their cheerfulness and constant optimism. The trees\nawaken to the caressing touch of the sun and rustle to and fro, speaking\nin unmistakable language their joy of mere living, and glistening back\nand forth their appreciation of the gift of warmth and brightness. The\nflowers grow as freely in the wilds as in the cultivated gardens of\nman--blossoming evidences of Nature's power to produce gorgeous and\nresplendent color, perfection in beauty of form and exquisite\ndeliciousness in odor. Even the snail crawls along expressive of delight\nin the morning, and the worm comes forth from the clod to express its\nappreciation.\n\nI have watched the mountains with their snow-crowned, virgin-pure peaks\nsoaring into the blue of the heavens and the massive rocks of the mighty\ncanyons of the West basking restfully in the glorious light of day, and\neven these majestic rock-giants spoke the unmistakable language of joy,\nand called upon men to be cheerful.\n\nWe find exactly the same spirit and influence, if we will but look for\nit, in mankind. Too often we see but the sordidness, the greed, the\nselfishness, the cruelty, the rapacity of men, yet we all know that this\nis but one side, and it is not the reality, it is only the shadow of the\nreal man, that the _real_ man is kind, sympathetic, helpful, generous,\ntrue-hearted, and pure. If we fix our eyes upon one tiny spot the size\nof a dollar that is speckled or black, we can soon shut out all the\nbrightness, beauty, and sweetness outside. I well remember one of the\nsentimental songs that was current in my boyhood days. It probably had\nas much of the mock sentiment as any other of these songs, but two lines\nof the refrain I have never forgotten, and whenever I hear one speaking\nof the unkindness of humanity, I feel like quoting them:\n\n    But speak not so untruly,\n    There are kind hearts everywhere.\n\nIn spite of the strenuousness of our modern life, as we look around upon\nthe social settlements, the orphan asylums, and the thousands of men and\nwomen who adopt helpless orphans, the prisoners' aid societies, where\nbusiness men actually make a point of finding their help, where\npossible, from those who have served a term in prison or the\npenitentiary, and the thousand and one other institutions which show\nthat the Golden Rule is actively in operation in the hearts of men and\nwomen--I say these things make me happy and cheerful, and I feel like\nsinging for joy, that innate beauty is as much in evidence, and more, in\nthe hearts and minds of men as it is in Nature.\n\nSo I want cheerfulness to be the constant habit of my mind and soul. I\ndo not wish to be cheerful occasionally or semi-occasionally. I would\nprefer to be a man of one mood and that mood, with its variations, to be\na mood of habitual cheerfulness. I regard a cheerful disposition as one\nof the most precious possessions. It is like a pair of spectacles that\nhave the power of luminosity within themselves. It sees clearly enough\nbut lightens up the darkest and most dreary spots of earth. Cheerfulness\nis not only a duty, but a philosophy, a religion, a wisdom. The cheerful\nman is the perpetually wise optimist. A cheerless or gloomy man is the\nperpetually unwise pessimist. And years ago I learned to test all\nphilosophies and religions by practical life. No philosophy, no religion\nwas good that could not satisfy every-day life. Optimism never fails at\nany time, but pessimism is worse than a broken reed to lean upon.\n\nTake the pessimists you know, and I can pretty nearly stake my life\nupon it you will find nearly all of them dyspeptics, with poor\ncirculation, shivering on a cold morning with their hands in their\npockets, complaining that they were not awakened early enough, finding\nfault because the breakfast was not served just right, railing at the\ncar service, ranting about the rottenness of men in public life. They\nseem to take a pride in believing, as did Dickens' Mantalini in\n_Nicholas Nickleby_, that \"We are all going to the demnition bow-wows.\"\nWhat a contrast there is between this man and the Cheeryble Brothers of\nthe same book, those great and simple-hearted human reservoirs of\ncheerfulness and optimism, radiating sweetness, happiness, content,\nwherever they went, blessing and benefiting every heart willing to\naccept the sweetness and purity of theirs.\n\nPessimism is not a working theory of life. It is the substitution of\ngloomy, deep-blue spectacles for the beautiful luminous ones. As Dr.\nGulick says:\n\n    Pessimism is negative, denial, believing that the evil is more than\n    the good, that life is not worth while; it is a dampening down of\n    life. Pessimism tends to its own annihilation, because it takes away\n    life's motives, life's vigor, life's power.\n\nOn the other hand, optimism cheers, encourages, brightens, beautifies,\nglorifies, blesses, helps. And I long ago learned that that man, that\nwoman, who succeeds in helping and benefiting and blessing mankind is\nessentially an optimist.\n\nThe other day I saw the act of an optimist. He and a friend were seated\nin a street car. It was Saturday night, the car was crowded, and by and\nby two well-dressed men got in, one of them with an unmistakable look of\nrefinement, the other somewhat coarse looking. Both had evidently been\ndrinking heavily. The more refined and elder of the two could barely\nstand upright, as the car whirled around the curves. The optimist looked\nup, saw the state of affairs, and in the sweetest, gentlest manner arose\nand extended his hand and bade the elderly gentleman take his seat.\nThere was no look of reproach or disgust, and yet I know that he was a\nrigid abstainer and strong temperance worker and one who hated every\nform of indulgence in alcoholic liquors. The companion of the man who\nhad taken the seat, began to talk in the ordinary mumbling, rambling,\neffusive style of the drunkard, and the other without either impatience\nor any sign of disapproval, quietly entered into the conversation, and I\nspeak only the fact when I state that without any preaching or\nfault-finding, his few earnest, sincere, optimistic words so won the\nheart of that large, coarse-looking, drunken man that he seemed\nabsolutely sobered and responded to the higher call of the soul.\n\nThis is what optimism and cheerfulness do for mankind, hence I want to\nradiate it more and more.\n\nMark Twain was full of this spirit of radiating cheerfulness. In one of\nhis darkest hours in San Francisco, before he had gained name or fame,\nthings had gone wrong and a lady friend passing along a street saw him\nstanding beside a lamp-post with a cigar-box under his arm. \"Cigars?\"\nshe asked. \"Where are you going in such a hurry?\" \"I'm m-o-o-v-i-n-g,\"\ndrawled Mark, at the same time displaying the contents of the box which\nconsisted of a pair of socks, a pipe, and two paper collars. Even in his\ndarkest hours he was able to look out upon the bright side, and out from\nthose hours of gloom came some of the brightest pieces of wit and\ncheerful philosophy to irradiate and bless the entire world.\n\nIf I were an employer of labor and could get the right men and women to\ndo the work, I would employ a half dozen for my factory or workshop to\nteach my employees to be cheerful, to laugh and sing at their work. It\nwould be a good paying investment. I would get a great deal more work\nout of my employees and of a great deal better quality. A hearty laugh\nis better than a bottle of medicine; a volume of Mark Twain or Marshall\nWilder, better than a library of pessimistic philosophy of high sounding\nphrases.\n\nCheerfulness takes the jolts out of the rutty road of life. It is an\nextra pair of springs to the wagon. It is an automobile shock-absorber.\nIt resists the encroachments of the grouch and bids the blue devils\navaunt!\n\nThe old-fashioned methods of kings having a clown to keep them and their\ncourt laughing during meal time was a profound piece of philosophy and\nwisdom, for the stomach's sake, if for no other reason. The folly of the\nclown caused laughter, promoted genial humor which increased the flow of\nall the digestive juices and thus contributed to good digestion and\nperfect assimilation. The uncheerful father or mother who sits down to\nthe table like a thundercloud and suppresses the bright, happy\nexuberance of childhood ought to be taken down to the dentist and pumped\nfull of laughing-gas until he or she would laugh for a week. I would\nmake such people laugh until their sides ached and they had to go to bed\nto get over it, and every time a frown or gloomy look came over the face\nI would have somebody lift a warning finger (but also a laughing face)\nand threaten them with another week's dose of laughing-gas.\n\n\"But,\" says the gloomy one, \"life has gone wrong with me. How can I be\ncheerful when I am out of work and sick and have no friends?\" Your case\nis hard, my friend. I recognize it with sympathy, but let me tell you\nthis, that every grouchy look and word will make it harder for you to\nget work, and will put friendship further away from you. Even as a\nbusiness proposition, it does not pay. _Make yourself laugh_ and be\ncheerful, whether you can be or not, for very few men are willing to\nsurround themselves with those who appear to be gloomy, depressed and\ngrouchy. Learn the lesson that it does no good to indulge in self-pity.\nWhatever the adverse circumstances of life may be, face them like a man.\n\nYears ago I had learned this lesson of refusal to pity myself, and I\nthen wrote:\n\n\"I want to radiate a spirit that refuses to pity itself for any of its\nwoes, its afflictions, its misfortunes, its sorrows. There is no\nweakness so weak as the weakness of self-pity; there is nothing so\nspiritually debilitating as to brood over one's own sorrows. It is a\nkind of melancholy selfishness; it neither helps one's self nor others;\nit is depressing to all concerned. I happened to read to-day in a\npopular novel a sentence that most truthfully expresses what I believe\nupon this subject: 'The most absolutely selfish thing in the world is to\ngive way to depression, to think of one's troubles at all, except of how\nto overcome them. I spend many delightful hours thinking of the pleasant\nand beautiful things of life. I decline to waste a single second even in\nconsidering the ugly ones.'\n\n\"It is just as easy to form a habit of dwelling upon the sweet and good\nand beautiful and happy things of life as upon the bitter and evil and\nugly and unhappy things. Brooding enlarges whatever it exercises itself\nupon, whether it be good or evil, joy or woe. So brood on the good\nthings, cast out the others, and so live that you radiate this joy and\ndetermination not to recognize the evil and unpleasant things.\n\n\"Self-pity takes the backbone out of one. It robs one of his manhood,\nhis courage, his daring to go on and face all the difficulties before\nhim. It is self-pity that makes the suicide. He looks at his woes, his\ndifficulties, until he cannot bear them, and so goes and takes the big\nplunge into the dark.\n\n\"Brother, sister, quit your self-pitying. There is another side to the\ndarkness. Look up, not down. Remember that, in the words of Robert\nBrowning, 'God's in His heaven, all's right with the world.' So I have\nlong resolved to radiate cheerfulness as much when I am _down_, as when\nI am _up_--when misfortune glowers upon me, as when fortune smiles. It\nis so easy to interpret our material good as a proof of God's favor, and\nour material ill as a sign that He is displeased with us. Those who went\nto Jesus and asked, when the tower of Siloam fell and killed eighteen:\n'Were they not sinners above all others because this thing happened to\nthem?' are not without their myriads of counterparts in the world\nto-day. When a man strikes a new gusher in an oil region, or a good\nflow of water in a desert country, or his grainfield gives him seventy\nbushels to the acre, it is easy enough to believe that Providence is\nsmiling upon him, and, therefore, his faith is strong and unquenchable.\nI have enough of that kind of faith. I can radiate that without an\neffort or thought. But I desire above all things to radiate a like sure\nand definite faith when my neighbor strikes a gusher and I do not; when\nmy _enemy_ finds a fine flow of water and _my_ crops are being\nparched--I want as strong a sense of contentment when Fortune _smiles\nupon the other fellow_, as when it smiles upon me.\"\n\nThis leads to another practical radiance. It is that of absolute\ncertainty that things do not _happen_. There is no such thing as a\n\"happenstance\" in the world.\n\n\"Nothing happens,\" is a word often on my inner lips. There is no evil,\nno wrong, no misfortune to the man who consciously lives with power ever\nsurrounding him. In our short-sightedness, we dream, we think of evil,\nor ill, or wrong, or misfortune, but if our faith's eyes were always\nopen, we should see nothing but good--and that all circumstances are\ngood in their ultimate results upon us.\n\nSome years ago I met a lady who possessed this spirit of radiant\ncheerfulness, and yet she was in a sanitarium and had undergone several\nsevere surgical operations.\n\nIn conversation with her, I learned that some years before she had found\nherself afflicted with a tumor in her breast. The surgeon said that\nnothing but the knife would remove it. This seemed almost like a\nsentence to death, and my friend and her husband, children, and friends\nwere deeply saddened by the necessity. They all went through a period of\ndeep gloom, of darkness, of despondency. Then there came to her the idea\nthat it was contrary to Nature that she and her loved ones should waste\ntheir time, energy, and strength in such repining and sorrow. She\nremembered the words, \"Be careful for nothing, but in everything by\nprayer and supplication make your requests known unto God,\" and then\nthere came to her the joy of the promise that followed: \"And the peace\nof God which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds\"\nin what is sure to be the spirit of peace and love.\n\nSo she began to look upon the duty of cheerfulness. She soon saw that it\nwas the only path for her to walk in. The operation was performed. It\nwas serious, and for three years she and her loved ones had to struggle\nhard to be cheerful and optimistic. But the results more than repaid for\nthe efforts expended, for, when at the end of the three years, the\ntumor again appeared, even more serious in character, and she had to go\nto the hospital again, she found that, after the first few dark hours, a\ngreat peace stole over her whole being, and as a result of her cheerful\nradiancy, her husband and children were \"adorably cheerful and loving.\"\nShe has since said:\n\n\"I went to the hospital feeling sure that I could find peace in\nsuffering, pleasure in pain, contentment through it all. When I was put\nupon the operating table this sense of peace and content and lack of\nfear enabled me to take the anesthetic easily, and after the operation\nwas over, when the pain was terrible, to fight my battle with a happy\nheart. I faltered a little once or twice when the pain seemed to pile\nmountains high during the first few days, but when my nurse found that I\nmeant to make the best of everything, she took hold in the right way\nwith a spirit of determination to help me, so it was not long before I\nreally seemed to rise, by means of the very mountains of pain that at\nfirst appeared as if they would overwhelm me, to summits of joy, content\nand satisfaction I could not have known without them.\n\n\"As I looked out of the windows, the trees seemed to be putting forth\ntheir leaves in richest beauty all _for me_. The birds--the robins and\nbluebirds--seemed to come and sing _for me_. The air grew daily more\nbalmy and sweet, and as I contemplated these things, I found even the\ntremendous noises of switching cars and the disagreeable sounds of the\nengine, combined with the racket of the wagons that came rattling over\nthe cobble-stones, came to be quite bearable. Peace and joy were in my\nheart. I was content, full, satisfied.\"\n\nAnd she certainly looked it. She was a radiating reservoir of these\nglorious and uplifting qualities. How could she be otherwise? So, with\nthis woman's experience in mind I again urge you to be cheerful. Be\nhappy. Acquire _the habit of the effort_. It soon grows easy. Believe\nimplicitly in the power of Good--and that the apparently bad is contrary\nto Nature's laws and wishes (being a result of some transgression or\nignorance), and that whatever happens is good, for it works out for the\nbest in the end.\n\nAnd now, to conclude, or as our preacher friends say, \"one more word.\"\nIn my radiancy or cheerfulness, I want to remember to radiate all the\ntime and to all people. It is easy enough to be cheerful in the presence\nof our superiors and with our companions and equals. But I notice that\nit is a very different matter with many people to be cheerful with those\nwhom society and the world call their inferiors--the elevator boy, the\nbell boy, the valet, the chambermaid, the clerk, the stenographer, the\nlaborer, the coachman, in other words, all those whom we call\n\"servants.\" Many people feel that they are not under any obligation to\nbe cheerful to them, but, oh, what a joy they miss, what a privilege\nthey throw away. Why not especially radiate cheerfulness to the fullest\npossible extent to those who have less of this world's goods than\nourselves? Why not help them bear the burdens of life by your radiant\noptimism? Let your cheerfulness be real, sincere, honest, manly. Try to\nconcern yourself in their interests and understand somewhat of the\nbattles they have to fight. It does not take up much time or require\nmuch effort. It is the _spirit_ of the thing that is felt and that\ncounts. So, be cheerful at all times and radiate your cheerfulness to\nall sorts and conditions of men. Thus you will go through the world\nleaving a blessed path of sweetness, brightness, and sunshine behind you\nwhich will illuminate, cheer, and bless all who walk therein.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nRADIANCIES OF MORAL COURAGE\n\n\nI want to radiate moral courage. Who that has read the life of Emerson\ncannot appreciate the moral courage that controlled him at all times. He\nwas incapable of cowardice. Timid, sensitive as the most delicate plant,\nshrinking from notoriety, he yet did and said things that brought down\nupon him the censure and concentrated fury and hatred of thousands. He,\nso gentle and kind, spoke words that hit and smashed and crashed through\nthe entrenched ideas of the world like red-hot cannon-balls. Though\nnever a politician, he spoke words on the principles involved in the\nslavery question that surpassed in fervid eloquence and effective power\nanything ever said by Wendell Phillips or William Lloyd Garrison. On one\noccasion he faced a mob of fiery sympathizers with the other side and\ndeclared the highest, purest truths of the brotherhood of man, and when\nremonstrated with for daring such an assemblage he calmly and quietly\nreplied: \"Had I been dumb, I would have gone and muttered and made\nsigns.\"\n\nWhen men worshiped certain ideas and believed that they were religion,\nand that it was needful to believe them in order to live aright on earth\nand win the favor of a heavenly hereafter, Emerson arose and smote them\ninto the dust by the calm, relentless, passionless logic of one who sees\nand knows--the divinely ordained prophet--and one result of his daring\nwas that he was cast out from his pulpit and from the sweet and hallowed\ncommunion he and his grandfathers for eight past generations had enjoyed\nin the church. What a wrenching of heart strings, what a tearing away of\nold ties, what an isolation of oneself, what a bringing down of the\navalanche of abuse, of slander, of harsh words and unkind deeds! Yet he\nnever hesitated. The oversoul called to the sacrifice, and at the same\ntime pointed to the recompense of the spirit, and he never saw, never\nknew, never felt the contumely, the scorn, the ostracism, the abuse.\n\nIs it not glorious to live in such a realm of high spiritual courage? To\ndo unconsciously? To _be_ unconsciously? Not to have to work your\ncourage up to the daring point; to nerve yourself for the plunge, but to\nplunge anyhow, trusting, knowing that in doing the highest, the noblest,\nthe best thing conceivable to you, you can never fail? What does\nstarvation of the body mean to the man whose soul is uplifted into the\npresence of the Most High? Such an one can live for forty days or forty\nyears, if necessary, without more food than would feed a sparrow. What\ndoes isolation from his fellows--preachers, doctors, lawyers, every-day\nmen and women--mean to a man who communes daily with angels, archangels,\nand with God Himself? Does he feel slighted, hurt, neglected? Such a\ncourage as this I myself desire, so that I may live it, radiate it every\nmoment.\n\nIt was this courage that made John Brown march on that most quixotic of\nall marches--with a handful of men to free the slave. It was rebellion,\nanarchy, unlawful invasion, the breaking of man's law--of course it was.\nBut he saw a higher vision than man's outlook, he felt a higher call\nthan man's demand, and he knew no law of man in the obedience of his\nsoul, body, life, _his all_, to the call of the Spirit. And though a\nrude Kansas pioneer and farmer, he had the soul-courage to obey.\nForward! March! He marched to his death!\n\nDid he? No! He marched to the death of his body, but he began a\ntriumphant march in the heavens forever brilliantly illuminating the\nminds and souls of men, and lifting them up into a higher state of life,\nmaking them less sordid, less afraid of position, life, honor, less\neasily influenced by the keen censure and scorn of the blind world.\n\nTalk about battlefields and batteries, forts and forlorn hopes and the\ncourages of the Charge of the Light Brigade, or of the Stand of the Old\nGuards at Waterloo, or of Dewey sailing into Manila Harbor; what were\nthose acts of physical courage compared with the moral heroism that\nleads a man to dare the stake, the cross, or the tortures of the bigot?\nRead Mark Twain's _Life of Joan of Arc_, and feel your heart throb to\nthe high-souled, divinely inspired courage of that girl of eighteen; not\nonly physical courage, as when she led, in person, the charges of the\nFrench army against the English, who had been victorious in France for\nalmost a hundred years, but when she dared the great ecclesiastical\ncourts that badgered and baited her, as she sat unaided, alone,\nunbefriended, undefended, unadvised by man, for weeks at a time, when\nthe cowardly hounds were determined to send her to the stake. Where did\nher heroism and courage come from that she, a mere country peasant\nchild, who had never even ridden a horse, or seen a battlefield, who\nnever had read a book, or knew the first thing of guiding and\ncontrolling soldiers, or setting an army in battle array; I say, where\ndid her courage come from, that she could dare to go into the proud\npresence of nobles and warriors and demand that they give her a guard to\ntake her to the King of France, where she assured him that she would\nsoon drive out the English and have him duly crowned king of his\nreconquered provinces? Here was the radiant life in actual, potent\nexercise. She radiated courage and faith, just as the sun radiates\nheat--in such abundance that men sweated with it, men were fired to the\nintense heat and fervor of new life and courage with it. So that, from a\ncowed, disheartened pack of whipped men, who fled from the mere sound of\napproach of a small body of English soldiers, raw recruits, as well as\nseasoned veterans, shouted to be led against the foe, and when once in\nthe conflict hammered away regardless of wounds, even of death, until\nvictory was theirs.\n\nWhence came this radiant courage and power? It was simply because she\ndared to listen to the voices speaking to her soul, and _nothing else\ncounted_. That's the life I want to get hold of. That is the courage and\nthe life I wish to radiate. Afraid of men, of starvation, of opposition,\nof censure, of hatred, of ostracism? No! Why should we be afraid to lose\na few cents, when our hands are filled with diamonds, and rubies, and\npearls, and nuggets of gold? Why should we fear men, when we have the\ncourage of our convictions?\n\nLet us look not down, but up, and seek to draw from the heavens above\nthe inspiration, the courage, the bravery, the heroism of the soul.\n\nThere has recently passed away in despotic Russia a man whose life for\nyears has radiated moral courage throughout the world. Tolstoi had the\ncourage of his convictions. He felt that social distinctions were\nwrong. Immediately he did the practical thing--put himself on the plane\nof every common laboring man by personally becoming a tiller of his own\nsoil. \"What a fool!\" exclaimed the aristocratic world to which, by\nbirth, he belonged. \"Does he think he can change our opinions by that\nsilly act?\" they cried. No! He knew it would have little or no effect on\nthem, but he was compelled to clear his own soul. So he braved their\nlaughter and scorn, their contumely and contempt, that the world might\nknow for certain what he really did think and feel.\n\nHe came to the conclusion that the Government of Russia, and the conduct\nof the ministers of the Greek Church--the established church of\nRussia--were neither in conformity with true religion nor true\nbrotherhood. Though the former was despotic, and the latter as\n\"hide-bound and dogmatic as rigid adherence to dead forms and creeds\never makes men,\" he fearlessly expressed his inmost convictions against\nboth and called upon them to change, reform, amend their ways and\nactually become what they professed to be. The state threatened him with\nSiberian banishment unless he kept silence, but never till death\nsilenced him did he heed the threatening command; the church cast him\nout, and then he wrote a book, _My Religion_, that gave newer and more\nexalted conceptions of religion to the world, even though possibly it\nwould be hard to find a single man who accepts everything just as\nTolstoi set it forth in that book.\n\nHe came to the decision that the fine clothes and luxurious surroundings\nof the rich and noble were neither Christian nor humane. They caused\nenvy and bitterness in the hearts of those whose lives were one long\nstruggle with poverty. So at once he cast off his gorgeous apparel,\ndenuded his own rooms of all unnecessary and elaborate furnishings, and\nthus, again and further, placed himself where men could feel the truth\nand power of his utterances about human brotherhood.\n\nWhen Russia declared war against Japan, Tolstoi wrote a letter to the\nEmperor, the state officials, and the Russian people that was a loud\ntrumpet blast heard throughout the world calling upon them in the name\nof their Creator and down-trodden humanity to stop! and declare peace.\nMany a man had been sent to Siberia for life--nay, sent to be speedily\ntortured to death--for far less than this, but this fearless old man let\nhis voice ring out with a power that convinced thousands as never before\nthat war at its best was but a relic of barbarism and a disgrace to\nevery professedly progressive nation.\n\nOh, for a courage like Tolstoi's--true-hearted, brave, simple-minded,\npure, that never failed when called upon. Granted he was \"queer,\"\n\"quixotic,\" \"unbalanced,\" \"impracticable,\" was not his queerness and\nimpracticability at least on the side of the moral forces of the world?\nEverybody knew where and how he stood; where his sympathies were; and\nhis life has strengthened the backbone and put new vigor into the weak\nknees of hundreds of thousands, for moral courage radiates with power\nthat increases according to the square of the distance. It does not grow\nless; it enlarges; for each man who feels it becomes a new generator and\ntransformer and thus enlarges and increases its radiating power four-,\neight-, twelve-fold.\n\nHenry Bergh was another of these heroic moral-courage radiators. His\ntender heart was cut to the quick day by day by seeing the cruelties\nperpetrated upon the poor dumb brutes of the city of New York. He\ndetermined to do what he could to stop these barbarous practices. He\nagitated and wrote, spoke and interviewed until he succeeded in getting\nordinances and acts passed which gave him power to prevent whatever\ncruelties he saw. How he was jeered; how he was cursed, when he sought\nto interfere with a brutal driver who would cruelly whip his horses to\ncompel them to drag loads beyond their strength! The newspapers said he\nstood in the way of business, and they sarcastically called him \"the\nknight of the doleful countenance,\" not realizing that it was the\ncruelties perpetrated by so-called men upon their younger brothers--the\ndumb animals--that had so frozen the pain and anguish of his heart upon\nhis face. But his heart never failed, his courage never wavered.\nThreatened, mobbed, his life often in peril, he fearlessly waged\nconstant warfare against cruelty, and to-day the very city that hated\nand scorned him is building monuments to his honor in every\nstreet-watering trough they erect. And his radiant influence has reached\nevery civilized city _in the world_, such is the penetrating radiancy of\na loving and true heart.\n\nBefore I proceed to a further consideration of this radiancy of a\nlarge-hearted, moral heroism, I want to answer the objection raised to\nwhat I have already written by a young man to whom I read it. He said:\n\"But I am not an Emerson, or a Wendell Phillips, or a John Brown, or\nTolstoi. What chance do I have of exercising moral courage?\"\n\nA very pertinent question, and one I am glad to try to answer. I do not\nbelieve there was ever a man, a time, or a place which did not,\nsometime, somehow, call for the exercise of moral heroism. And\nespecially in these days of lax principle, breaking down of old\nstandards, political graft, and worship of material success. What\nminister is there in no matter what church who is not called upon, now\nand again, nay, often, to speak fearlessly upon some practical subject\nupon which people are looking for light? Is he a moral hero who taboos\nsuch subjects, who refrains from discussing them in the pulpit because\nthey are not \"gospel\" subjects? What gospel subject can surpass in\ninterest and in human and divine appeal to the soul of man the\n\"white-slave\" question, and a host of other subjects upon which ordinary\nwell-to-do men and women need enlightenment? That minister is endowed\nwith the radiant power of moral courage who, even though he offend some\nof the smug, comfortably righteous members of his congregation, dares to\ndenounce the church people who rent their houses and lands for immoral\npurposes, for breweries, for saloons, for any and all things that\ndestroy men's bodies and souls and bring suffering to innocent women and\nchildren. Take the child-labor question, especially in the communities\nwhere men live who have become rich by using child labor, whether in\ncotton factories, glass factories, tobacco, or any other factories.\nShould not such men hear the gospel plainly and without equivocation?\nWho is to give it? The minister of the Christ who came to seek and save\nthe down-trodden, the injured, the forsaken, the lost. Then all honor to\nthe man who dares to speak out, dares to be true to the inward voice,\nthough he lose caste, position, salary.\n\nThe same courage is required of the politician. How often the public\nclamor for, or against, the very opposite of that which is right. In\nCalifornia a few years ago there was a great fight for the exclusion of\nthe Japanese and Chinese. How about the doctrine of the brotherhood of\nman? Can we play fast and loose with eternal principles? No! Let the\ntrue politician stand by the truth and let the poltroon sacrifice his\nprinciples for temporary advancement and gain.\n\nThere is not an employee who at some time or another is not called upon\nto exercise moral courage. Some are asked to do dishonest, mean,\ndisreputable, contemptible things--for their employers. Some have one\ntemptation, some another. Stand firm for the highest truth. Be morally\nbrave and courageous. Dare to refuse. Dare to risk losing your job\nrather than your character. Dare to be poor rather than mean.\n\nOne of the great temptations of men and women to-day is to appear better\noff than they are. We are all as good as everybody else--so we say--and,\ntherefore, we must dress as well, dine as well, live as well, and show\noff as much. What is the result in many cases? Financial worry or\ndisaster at best; criminality at worst. For many a man to-day is in the\npenitentiary because he and his wife did not have the moral courage to\ndare to live within their income; she did not dare to wear her\nlast-year's hat, or a made-over gown, and he did not dare say No! when\nshe insisted upon having new and expensive things, or would not deny\nhimself when his \"set\" indulged in an expensive pastime which he could\nnot afford. Oh, the pity of it! Let your courage have a chance to grow.\nPlant the seeds of moral heroism early, so that when the testing time\ncomes you will find the tree already grown to which you can cling.\n\nEvery boy and every girl--no matter how young--has times when\ntemptations come which it requires moral courage to resist. Better teach\nyour boy the duty, pleasure, and benefit of this resistance than have\nhim win every other prize of excellent scholarship. Are you radiating\nsuch courage so that your children feel it? That they are influenced by\nit? Happy you, if you are, for it will return to you in the beauty,\nstrength, nobility, and grandeur of your boy's, your girl's, life in\nafter days to your benediction and joy.\n\nThe world is cold for want of moral courage. Turn on the radiator. Call\non the great source for a full supply and help make the world warm with\nthe heroism, the bravery, the moral courage it needs.\n\nPossessed in any degree, however small, of this heroism of the soul, I,\nmyself, want to radiate the consciousness that my _natural and proper\nplace is in the forefront of every movement that makes for human\nprogress_. Most men are laggards in human progress. Of comparatively\nonly a few is it said in such things: \"He is abreast of his times.\" Of\nonly the less than few--the solitary, the individual soldiers--is it\nsaid: \"He is ahead of his times.\" Here I want to find my place. These\nare the men and women with whom I would stand. And I would so radiate\nthe spirit of advancement and progress that every awake and alert soul\nand also every quiescent and sleeping soul will feel and know it when we\ncome in contact.\n\nIn November, 1910, there was held in the city of Chicago an anniversary\ncelebration of the life and work of Theodore Parker, a New England\nCongregational clergyman who lived from 1810 to 1860. When professional\nphilosophers, reformers, and preachers were discussing, in an academic\nfashion, the question of human freedom, while under our banner of\nprofessed \"human rights for all,\" the shackles were on the hands of four\nmillions of slaves, while professional statesmen were temporizing with\nthis iniquitous system and proposing compromises, all of which affected\nslave owners, and none of them made the slave free, Theodore Parker, in\nseason and out of season at times appropriate and inappropriate, was a\nflaming firebrand of passionate utterance against the hideous hypocrisy\nof our national pretense while the rattle of these shackles was in our\nears. It was nothing to him that the solid South was against him; it was\nof no weight to him that many of the \"respectable moneyed men\" of New\nEngland were engaged in the slave trade, and that \"practical men of\naffairs\" counseled moderation, toleration, and caution in dealing with\nso \"delicate\" a subject. He saw only the horrible facts of human\nslavery, and that this slavery existed in a land on whose national\nbanner were inscribed the words: \"We believe it to be a self-evident\ntruth that _all men_ are created free and equal,\" and the only delicacy\nhe felt was that the national conscience should be aroused to its\nhypocrisy, self-deceit, inconsistency, and dishonor, and that the\nslave-holding and slave-trading business should cease in this \"land of\nthe free and home of the brave.\" We, to whom the Emancipation\nProclamation has been familiar ever since its promulgation, cannot\nconceive the terrible stir, the bitter antagonism, the fierce hostility\nParker's clear and ringing words caused at the time of their utterance.\nIn vain his fellow-preachers begged him to be more cautious, to adopt a\nmore conciliatory tone. Like Campanello, who took a bell for his crest,\nand for his motto the words, \"I will not keep silent,\" he quietly but\nfirmly, calmly but resolutely, refused, and rang out all the louder and\nmore insistently his call to the drugged conscience, sleeping honor, and\ndeadened humanities of his fellow citizens. It was he who inspired in\nLincoln that memorable phrase made forever world-famed by his glorious\nGettysburg speech: \"Government of the people, by the people, for the\npeople.\" Lincoln spoke November 19, 1863. Parker had written in\nNovember, 1846, these words:\n\n    Let the world have peace for five hundred years, the aristocracy of\n    blood will have gone, the aristocracy of gold will have come and\n    gone, that of talent will also have come and gone, and the\n    aristocracy of goodness, which is the democracy of man, the\n    government _of_ all, _for_ all, _by_ all, will be the power that is.\n    Democracy is direct self-government over all the people, by all the\n    people, for all the people.\n\nBy way of parenthesis, it is interesting here to add that in _The\nChristian_ (a London, England, weekly paper), for September 17, 1910,\nthere was a letter giving an even earlier use of the phrase, as follows:\n\n    SIR: In your report of Principal Carpenter's striking speech at\n    Budapest, you cite his reference to the well-known fact that \"It was\n    from Parker that Abraham Lincoln borrowed his famous phrase,\n    'Government of the people, for the people and by the people.'\" But\n    the further fact should be remembered that Parker himself borrowed\n    it--doubtless through his perusal of the current _Monthly\n    Repository_--from Rev. Robert Aspland, our once-famous Hackney\n    minister. It occurs in Mr. Aspland's speech at the great Whig\n    banquet of 1828, which celebrated the repeal of the Test and\n    Corporation Acts, and at which, amongst many distinguished speakers,\n    Mr. Aspland, by common consent, bore away the palm of eloquence.--AN\n    EX-M. P.\n\nThese facts in the history of a great phrase I am glad to present, but\nthe most important fact is not the name of the originator, but the names\nof the men who made the phrase live in the hearts of their fellows as\nbiting, stinging, awakening truths. Parker was one of these. Lloyd\nGarrison, Wendell Phillips, John G. Whittier, Lowell, John Brown,\nLovejoy, Lincoln, were others. And you and I, friendly reader, are\nto-day basking in the fuller and larger sunlight of freedom let into the\nhouse of our common humanity by the fearless, uncompromising, daring\ncourage of these men.\n\nLet us not be laggards in the army of human progress; nor content even\nto be abreast with the times. Let us be athirst for deeper waters,\nclearer streams. Let us get nearer the mountain top than either of these\ntwo crowds. Let us drink of the fountain spring itself and know nothing\nelse but the fundamental principles of human relationship, and, drinking\nof them to the full, go forth and radiate them in their original purity,\nsweetness, and power, diluted only by our imperfect human expression.\nLet us, in this and all similar matters, make the words of Browning\nours, that we may ringingly declare to the world as well as quietly\nradiate them:\n\n                            What had I on Earth to do\n    With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?\n    Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel--Being--who?\n    One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,\n    Never doubted clouds would break,\n    Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,\n    Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.\n\nLet us not merely come in for the rewards of life's conflicts in which\nthe few battle for the rights of the many. Let us be in the forefront of\nthe battle array; even if only as standard-bearers, or buglers, or\ndrummer boys in the forefront of the advance army, and though our hearts\nare often shaken by human cowardice, let our souls triumph and keep our\nfaces towards the foe, courage at fighting pitch, resolution\nindomitable, purpose invincible, so that, if fall we must, we shall fall\nwith eyes heavenward, and breast fearlessly exposed to the fire of the\nenemy.\n\nI know of no conflict now as severe as the fight for the abolition of\nthe slave, yet I am in the fight to help women gain the suffrage, and in\nthe temperance reform. I have been abused by my scientific friends as an\nanti-vaccinator and anti-vivisectionist; have been threatened with a\nthrashing several times for interfering with brutal teamsters and others\nwho were cruel to animals and children; have lost caste and position\n(with a few people) because I would rebuke corporate injustice, greed,\nand tyranny; I have cast behind me much money because it was offered me\nin exchange for my independence and freedom. These are small things as\ncompared with the heroic acts of the giants of past days, but they are\nthe deeds my soul has been called to face. And I mention them not in\nboasting, but as another \"declaration of principles,\" principles I wish\nto radiate on every hand, under all circumstances, to all people.\n\nFor I am anxious and determined that, according to the best of my\nability, I will do my share of the work of my time for the benefit of\nthe future. What would we be to-day without the advantages of Magna\nCharta, of the Bill of Rights, of the Declaration of Independence, of\nthe Emancipation Proclamation? Who won these charters of our liberty?\nThe heroes of the past. Then the questions I constantly ask myself are:\n\"What are you doing to add to these liberties to hand on to future ages?\nYou have received freely; how are you giving? I want to help make the\nfuture more glad and blessed, just as my present has been made glad by\nthe actions of the heroes of old. I have been inspired to high resolves,\nheroic endeavors, blessed ambitions by what they achieved. Am I doing\nanything to pass on these high inspirations to endeavor and ambition?\nThese men met obloquy, hatred, shame, contumely, contempt, danger,\nfinancial loss, physical peril, and in John Brown's, Lovejoy's, and\nother cases, death, because of their daring advocacy of unpopular\nmovements. Shall I be any the less a man than they? Shall I have\nreceived so much, and then be craven and pass on so little?\"\n\nI believe that each generation must pay interest _in kind_ on all their\nheritage of the past, or they mark the period of a nation's decline.\nUnless we are better, nobler, truer, more advanced, more free, more\nprogressive, more generous, more philanthropic, more daring, courageous,\nlion-hearted than our forefathers, we have defaulted in our interest.\nAnd defaulters are always cowards if nothing worse. Let us not be\ncowards.\n\nIn California there are strong movements against the Japanese and the\nChinese. It is easy to join the popular side, but it takes strength of\nheart and courage of mind and body sometimes to stand on the other side.\nI want to radiate my firm and unshakable conviction of the truth of\nhuman brotherhood, regardless of color, nationality, prejudice, or\nselfish and personal interest. Though the Japanese and Chinese, in open\nand honest business competition, take away my work, even then I want to\nradiate my firm belief in the _universal_ brotherhood of man. And I want\nto do it without hesitation, as well as without fear. Hesitation too\noften means temporizing, evasion, shuffling, and I do not want to place\nmyself open to any temptation to these things. Hence I would be prompt\nand outspoken in my adherence and advocacy of the fundamental principles\nof human brotherhood regardless of personal consequences and indifferent\nalike to praise or blame.\n\nI believe in human democracy, in human freedom, in the equality of men\nand women; in morality, government, and household control; in resisting\nall tyrannies, whether of law, medicine, theology, or society; in the\nuplift of all the criminal and downtrodden; in the fair division of the\nprofits of all labor; in the jealous preservation of the independence of\nevery man and every woman; in the right of every child to be well born\nand welcomed, and of every woman to determine, without dictation from\nany one, whether she shall bear a child or not; in the abolition of all\nwar; in the disarmament of all nations; in the abolition of land\nmonopoly; in submitting every question to the test--the greatest\npossible good to the greatest number. These, as I now recall them, are\nthe cardinal principles of my belief, my adherence to which I would\nfearlessly, without hesitation or equivocation, ever and always\nradiate.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nRADIANCIES OF CONTENT AND DISCONTENT\n\n\nI want to radiate a spirit of content. The dictionary says that to be\ncontent is to be \"held full.\" If one is full, that is enough. He is\nsatisfied. He has peace of mind. All this is implied in the word\ncontent. I want to radiate this sense of fullness, of satisfaction. I\nwant people to feel that I am full of physical health, full of mental\nvigor, full of spiritual power, and, with the exceptions that I shall\nnote later on in this chapter, that I am satisfied.\n\nI want to radiate a large-hearted contentment with things as they are. I\nam content with the world as it is. Its glories, its beauties, its\ncharms, its allurements, its variety, satisfy me. There is nothing in\nscenery that the mind can conceive that I cannot find; every sort of\nclimate is offered to me. I can surround myself with people or I can\ndwell in the virgin solitudes. I can live under the gray skies of the\nEast or under the cerulean blue of the West. The snow-covered heights of\nthe Himalayas are mine or the wastes of the Sahara. I can toss on the\nstormy ocean or bask in the sun-kissed gardens of the South. It is a\nglorious, beautiful, blessed world.\n\nYet I hear people complaining on every hand. It is too hot, or they wish\nit hadn't rained. Why does the wind blow so fiercely? The snow has just\ncome at the wrong time. Then, too, they find fault with the every-day\noccurrences of life. They are angry because they missed a train, have\nfailed to carry through a business transaction, were delayed and lost an\nimportant appointment. The other day I met a young man holding his\nwrist, and with a look of severe pain on his face. In doing some work in\nthe gymnasium he hurt his hand and wrist. It is hard to radiate\ncontentment under the annoyance and pain of such things as this and the\ncircumstances I have mentioned. Yet in these, as in all other things in\nlife, I believe with Shakspeare:\n\n    There is a Divinity that shapes our ends,\n    Rough hew them as we may.\n\nMany a time it is the best thing in the world to have lost an\nappointment, to have missed a train, to have sprained one's wrist. The\nwet weather is as good as the sunshine, and the storm equally beneficent\nwith the calm. Hence I want to be content and to radiate my content with\nthings as they are. Discontent is a burning acid. It eats away the\nhappy, blessed things of life. It destroys the beauty of an otherwise\nperfect life. It takes away the smile and substitutes a frown. It\ninjects bitterness into words that would otherwise be sweet. It changes\nthe kind word into an angry curse. And it burns and corrodes far deeper\nthan one imagines.\n\nI once had a surgical operation in which a severe corroding substance\nwas injected into a certain part of my body. My physicians, men of\nwisdom and men who loved me, thought they knew how much that corrosive\nsubstance would burn. But it burned far more severely and destroyed much\nmore tissue than they conceived, and my life came near to paying the\npenalty. Discontent works in exactly the same way, only worse. Its\nburnings are of the mind, and, therefore, more seriously injurious. Its\nburns are deep and uncertain. To put it in another way--it sours the\nmilk of human kindness. It turns the butter rancid. It pulls down the\nshades and shuts out the sunlight. It turns the steam off from the\nradiator. It shuts out the fresh air. It banishes the fairies of\njollity, healthfulness, happiness, and content.\n\nDo not radiate discontent, therefore, but radiate a glorious, buoyant,\nexuberant contentment. Think of the books we have to-day, as compared\nwith those possessed by people who lived a few hundred years ago--the\npoems, the dramas, the essays, the histories, the novels, the accounts\nof adventure and travel, the revelations of science. Think how cheap\nthey are, how easy to obtain. Think of the public libraries established\nin almost every city, town, and village of the civilized world. In many\nstates they have now established a method by means of which the library\nsystems may become county-wide in their influences instead of confined\nto the cities and towns. Books are being sent to the remotest farmhouse,\nto the shack of the lumberman, the moving home of the sheep-herder, the\nlog hut of the miner, anywhere, everywhere that a human hand is seen\nstretched forth for a book, the new library system seeks to reach.\n\nThink of the music of to-day! The great bands, the marvelous orchestras,\nthe soul-inspiring choruses, the wonderfully equipped opera companies,\nthe cheapness of the organ and piano, the universality of the\ngraphophone, with its records of music of every character that can be\nheard in the humblest home.\n\nThink of the multiplication of the opportunities for hearing the drama,\nsome good, some indifferent, some bad, but all more or less revealing\nartistic power and calling forth the satisfaction of the onlookers.\n\nThink of the spread of educational opportunities, the public schools,\nthe colleges, the universities, the correspondence schools, the women's\nclubs and leagues. I went through a high school the other day that was\nten times better equipped for the higher education, as far as it went,\nthan the universities were a hundred years ago.\n\nThink of the ease with which we travel--electric cars, railway trains,\nautomobiles, flying machines.\n\nThink of the annihilation of distance in conversing with our friends,\nthe telephone, the telegraph, the telepost, the wireless.\n\nThink of the opportunities of enjoyment and education offered to the\npoor in our large cities by means of the parks, the children's\nplaygrounds, the free museums, and the art galleries.\n\nThink of the improvements during late years in the conditions of home\nlife--the application of gas and electricity for lighting, heating,\ncooking, ironing, and, now, even for sweeping and cleaning up.\n\nThink of the improvements of the condition of lives of our farmers and\ntheir laborers in the remote districts. Little by little the conditions\nof life are being made easier for them. Labor is being lightened and the\nhours shortened, uncertainties are being eliminated, results made more\nsure.\n\nThink of the growing spirit of freedom and true democracy, of\nbrotherhood and comradeship that are welding the world together in the\nbonds of humanitarian brotherhood; treaties between nations,\nfederations of nations, world's fairs, the Red Cross movement, The Hague\nPeace Tribunal, arbitration instead of war, and agitation for the\nreduction of armies and navies.[D]\n\n[D] This was written prior to the breaking out of the war of 1914-15,\nwhen \"hell was let loose in Europe.\" Yet I do not feel inclined to\nchange one single line of what I then wrote. During 1915, I was engaged\nspeaking daily to large audiences at the Panama-Pacific Exposition in\nSan Francisco--I estimate that I addressed not less than 300,000 people\nduring that time. In many of these addresses I expressed my thoughts\nabout the hideousness, the needlessness, the waste, the devilishness of\nwar, with open frankness, and without a single exception my\ndenunciations of the system of war were received with hearty applause. I\nrefer to this merely as an index as to what I believe is the general\nthought of all intelligent people on the subject. All except war-mad and\nwar-hypnotized people hate war and desire to see it abolished, and the\nhigher standards of brotherly and amicable conference and equitable\nadjustment of difficulties take its place. That nations were urged into\nthe European conflict is no proof that they love war. It is rather a\nproof that they hate war enough to die to make future wars impossible.\nThis, I sincerely hope and confidently expect, will be the tendency of\nthe result, if not an actually accomplished result.\n\nOne has but to study the changes that have taken place in our\ncivilization since Dickens began to write, for instance, to see how\nwonderfully the world has progressed. He wrote _Nicholas Nickleby_ to\ncall attention to the horrible abuses existent in boys' boarding\nschools, where boys, who for any reason were desired out of the way at\nhome, were put in charge of human fiends in the guise of\n\"schoolmasters.\" Step-children, heirs who were in the way, natural\nchildren, and those whose parents had no natural affection for them,\nwere put into these dens, and so cruelly abused that they often died;\nand at the best they dragged out their miserable existence afraid of\nwhat each hour of the day might bring forth and finding only in their\ntroubled sleep the relief from the active cruelties they were made to\nbear.\n\n_Little Dorrit_ graphically pictured the horrors of the \"prison for\ndebt\" system, and in the wonderfully painted character of Little\nDorrit's father, Dickens showed how every human trait and feeling, every\nnoble passion and emotion was dwarfed, twisted, distorted, and perverted\nby the action of this unnatural, cruel, and monstrous law.\n\n_Barnaby Rudge_ called equally vivid attention to the laws which placed\npolitical disabilities upon Jews and Roman Catholics, rendering them\nincapable of voting and holding office throughout the British dominions,\nand sought to remove the hatred, prejudice, and dissensions which\nunnatural acts of Parliament always caused.\n\nIn _A Tale of Two Cities_ the curse of caste is revealed; the inevitable\nresults of giving special privileges to a so-called aristocratic class,\nand while its teachings were veiled as being connected with incidents in\nthe French Revolution they were a wonderful help to the forwarding of\ntrue ideas of pure democracy and genuine recognition of the doctrine of\nthe brotherhood of man.\n\nIn _Martin Chuzzlewit_ the theme is the horrors of the \"Circumlocution\nOffice\"--that vast, hideous, monstrous juggernaut that rode rough-shod\nover all justice, truth, honor, right, decency, and sincerity, by its\nevasions, quibblings, dodgings, twinings, twistings, and deliberate\nperversions of the truth.\n\nOther writers made their novels the themes of similar crying abuses that\nneeded reform. Henry Cockton wrote his _Valentine Vox the Ventriloquist_\nto expose the hideous dealings of private mad-houses, where helpless men\nand women were confined by law, who were perfectly sane, yet who were in\nthe way of dishonest lawyers, judges, administrators, heirs, or\nrelations. I can never forget the powerful and terrible impression this\nstory made upon me, though it is nearly forty years since I read it,\nespecially where the author described what it is said he himself had had\nto pass through, when he was driven into temporary insanity by being\nstrapped to his cot while fiends in human form mocked and taunted him\nand at the same time \"tickled his feet\" until he was a raging maniac.\n\nTo the people of to-day the term \"Chartist\" means nothing. Nine-tenths\nof the population of the United States possibly never heard the term.\nYet it is only a few generations since men were sentenced to \"Botany\nBay\" and other penal settlements for twenty, thirty, and more years,\nand sometimes \"for life,\" for joining in this reform which demanded\ncertain rights that _we_ have enjoyed without a thought ever since we\nwere born. One of these grand old warriors for man's greater freedom\nused to visit at my father's house when I was a lad. He was an\nintellectual giant who had won the honor and fame the world freely\naccords to those who do not take it by the throat too severely, and once\nin a while he could be induced to tell of the days of his earlier\nconflict;--how that he and his compeers fought for a repeal of the corn\nlaws--laws which made it almost impossible for a poor man to get\nbread--and for the right of a man to sell the products of his own labor\nfrom door to door to save himself from starvation. He was imprisoned and\nsentenced for a long term of years and while in prison wrote a poem of\ntremendous power and influence. How my heart burned to the old warrior,\nand I then and there declared that\n\n    I live to learn their story\n      Who've suffered for my sake,\n    To emulate their glory,\n      And to follow in their wake:\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    For the cause that lacks assistance,\n    For the wrong that needs resistance.\n\nThen, too, how I recall the fight for religious freedom in England--some\nof it before my time, but some of it under my own eyes, and in which I\nhad the joy of bearing a small part. The Lord George Gordon riots,\ndescribed by Dickens in _Barnaby Rudge_, were provoked by religious\nhostility. When I was a boy, no Jew or Catholic could hold office in\nEngland--I think I am correct. This act, passed in the reign of Charles\nII--I write from memory--was thus in operation for two hundred years;\ntwo hundred years of injustice, prejudice, fostering of religious hatred\nand separations. Yet Benjamin Disraeli made a great premier, and was one\nof the most brilliant statesmen of Europe, and the Howard family,\nCardinal Manning, and Cardinal Newman, all of whom were Roman Catholics,\nwere loved and revered on every hand for their enlightened patriotism\nand the help they gave to everything that had the welfare of England at\nheart. It was a glad day for England that saw the removal of the\ndisabilities from such good citizens as these, merely because they chose\nto exercise their perfect God-given right of freedom of choice in\nreligious belief. And still, even as late as the ascension to the throne\nof George V, son of King Edward, and grandson of that progressive and\nliberal-minded Queen, Victoria, there remained in the oath a hateful\nspirit of narrowness and intolerance against Catholic beliefs. Thirty to\nforty years previously Charles Bradlaugh was refused his seat in the\nHouse of Commons because he desired to \"affirm\" instead of \"taking the\noath.\" He was an \"unbeliever,\" and claimed his right to be such, and yet\nto take his seat as a representative of the people without being\ncompelled to swear to an oath in which he did not believe. He was fought\nan every hand, and with physical violence; yet he kept resolutely on\nwith the conflict, until I saw him myself, with joy, take his place\nbefore the speaker of the House, victorious. Yet I am not an unbeliever,\nnor do I accept Bradlaugh's conclusions as to God and the making of the\nuniverse. Nor is it necessary. Equally so it is not necessary that I\nshould attempt to force my ideas down his throat and if he refuse to say\nthat he swallows them should seek to keep him from exercising his\npolitical rights.\n\nTo us, living to-day, it seems impossible that a great civil war was\nnecessary ere the shackles were shaken from the limbs of four millions\nof slaves; it seems incredible that New Englanders as well as\nSoutherners were engaged in fostering the iniquitous slave trade--the\nmurderous trade in human flesh and blood. Grant everything the South\nclaims to-day as to the difficulty of handling the negro problem, that\ndoes not alter the fundamental principle of the Declaration of\nIndependence that \"all men are created equal; that they are endowed by\ntheir Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are\nlife, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.\" To us it seems incredible\nthat honest and honorable men, clear-sighted, clear-brained religious\nmen who knew the value of words and their meaning, could have so\nbefuddled their intellects, let alone their moral nature, as to dare to\nread these words and at the same time own slaves. Yet it was so, and not\nuntil the heroes whose work led ultimately to the Declaration of\nIndependence for the slave, called the Emancipation Proclamation, set\ntheir faces against this great iniquity, was anything done to mitigate\nits evils.\n\nHow well do I recall the endeavors of many Englishmen to induce the\nGovernment to interfere with the Turks and prevent further infliction of\nhorrible and murderous atrocities upon the Bulgarians and other subject\npeople, because of religious differences. But \"politics stood in the\nway.\" And yet I heard the words of Cleveland ring around the world when\nhe bade England: \"Hands off,\" from Venezuela. Again was I thrilled when\nMcKinley justified the prophecy of Joaquin Miller, uttered nearly thirty\nyears previously, in his _Cuba Libre_, where he declared:\n\n    She shall rise, by all that's holy!\n    She shall live and she shall last;\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    She shall rise as rose Columbus,\n    From his chains, from shame and wrong--\n    Rise as Morning, matchless, wondrous--\n    Rise as some rich morning song--\n    Rise a ringing song, and story,\n    Valor, Love personified.\n    Stars and stripes espouse her glory,\n    Love and Liberty allied.\n\nThe time came when we \"flashed her lights of freedom,\" as we had done\nbefore, but this time there was an admixture of personal feeling in\nwhich the cry, \"Remember the _Maine_,\" bore a large part. Yet the main\nissue was raised, viz., the intervention of a strong power to prevent\nanother strong power from too seriously oppressing a confessedly weak\npower. This is a step in the right direction. The bully, whether in\nschool, in the street, in business, or among nations, should be taught\nthat his bullying is unsafe, and that if he must fight he must choose a\n\"fellow of his own size.\"\n\nWhile I do not close my eyes to the facts that nations are human and\nliable to err, I hail this as a great forward step, and was filled with\nrejoicing when the United States Government refused to accept any\nindemnity from China for its share of the expense of putting down the\nlast great Boxer Rebellion.\n\nIn our National and State governments there is a growing spirit of\nrighteous intervention. In his last presidential message, President Taft\nvoiced this spirit in his recommendation of an enlarged measure of\nprotection for railroad employees, and states and cities are moving\nmore rapidly than ever before in the enactment of laws and ordinances\nfor the protection of those least able to protect themselves.\n\nReforms in law procedure are progressing. In his 1910 message, President\nTaft thus spoke:\n\n    One great crying need in the United States is cheapening the cost of\n    litigation by simplifying judicial procedure and expediting final\n    judgment. Under present conditions the poor man is at a woeful\n    disadvantage in a legal contest with a corporation or a rich\n    opponent. The necessity for this reform exists both in United States\n    courts and in all state courts. In order to bring it about, however,\n    it naturally falls to the general government by its example to\n    furnish a model to all States.\n\nThis is a great step in the right direction. The honest and manly\nrecognition of a crying evil is often the beginning of its removal, and\nI sincerely hope to live to see the day when our laws, and legislative\nprocedure, will truthfully be equally for the poor and the rich.\n\nThe activity of the Federal Government in pursuing the nefarious\nmalefactors who are conducting the \"white slave traffic,\" is also a sign\nof marked improvement in affording protection to those who are helpless\nand often unable and incompetent to know what to do for their own\nwelfare.\n\nAnd how I hail with joy the movement so energetically furthered by Mr.\nBok, of the _Ladies' Home Journal_, the Bishop of London, the _Physical\nCulture_ magazine, _Collier's_, and others, for the education of the\nyoung of both sexes as to the sacred relations of sex and all they\nimply. The W. C. T. U. has done a little, the magazines and physical\nculture movement more, and now the better schools--such as the\nPolytechnic High School of Los Angeles, and the High School in Pasadena,\nCalifornia--are giving definite and specific instruction upon these\nmatters to boys and girls whose parents have been remiss in neglecting\nthis all-important part of their _home_ education and training.\n\nThe pure food bill is another step forward in our national progress; the\ngreat conservation movement and the work of the United States\nReclamation Service, which is providing means for irrigating the soil\nand thus rendering possible the establishment of thousands of homes on\nlands that otherwise would be arid and useless--these are gigantic\nstrides of advancement. The postal-savings bank and parcels post are\nalready facts, thus demonstrating that, little by little, the powers\nthat have controlled our Government, for the benefit of the few, instead\nof for all the people, and especially those who need such benefit the\nmost, are gradually losing their hold. Soon, let us hope, we shall have\nthe \"penny postage\"--one cent for a letter instead of two, as now. The\nextension of the eight-hour day law; the honest endeavors now being\nmade to give labor a fair opportunity to state its needs and\nrequirements and thus help bring oppressive employers to time, are also\nforward steps. Granted that labor often makes unreasonable and unjust\ndemands, let it not be forgotten that it is only within the last few\ndecades that they have been allowed to have a voice at all. For\ncenturies they have been \"chained to the wheel of labor,\"\n\n    The emptiness of ages in their face,\n    And on their back the burden of the world.\n\nWhat if, now that \"whirlwinds of rebellion\" are shaking the world and\nthese hitherto \"dumb terrors\" have found, or are finding, a voice, they\nspeak a little too loudly, or too harshly, or ask more than they ought?\nWhose fault is it? Who has kept them in bondage so long? They will\nlearn, by and by, to speak more rationally, but this will come only by\nspeaking, so I hail with delight the fact that \"the rulers and lords of\nall lands\" are recognizing their right to be heard, and are more or less\nrespectfully listening to what they have to say.\n\nIt is another grand sign of universal progress that the owners and\nlandlords of vile tenement houses, of the horrible kennels in which\nhuman beings in the past used to be penned as in pigsties, are no longer\nallowed to reap monetary rewards from such abominable and cursed holes.\nBoards of health, civic improvement bodies, tenement reform associations\nare taking upon themselves the work of protecting the poor, helpless,\nand often unfortunate dwellers in these plague spots and compelling that\nthey be made decent, healthful, and sanitary--often seeing that they are\nrazed and entirely removed. What though oftentimes the people who dwell\nin these places are brought thither by their own misconduct? Are men,\nwomen, and innocent children to be \"damned\" on this earth--as well as in\nthe future--because morally they have been weak and unfortunate? The\ngreater the weakness and the lower the fall, the greater the cry and\nneed for help. Jacob Riis was a brave and heroic leader in New York,\nWilliam Booth and his gallant army in London and the thousand and one\nother cities of the world, and the day is dawning when there will be no\n\"slums\" in any decent, self-respecting city, when such books as _How the\nOther Half Lives_, _The Submerged Tenth_, _If Christ Came to Chicago_,\nand _The People of the Abyss_ can no longer be written, for the\ntrue-hearted, loving, brotherly, and sisterly, will have been aroused to\ndo their plain, simple, and manifest duty and \"slums,\" \"abysses,\" and\n\"plague spots\" will cease to exist.\n\nThere are many other excellent things I might comment upon that help\nbring content to the soul. They betoken a glorious and blessed\nimprovement upon the \"days of things as they were\" and they should lead\nevery man to get into line, to find the step and keep it, marching on\nwith this vanguard of human progress, which seeks the best possible\ncondition of body, mind, and soul for all men.\n\nYet, in spite of this large-hearted contentment with things as they are,\nand with the way the world generally is progressing, which I would\nradiate, I would equally radiate a great discontent with many things as\nthey are. When I look at my own faults and failings, my inadequacies and\nincompetencies, my blindness and stupidity, my ignorance and\nwillfulness, I find much of my content disappear like the airy visions\nof a dream. I certainly do not want to be content with these things and\nso I call up as often as I can a mighty discontent which is a constant\nurge to the higher, nobler, truer, better life. I am as self-willed as\nother men, and yet I well know that human will is both ignorant and\nblind, and that only when it is made subject to the Great Controlling\nWill of the Universe will it lead me aright and in the paths of\nultimate, permanent success. And by success, I do not mean the paltry\nthing most men regard as success. I certainly wish to radiate discontent\nwith what men generally regard as success. Mere money, fame, honor,\nsocial distinction, count for little unless character, divine sympathy\nwith one's needy fellows, and an enlarged conception of the brotherhood\nof men accompany them.\n\nAnd how can I do other than radiate a large and tremendous discontent at\nthe suffering and woe of the unfortunates of life? It is little or\nnothing to me what causes their misfortune. I have learned that the\njudgment of sociologists, theologists, and reformers generally is of\nlittle account in interpreting the causes of things. As a rule, they\nlook only on the surface and see nothing of the hidden springs of action\nand therefore know little of the movement of hearts of men and women\nwhose condition they so complacently and conceitedly imagine they can\nchange.\n\nSome years ago, Jack London wrote a book entitled, _The People of the\nAbyss_. It was severely censured and criticised and some critics went so\nfar as to assert that it was full of untruths. It told of the dismal\nlives of London's poor, who daily find themselves with nothing but one\nmeal, two meals, three meals between themselves and starvation--poor\nwretches to whom the \"wolf at the door\" is an ever present reality, and\nwho tremble every time their employers look towards them with a frown or\nspeak with a voice that threatens dismissal. What a frightful,\npitiable, pathetic position for men and women--my brothers and\nsisters--to be in. I certainly do not wish to radiate contentment at the\nfact of their unfortunate condition. I want somehow to take some of\ntheir burdens upon my life. I want to realize something of the spirit\nthat led Walt Whitman to exclaim, \"I will take nothing for myself that\ncannot be given upon equal terms to all men.\"\n\nWhen I read the stories of child labor and learn of the many cruelties\npracticed upon helpless little ones, in the name of business; when I see\nthose boys and girls of tender age in the cotton mills of the South,\nowned by wealthy men of the North, plodding back and forth, hour by\nhour, behind the whirling spindles; when I see them, as I have often\ndone, so utterly weary that when the noon hour came, they would stretch\nout on the bare floor and try to gain a little snatch of forgetfulness\nof their weariness in sleep, rather than eat their inadequate lunch, I\nhave certainly felt, as I now feel, that I wish to radiate a tremendous\namount of discontent that such inhuman facts can exist. When I see the\nprivate palace car owned by the many-times millionaire, and catch\nglimpses of the extravagant and wasteful luxury in which he and his\nfamily live, and realize that this prodigal wastefulness is made\npossible by the life-destroying labor of poor, an\u00e6mic children in the\nglass-blowing factories of New Jersey, I wish I had the power to send a\ngreat wail of discontent through the country that would thrill the\nhearts, awaken the senses, and arouse the consciences of every man and\nwoman in the nation.\n\nWhen I realize the inadequacies of our legal system to do justice alike\nto all men and women, the poor as well as the rich, the innocent and\nconfiding as well as the crafty and cunning, I feel nothing but\ndiscontent and long for the time to come when justice and mercy shall be\nof higher value in the courts of our land than precedent and legal\nprocedure.\n\nIt often takes moral courage to radiate real living discontent with\nthese injustices and crimes against our needy and defenseless fellows. I\nlong to possess this moral courage in fullest measure, and to radiate it\non every hand. In view of the need for strong protest against the smug,\ncontented betrayers of the poor and needy, I would radiate a spirit that\nhas not inaptly been termed that of _contemporaneous protest and\nrebellion_. By this I mean that present spirit of protest and rebellion\nagainst wrongs that exist _now_, so that my protest will be\ncontemporaneous with the evil.\n\nIt is easy enough to line up with the winning side and shout Hurrah!\nwith the victors in any conflict. Even the English of to-day agree that\nthe American Revolution was a good thing and that the acts of George III\nwere indefensible tyranny. But it required considerable courage to join\none's forces with those of Washington when money was scarce and men few,\nwhen the day seemed dark and gloomy, and the prospects of success were\ndoubtful.\n\nIt is easy enough to-day to Hurrah! for the principles of Lincoln, but\nmany a great statesman like Henry Clay felt it was better to compromise\nthan face the fierce antagonism of such men as Calhoun, Jefferson Davis,\nand others who believed in the opposing ideas.\n\nWhat I desire with all my heart is to radiate not only my _readiness_\nand _willingness_ to line up with the unpopular cause, _but the fact\nthat I am already lined up_. That, without being asked, people will know\nwhat my position is sure to be; that I naturally belong on the side of\nthe \"under dog,\" and that in any conflict against entrenched power and\nwrong, where the weak and oppressed are fighting for rights which are\ninherently theirs, that as soon as I hear the battle-cry my \"HERE!\" will\nring out immediate, bold and clear.\n\nNor do I always want to wait to be called upon. I may not have either\nthe wisdom and discretion or the ability to be a leader and I have no\ndesire to thrust myself forward as such. At the same time, I do not want\nto be cowardly and hang back when I see that which I feel is inherently\nwrong. Even though I stand alone, I want to stand in protest and\ncontemporaneous rebellion against the wrong that I see.\n\nNay, further, I want to radiate as _my habitual attitude of mind_ that I\nam ever on the alert to _seek out opportunities for rebellion_ against\nany and all systems of wrong, no matter how powerful, that I may gladly\ntake upon my shoulders some part of the burden of helping forward the\nreal progress of the entire human race.\n\nJames Russell Lowell expressed the passionate desire of my heart in his\n_Present Crisis_. In that majestic poem he shows the need for this\ncontemporaneous rebellion:\n\n    Backward look across the ages, and the beacon-movements see,\n    That, like peaks of some sunk continent, jut through Oblivion's Sea;\n    Not an ear in court or market for the low foreboding cry\n    Of those Crises, God's stern winnowers, from whose feet Earth's chaff\nmust fly;\n    Never shows the choice momentous till the judgment hath passed by.\n    Careless seems the great Avenger; history's pages but record\n    One death-grapple in the darkness 'twixt old systems and the Word;\n    Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne,--\n    Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown\n    Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His own.\n\nThe whole poem is full of this passionate great-hearted, manly, God-like\nsympathy, _now_ and _here_, with the needy, the oppressed, the helpless\nof today. The crises are here now, those stern winnowers that test and\ntry men's souls, that discover whether they are wheat or chaff, ashes or\ngold. Oh, for men who have made already the \"choice momentous\"--while\nthe battle is raging, when there is danger, risk, peril, possible death\nin the conflict. Is he a true man who waits, pauses, hesitates, wavers\nin such conflicts, \"till the judgment hath passed by\"?\n\nI would radiate, again let me say it, my readiness to march at the sound\nof the drum, to advance with the front ranks, to fight at the first\nword.\n\nHistory affords us many noble examples and \"beacon lights\" of those who\nhave lived in accordance with the principles herein laid down.\n\nStephen Langton and the barons of England protested against the\ntyrannical power of King John. They did so at the peril of their heads.\nYet they were possessed of this spirit of contemporaneous rebellion, and\nthey fought against John and won from him that great charter of the\nliberties of men, that has been the basis of all proclamations of\nfreedom ever since.\n\nCromwell, Hampden, Pym, Milton, and the other great commoners and\ndemocrats of England were in a state of contemporaneous protest and\nrebellion against the undue pretensions of King Charles I. Their\nprotests might have cost them their lives--yet they protested. And they\nwon a victory that has made republics possible throughout all time.\n\nSo with the leaders of the French Revolution. There were many awful and\nbloody events connected with that great act of contemporaneous protest,\nbut that the ultimate outcome upon mankind has been good most\ntrue-hearted thinkers agree. Yet the protests were made by the earlier\nagitators under great danger.\n\nWhen Patrick Henry, Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Washington, and the\nother American revolutionists protested against King George's tyranny,\nand when the noble band met at Philadelphia and signed the Declaration\nof Independence, they knew they did it at the peril of their lives--yet\nthey protested and won for mankind the victory that Joaquin Miller calls\n\"Time's burst of Dawn.\"\n\nHad Langton, Cromwell, the French Revolutionists, Washington, and the\nsigners of the Declaration of Independence failed, they would all have\nforfeited their lives for their temerity. It was an act of great moral\ncourage to rebel.\n\nWhen Galileo rebelled against the dictum of the ecclesiastic authorities\nin regard to the movement of the earth, it meant his imprisonment, yet\nhe rebelled and thus ushered in a new day of advancement in astronomical\nknowledge. Darwin did the same. Both men required daring and courage,\nyet they did not hesitate or falter.\n\nThere are evils to-day that should be fought; fashions, customs,\nentrenched wrongs in existence _now_ against which manly men are called\nto be in contemporaneous rebellion. Those of us who live to-day are\nreaping great and blessed privileges, freedom, liberties, won for us as\nthe result of the protests, rebellions, warfares of the moral heroes of\nthe past; so should we further the progress of the world by protesting\nand fighting the existing wrongs, in order that future generations may\nbe freer than we are, and may push on still further the glorious chariot\nof human progress.\n\nHenry George was a recent heroic example of contemporaneous protest\nagainst current evils. Garibaldi, Mazzini, Victor Hugo, Kossuth, were\nall noble and inspiring examples of the like spirit. Ruskin's life was a\nperpetual protest against the sacrificing of beauty, peace, harmony, and\nbrotherhood for the rush and show of material prosperity. William\nMorris's life, work, voice, and pen were ever in active, open,\ncontemporaneous hostility and opposition to the damnable spirit of\nmodern competition, and demoralizing commercialism which destroyed\nartistic labor, banished fellowship, and substituted therefor the rule\nof the jungle where the strong devour the weak. Thank God! the ranks of\nthe morally courageous have always found glad and willing recruits; men\nwilling to spend and be spent for the benefit of humanity; willing to be\nrebels and accounted and treated as such that they might help gain\nlarger victories of freedom for their fellow-men.\n\nWe sometimes think that there was more moral heroism in the days gone by\nthan there is to-day. I do not believe it! In this matter of moral\nheroism and contemporaneous rebellion against entrenched wrong, we have\nmany fine and noble living examples on every hand. I could mention a\nhundred of them in as many minutes. A few must suffice.\n\nWhen Edwin Markham wrote _The Man with the Hoe_, he showed his spirit of\ncontemporaneous protest and rebellion. Here was no reflection upon labor\nor its dignity, as some thoughtless critics have affirmed, but it was a\ntremendous and powerful onslaught upon the \"Kings and Rulers of All\nLands\" who permit employers to chain the laborer to the \"wheel of\nlabor.\" Markham's poem is a direct challenge and throwing down of the\ngauntlet to those who contend that they have a right to purchase labor\nin the open market at any price, however demoralizing to mankind. It is\na contention that manhood is more than money; that the laborer is more\nthan the labor; and that the employers who value the labor done more\nthan the men who do the labor are unworthy the honor and respect of\ndecent men; are unworthy to be called real men because of their\ntyrannical abuse of their helpless brothers.\n\nWilliam Booth, president of the Salvation Army, Jack London, the\nsocialist novelist, Jacob Riis, the New York newspaper idealist, Maud\nBallington Booth, the leader of the Volunteers of America, Charles\nMontgomery, of San Francisco, the prisoner's friend, and Dana Bartlett,\nof Los Angeles, the brother of poor \"Dagoes,\" Portuguese and Mexicans,\nare all more or less widely diverse examples of contemporaneous\nrebellion and protest against existing social conditions. Each works in\nhis own way to ameliorate these conditions, but the work of each is a\nprotest against those laws of supply and demand, of competition, of\nworship of material things, that allow it to be possible that some men\ncan gain more wealth than they can ever utilize, even if they lived to\nbe ten thousand years old, and never earn another cent, whilst others\ncan earn barely enough to keep body and soul together and who live every\nday in dread of the future because they are capable of earning no more\nthan enough to keep them one, two, or three meals away from starvation.\n\nIn a copy of his book, _The People of the Abyss_, which Jack London sent\nto me, which truthfully portrays the life of the submerged tenth of\nLondon, he wrote something like this on the title page: \"Dear\nJames--With the facts of these pages before me, I may agree with you in\nyour favorite quotation from Browning, that 'God's in his heaven,' but I\ncannot agree with you that 'All's right with the world.'\"\n\nIt is the fashion with certain people to decry Jack London's socialism,\nbut I happen to know that he has personally sacrificed thousands of\ndollars to his principles in this matter, has lost the friendship of\nmany wealthy people who would have showered their gifts upon him had he\nbeen complacent towards what he calls \"predatory wealth,\" hence I hail\nhis acts of contemporaneous rebellion and his taking upon himself of the\nbattle for these, his weaker brothers and sisters, as heroic, and fully\nworthy of the highest esteem of all good men, whatever they may think of\nthe methods by which he would bring about the desired changes.\n\nAll through his life there has been a strong current of contemporaneous\nrebellion and belligerent sincerity in the work of the poet of the\nSierras, Joaquin Miller. He was brought up as a Quaker and taught to\nbelieve in non-resistance, hence he preached peace at the beginning of\nthe Civil War until his printing office was wrecked and his life\nthreatened. When the world at large was condemning the Indian, he went\nand stood by his side, and when he believed him to be in the right,\nfought battles on his behalf. All through his life he has boldly stood\nfor man's larger freedom, and against entrenched tyranny. When England\nmade war upon the Boers, he denounced the warlike and jingo politicians\nwith a power and strength seldom surpassed in poetry, in spite of the\nfact that the English had always been his best friends and the largest\npurchasers of his poems.\n\nWhile he lived in California, not far from San Francisco, and California\nwas a hotbed of the sentiment that demands the exclusion of the Chinese\nand Japanese, he ever fearlessly and in unmistakable terms denounced\nthis action as opposed to the fundamental principles of the fatherhood\nof God and the brotherhood of man, and demanded of his fellow citizens\nthat they adhere strictly to these never-failing and abiding truths.\n\nThese men are but few of the many I might mention, but they will serve\nas types. They have been and are willing to suffer for the general good\nof mankind. Therefore, in the presence of their moral heroism and\ncourage, let us cry with George Linn\u00e6us Banks:\n\n    I live to learn their story\n      Who've suffered for my sake,\n    To emulate their glory,\n      And to follow in their wake;\n    Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages,\n    The noble of all ages,\n    Whose deeds crowd history's pages\n      And Time's great volume make.\n\n    I live...\n    For the cause that lacks assistance,\n    For the wrong that needs resistance,\n    For the future in the distance,\n      And the good that I can do.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nRADIANCIES OF SINCERITY\n\n\nWe need more of the virtue of belligerent sincerity. What the world\nneeds to-day is bold, outspokenness for principle. It is not enough that\nwe hold principles in the quietude of our own homes and discuss them in\nthe sanctity of our bedrooms. We need a belligerent sincerity of\nfundamental principles in the mart, the store, in the counting house, in\nthe bank, on the board of trade, and the stock exchange. The tendency of\nmen in office and men in employment is to be subservient for the purpose\nof their own advancement. It is so easy to yield a principle to gain an\nincrease in salary or to win the support of a swaying party vote. In\nthis age of great aggregations of capital, when corporations are\nconducting gigantic enterprises, it is so easy for subordinates to place\nall the responsibility of conscience upon their chiefs and to refuse to\naccept responsibility for acts of which they themselves are the\ninstruments on the plea, \"I am but a servant and carry out the will of\nmy superior.\" Relentless crushing out of competitors, secretly securing\nrebates, unjust discrimination in discounts, the utilization of\nofficial information for personal advantage or that of one's friends,\nthe writing of editorials contrary to one's principles because the\npolicies of the paper require it, in other words, the whole realm of\ntruckling subserviency, yielding, cowardice, obsequiousness, surrender,\nfawning, servility, sycophancy, toad-eating, pliancy, should be weeded\nout of the garden of the soul and belligerent sincerity planted in their\nstead.\n\nAt the same time, I want to radiate my abhorrence of all the truckling\nsubserviency that seeks to gain its ends and make secure its own\nposition by cringing, fawning, and flattery upon those whose favor it\nseeks.\n\nMost men have their pet vanities. Few are free from weaknesses and\nfrailties. It is so easy to flatter, so natural to \"kow-tow,\" so\nprofitable to pander. The reason that the world so laughs at the\ndelineations of the open, bold, corrupt, parasitical, pandering Falstaff\nis that they find the echo in their own meannesses of soul. Like Henry\nVII, many men have their Falstaffs, who seek to eat, drink, and be merry\nat their expense.\n\nBy this I do not mean to decry and impeach the integrity and sincerity\nof those who express sympathy and appreciation of those who are engaged\nin large enterprises. It is natural for those conducting such to seek\nand require such sympathy in their lieutenants, but to such lieutenants\nI would cry mightily and constantly, \"Sympathize and commend by all\nmeans, but when you do, be sure your purest virtue is on guard over your\nheart and your lips. Say nothing that you do not absolutely mean.\" Be\n\"belligerently sincere\" with your own soul and speak no words to your\nemployer because he enjoys them that you would not _as freely and gladly\nsay if he had dismissed you from his employ_.\n\nI would also radiate my appreciation of those who, occupying what we\ncall a subordinate position, speak out with frank, plain, direct\nsimplicity the thoughts of their hearts. I have sometimes found in\nbusiness, employers who sought by undue flattery, scheming, plotting,\nchicanery, and fraud, all stealthily exercised, to \"work\" their\nemployees and secure from them a meed of service for which they were not\nwilling to pay a full and just price. In dealing with such employers a\nfrank, open, simple-hearted, and honest employee is often at a great\ndisadvantage. Being used to tortuous, underground, secret, plotting\nmethods himself, such an employer regards with suspicion the simple\nactions of his employee. He sees in his frank openness nothing but\ndeeply laid plots. He finds in his candid sincerity craftily planned\nschemes. The more open the one, the more certain the other is that\nthere is something hidden, deep, far-reaching, cunning, and deceitful\nunderneath his acts.\n\nTo these open-hearted souls I would radiate a tonic that is\nstimulating--quickening to their moral fiber and stiffening and\nstrengthening to their moral spines. To such I would come as a cold\nshower bath to stimulate the nerves and muscles to greater tension.\nStand by your truthfulness, stand by your frankness, stand by your\nopenness until you teach these burrowing, crafty, stealthy, sly,\nevasive, sneaking creatures that openness is better than secrecy, light\nbetter than darkness, truth better than falsity, candor better than\ncraft, and an open enemy better than a secret, fawning, sycophantic\nfoe.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nRADIANCIES OF SERVICE\n\n\nI want to radiate by thought, word, and act the joy and blessedness of\nservice. What a privilege it is to be able to do something for your\nfellows! How great and constant is the joy of ministering! How ready we\nare to run with willing feet to do some little or big thing for those we\nlove! The lover will climb dangerous Alpine heights to get the rare and\nrichly treasured edelweiss for his beloved. Leander gladly and joyously\nbraved the dangers of the Hellespont that he might cheer and encourage\nhis Hero. The lover has always cried, in all ages, to his loved one,\nasking her to send him on some difficult errand. He would gladly go\nanywhere, to any service, however arduous and dangerous, to prove his\nlove. The records of chivalry are full of daring deeds accomplished by\nmen in order to please the women they loved.\n\nAgainst this kind of service I have nothing to say. At the same time,\nthis is not the kind of service of which I now write. I would radiate\nthe thought that in our service we should treat all men and women with\nthe same willing gladness of ministry that the lover has for the\nmistress of his heart. I desire to be ready and willing to fly on the\nwings of helpfulness to do service for the meanest and most despicable\nof human kind, if thereby he, or she, may be benefited. I would radiate\nthe belief that our willing service belongs to humanity, all men, all\nwomen, not to a select few, not to the small and chosen circle whom we\ncall our loved ones and friends. I would radiate the spirit of service\nthat possessed and animated the strong, pure soul of William Morris,\nthat led him to place his precious time and service at the disposal of a\ncommittee of men, not one of whom knew enough to appreciate his\nexquisite and beautiful devotion, and under whose control he was ready\nto go and speak words of cheer, fellowship, and brotherhood in the\nlowest and most degraded parts of London. He was imbued with this\npassion for service and it was service to the whole of mankind--not the\nchosen few.\n\nI once picked up some socialistic newspaper with which I was not\nfamiliar, but in it was an account of the life of a man who had recently\ndied. According to the story of his biographer, this man was carried\naway with this passion for human service to the lowest and most\ndegraded, and he had spent his active and busy life in ministering to\nthose who, as a rule, are ignored by their more fortunate brothers and\nsisters. It was a story that thrilled me to a higher and nobler\nendeavor.\n\nMany a time I have bowed my soul in reverence and humility before a\ngroup of Salvation Army lasses who, with sweet, gentle ministrations,\nhave cheered the dwellers in the wretched hovels of London, New York,\nand other cities. I know one maiden, delicately constituted, and reared\nin a home full of wealth and luxury, who felt this passionate call of\nservice so strongly, that, in spite of the protests of her relatives and\nfriends, she went to London, united with the Salvation Army, and with\nher own beautiful and gentle hands, down upon her knees, has scrubbed\ninto cleanliness the floor of a drunken wife and drunken husband whose\nchildren had never known a clean floor in the whole of their dirty and\nwretched lives. I have helped her clean out the accumulated filth, of\nwhat seemed to be months, in similar wretched places, and all this, as\nwell as the more refined ministrations of the mind and soul, were\noffered with a sweet and gentle insistence that no one could take\noffense at, and without an air of conscious self-approbation that one so\noften finds in those who are seeking to minister to others.\n\nBut it is not only in this larger and devoted sense that I would radiate\nmy desire to serve and minister to my fellows. It is in the small and\nevery-day things of life, no matter what my work or surroundings may\nbe, that I would radiate this ministering spirit. What a pleasure it is\nto do things for others. What a joy to realize that your friends love\nyou enough to want you to do something for them.\n\nI find, however, that in the mind of many is the idea that certain\nservice is menial, and that they would not serve if they were not\nobliged to do so for the money it brings. I have a deep and profound\npity in my soul for those who look upon life with this perverted vision.\nIf I were a waiter in a cheap restaurant, it seems to me it would be my\njoy to serve the cheap meals as quickly and as cheerfully as I possibly\ncould. Surely ministering to the bodily wants of men and women is a\nservice which ought to be blessed. If I were a housemaid I feel that I\nshould find joy in making and keeping everything as orderly and tidy as\npossible.\n\nI have several times stayed in a semi-public institution where a great\nnumber of nurses were employed, and I have watched both men and women\nengaged in this beautiful service. In this particular place they all\nseemed full of this passion for service. There was no impatience at the\noften exacting calls and demands of the querulous and unreasonable\ninvalids. Their very lives were a dedication.\n\nSometimes we meet with those who will refuse to do certain things\nbecause they regard them as more menial than those they were engaged to\nperform, as, for instance, the case of a bell boy who refused to take\naway a coal-scuttle when asked to do so because that was not in the list\nof his duties, and a man \"lower down in the scale\" was supposed to\nattend to work of that kind. Now, while I recognize that there must be\nfor convenience's sake, a division of labor, I want to radiate the\nfeeling and belief that there is no higher, no lower, in this call of\npersonal service. It is just as honorable to be a street sweeper or a\nscavenger of the meanest kind (so-called), to be a farm laborer, to be a\nkitchen drudge, to be a factory hand, as it is to be a minister of a\nchurch that pays a salary of $20,000 a year. The real blessedness of\nlife of all grades of service from the scavenger to the expensive pastor\nis determined by the _spirit_ behind the service, and the kitchen drudge\nwho does her work with the consciousness in her own soul that she is\ngladly, merrily, cheerfully undertaking her work and doing it well for\nthe comfort, benefit, cheer, and blessing of her employers is of more\nbenefit to mankind than the services of the expensive pastor of the\nexclusive church who regards his ministry as a proof of his own\nintellectual worth, and as a means of asserting his high social\nposition.\n\nWho can ever forget the wonderful picture of that sturdy Scotch Doctor\ndepicted by Ian Maclaren in his _Bonnie Brier Bush_, whose passion of\ndevotion and ministry was so pure that it reached every soul in the\nwhole region.\n\nFrances Hodgson Burnett, in her _Dawn of a To-morrow_, tells of a\ndegraded street waif who yet had this passion of ministry in her soul,\nand I have come to the conclusion that wherever it is found, it is\ndivine, and therefore blessed. Hence I would radiate it at all times,\nunder all conditions, and under all circumstances to all classes and\nconditions of men.\n\nWhere would have been the work of Judge Lindsay of Denver, Golden Rule\nJones of Toledo, McClaughery of Elmira Penitentiary, Chief Kohler of\nCleveland, Governor Hunt and Warden Sims of Arizona, if they had worked\nonly for the worthy? It was the very openness of the unworthiness of\nthose for whom they strove, that made the appeal to these large-hearted\nmen.\n\nIt is so easy to criticise men of this stamp because they have dared to\nbreak away from the conventional rendering of service only to the\nworthy. It is so easy to cry that they are doing more harm than good.\nBut those who know the work and know the hearts that are constantly\nbeing touched and molded into betterment by it are better able to judge\nof its higher results.\n\nShall I hesitate to render service because I myself am not perfect?\nShall I refuse to give the shivering and hungry beggar on the street a\ntwenty-five cent meal ticket because I myself am not free from debt?\nShall I refuse to guide the lost wayfarer because I myself do not know\nall the winding pathways of life?\n\nBy no means! Let me do the best I may while I may, and seize every\nopportunity that arises. It was a Christian minister that dared to\nrebuke Father Damien by claiming that he was not immaculate in his\nservice to the repulsive and loathsome lepers of Molokai. And it was\nRobert Louis Stevenson who showed that Christian minister what true\nChristianity would have led him to say instead of what he did say.\nFather Damien's ministry was self-sacrificing, noble, and divine, even\nthough,--granting for the moment the truth of the minister's\nslander,--his service was touched of the earth, earthy. Yet the\nbeneficence and blessedness of it was so supremely above the smug,\nself-satisfied, standing-aloofness of the \"immaculate\" ministerial\ncritic that Stevenson's colossal rebuke to the latter found perfect echo\nin the heart of every decent man and woman throughout the world. Joaquin\nMiller expresses the same thought in his beautiful and strong poem on\nFather Damien when he says:\n\n  Why do ye not as he has done?\n\nIf we can do so much better than those we criticise, why, in the name of\nheaven and suffering humanity, do we not go ahead and do it? Let us do\nour best regardless of our own infirmities and weakness and the\nconsequent criticisms of others.\n\nSo I want to radiate to the needy and unworthy my readiness, nay, my\nanxiety to serve them whenever and wherever I possibly can. And though\nmy service be not unmixed gold, though there be in it some of the dross\nof imperfection, I would not withhold my hand on that account, but I\nwould serve the more readily and gladly in the hope and assurance that\nby suffering with the needy and unworthy in their need and unworthiness\nthe fire of their pain and sorrow may help refine away the dross in me\nand leave only that of pure gold.\n\n\"Give to the needy! _worthy_ or _unworthy_!\" should be the battle cry of\nhim who wishes to be a blessing to his fellows, and the more unworthy\nthe needy are, the more loving and wise the service should be. When Walt\nWhitman was shedding blessing, benediction, comfort, and joy on every\nhand throughout the hospitals of Washington, he had little or no money\nto give. He asked no questions when he went to the bedside of the sick\nand dying soldier boys as to whether they were worthy or not. They were\nneedy and that was enough for him. He stayed and soothed their weary\nhours by telling them stories, reading to them, writing letters home\nfor them, and in a thousand and one little and big ways seeking to make\ntheir sick beds more tolerable during the long hours of enforced\nconfinement.\n\nOne of his rules for the making of a true poet was that he should \"give\nalms to all who ask,\" and that he should \"stand up for the stupid and\ncrazy.\" I have a friend in Chicago who seeks absolutely to live these\ntwo rules in his daily life. Even though he may often give to the\nunworthy, he feels he can better afford to do that than to miss once\ngiving to a really needy person lest he might be giving to some one who\nwas neither needy nor worthy.\n\nA poet, whom I am very fond of quoting, once wrote:\n\n    In men whom men condemn as ill,\n    I find so much of goodness still;\n    In men whom men account divine,\n    I find so much of sin and blot;\n    I hesitate to draw the line between the two;\n    Where God has not.\n\nIt is impossible properly and wisely to differentiate, and because a man\nis unworthy is all the more reason that his fellows should seek to help\nhim into a state of worthiness.\n\nHow I wish I could imbue all with the spirit that moves Charles\nMontgomery, the prisoner's friend of San Francisco. He goes to the state\npenitentiaries at San Quentin and Folsom, and arranges to give help to\nthe prisoners as soon as they are released. Nay, he provides places for\nthem and then goes before the board of parole and secures their release.\nHe takes a true brother's interest in the men and seeks to win them to a\nnobler life. Doubtless he is often deceived, but in scores of cases he\nstarts the men on the up-grade. What is one failure or ten, to one\nsuccess or ten? If it were _my_ son that was saved I should be most\ngrateful even though he saved but one. It would make his work glorious\nand blessed to me. Then try to feel what it must be for some other\nfather or mother to learn that his, or her, son is saved from the life\nof hell, to the life of heaven, here and now, and do as much for that\nson as you would for your own.\n\nI doubt not that some of the boys Judge Lindsay seeks to save in Denver,\nare not all they ought to be, and that sometimes he is disappointed in\nthe results. But does this make him lose heart, or cease to work for the\nnew cases that come? By no means! It makes him more determined than ever\nto reach their hearts. He is more tender, more long-suffering, more\npatient, more sympathetic, more loving. The greater the need the greater\nthe endeavor.\n\nThe other day I sat down to the dinner table with a friend who outlined\nto me a project in which himself and four others are interested. It is\nto buy a farm, on the shores of a small but beautiful lake, a few miles\nout from one of our great cities, and there establish a home and a\nschool for needy children. These five devoted young people are now\nworking hard and each one is saving every cent he can out of his own\nearnings that, without calling upon any one else, they may be able to\nbuy the farm. I had asked my friend why he did not go to hear the great\nactress Bernhardt. The reason was that he preferred to put the three\ndollars that a ticket to hear Bernhardt would have cost into his \"child\nfarm fund.\" Here was self-denial with joy, for the privilege of service.\nAnd whom will he serve? There will be no question asked as to the\nworthiness or unworthiness of the children that will be received into\nthis home when established.[E]\n\n[E] Since these pages were written this farm-school has become an\nestablished fact, and is doing excellent and beautiful work for needy\nchildren.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nRADIANCIES OF HUMOR\n\n\nI want to radiate humor and my appreciation of it. But it must be\nnatural, genuine, kind-hearted, sweet, and pure. The humor that has a\nsting for some one else, that is unkind, unjust, malicious, cruel, or\nunclean is not for me. And, furthermore, I do not want that any one\nshould ever feel that I can or would enjoy such humor. I want to radiate\nsuch a spirit, give forth such an \"aura\" that no one will ever come to\nme with unkind or unclean humor, or expect me to want to hear it.\n\nNo, true humor is gentle, kind, humane, and human. I think little of any\nman or woman who cannot enjoy a good hearty laugh. I believe in\nlaughter; in joking, in fun, in wit, in humor--in the things that\nprovoke laughter. Laugh heartily, laugh loud, laugh long, and you will\noftentimes laugh away dyspepsia, the blues, and worries. Laugh at your\nown misfortunes, your own mishaps. My dear friend, Burdette, used to\nclap me on the back and exclaim in his bright, cheery voice: \"Be your\nown funny man.\" He once illustrated it by saying, in effect: \"You've\nlaughed many a time watching a man chase his hat when a windstorm ran\naway with it, but how do you feel when it's your own hat? Take a look at\nyourself. See the spectacle you make--the bewhiskered, the dignified,\nthe long-legged--as you rush frantically after the fleeing tile. Can't\nyou see the fun in bending down, making a dive for the hat, just at the\nmoment an extra gust comes and--flip, flop--the hat scoots on and you\ngrasp the empty space. Laugh at yourself, my boy, and you'll get hold of\nthe world by the tail and conquer it!\"\n\nHow true it is!\n\nThe greatest humoristic after-dinner speaker in America to-day is Simeon\nFord. How often have I laughed at and with him. Study his humor. Half of\nit is making fun at himself, his \"bizarre, gothic style of\narchitecture,\" and that kind of thing. He pokes fun, slyly, at himself,\nand watches the effect on other people. Instead of \"guying\" other, and\nsensitive, people--(notice, I say sensitive, _not_ sensible),--he guys\nhimself, and the more absurd the picture he can draw of himself the more\nhe seems to enjoy it. He is original, quaint, individualistic, truly\nfunny, not a mere retailer of old chestnuts, warmed over at the brazier\nof his wit, but a creator, a real _maker_ of humor, and the result is\npeople sit and laugh and laugh, and then laugh some more, and when it\nis all over go away wondering what it was all about. But there is no\nsarcasm, no sting, no malice in the fun, no one is hurt, everything is\nas harmless as the frolics of a young lamb.\n\nSo it was with dear little Marshall Wilder. Dear Marsh! how I loved him!\nHandicapped with a distorted body, his mind was as quick as lightning.\nHow well I remember running in upon him in his bedroom in a hotel in\nBuffalo one morning and asking him to come down to a breakfast table of\nfriends who had assembled to give me a \"Good-by.\" Though he was not\nwell, he hastily threw on his clothes, came down, and for an hour\nbrightened our circle, with some of the most flashing, bright, and\nspontaneous wit I ever heard. Everybody was charmed, delighted,\nthrilled, for he sprang from gay to grave, laughter to tears, jollity to\npathos so startlingly quick as to keep us with one hand to our eyes,\nwiping away the tears, when we had originally raised them to hide our\nwide-open, laughing mouths. He loved to make others happy; he was ever\nready to plunge deep into the pool of simple-hearted pure fun. Who will\never forget that day when he, Elbert Hubbard, Von Liebich, with half a\ndozen or more of the brightest minds of the Continent, who were visiting\nat Roycroft together, planned to go to the Pan-American Exposition at\nBuffalo. I was privileged to be of the number. We planned to go as a\nlot of country joskins, real \"Hicks,\" with hayseed in our hair, and\ncarrying our carpet-bags with us. As I was the only bewhiskered man of\nthe \"bunch,\" I was made the victim. I was to dress in country style, go\ndown the \"Midway\"--or whatever the street of shows was called--and\nattract the attention of the \"barkers\" and draw their fire. Then the\nothers were to saunter up and we, in turn, would open up our fire upon\nthe barker. Can you imagine the results? We carried out the plan exactly\nas contemplated. I ate liquorice and let the juice flow down from the\ncorners of my mouth, so that it looked like tobacco juice, I gaped at\neverything, and listened with wide-eyed wonder, I felt like a\ncountryman, so now I looked like one, and I became, immediately, the\nbutt of the jokes and jests of the \"spieler\" of the show before which I\nstood. I think I can fairly hold my own in such a combat, and the\naudience that was assembled, generally seemed to think so, but imagine\nthe way the fur began to fly when Hubbard arrived and chipped in, and\nMarshall and Von, and Bert II, and each of the others. Talk about a\nstranger dog set on by a dozen home dogs--it was nothing, compared with\nthe fun we had badgering and baiting that over-confident spieler. Then I\nmoved on to the next stand, far enough away, however, so that no one\nwas aware of our plot. The crowd soon \"tumbled\" and followed, and we\nrepeated the game to the infinite amazement of the discomfited\n\"barkers.\" It was the wildest revelry of good-natured, good-humored,\nspontaneous fun I have ever engaged in, and a thousand years can never\nefface its memory.\n\nDignity! What had we to do with dignity? We were fun-makers,\ndelight-makers, like the old-time Indians of the cliff-dwelling days,\nand we went into the game with vim, energy, earnestness, abandon, and\nenthusiasm.\n\nAnd I learned a wonderful lesson, once, from Marshall Wilder, that was\nworth many a long-winded sermon for practical usefulness in meeting the\nhardships, the woes, the pains of life. I was on the stage of a theater\nwith him, just preparatory to his \"act.\" He was suffering excruciating\nagony--as he often did, from his frail and deformed body--and sweat was\npouring down his brow and cheeks. \"Put your arms around me, and love me\ntight, George!\" he gasped, \"hold me tight,\" and I held him, clasping his\nhands also in mine. He gripped me with fierce intensity, clearly\nindicating the pain he was in, and thus we stood, until the call came\nfor him. Then, wiping his brow and face, with a smile that was at once\nghastly and sweet in its pathos, he rushed before his audience, and had\nthem laughing at his merry quips and quirks, his jests and jokes,\nbefore I could recover from the sympathy I felt for his deep suffering.\nBrave, courageous, plucky Marsh. Ready to make fun for others in spite\nof his own pain. How often when men come to me with long drawn-out tales\nof their woes, _their_ pains, _their_ sufferings, _their_ trials,\n_their_ hardships, do I feel like saying to them: \"Cut it out! Go and do\nas did Marsh Wilder. Make some one else laugh. Make some one else happy,\nand you'll forget your own troubles!\" For it is true. The very effort of\nconcentration upon making others laugh, or add to their happiness,\nlargely, if not completely, leads to a forgetfulness of one's own woes.\n\nThen, too, the man who can laugh at himself wins a hearing from the\nworld that nothing else can gain for him. There is an appeal, somehow,\nin this fact, that is irresistible. Bishop Peck, of the M. E. Church,\nwas a Falstaffian build of man. Indeed, it is said that he weighed a\nfull pound for every day in the year. A man with three hundred and\nsixty-five pounds of corporeal presence naturally possessed an\naldermanic \"front\" of compelling proportions. On one occasion the Bishop\nwas called upon at the General Conference (which, I believe, that year\nmet in Baltimore), to represent the church upon the Pacific Coast. The\ngood bishop had a habit of always stroking, or smoothing down his vest,\nwhen beginning his address, and at this time, as he arose, and began his\ndeliberate strokings of his vast and protuberant rotundity, he\naccompanied it with the words: \"Brethren, the Pacific Slope greets you!\"\n\nHis amazement, as a perfect roar of laughter greeted him and shook the\nbuilding, can well be imagined, yet he did not lose his _sang-froid_. In\nanother moment he had grasped the fun of the situation, and laughing\nwith the vast audience, seized upon that as a theme upon which he played\nwith eloquence, fervor, and power in an extemporized speech which, as\nmany who heard it say, he never surpassed in his life.\n\nSuppose his \"dignity\" had prevented his joining in the laugh at himself!\nWhat an opportunity he would have lost.\n\nI saw a similar event once in the Free Trade Hall, in Manchester,\nEngland. That great assembly hall was crowded, awaiting the coming upon\nthe platform of the Conference of all the Baptist Ministers of Great\nBritain. We had been waiting some time and I, for one, was young enough\nto be impatient as the time announced drew near. It was in the days of\nMoody and Sankey's great revivals in England, and Sankey's hymn, \"Hold\nthe Fort!\" had captured the church-going ear. To pass away the time I\nstarted the song. The audience caught on. We sang the first verse and\nthe chorus with vim and fervor. Then, just as we began the second verse,\nthe body of ministers began to march on to the platform, led by their\ngray-haired president. Recall the lines and imagine the result as the\nwords of the marching ministers were united in our thoughts!\n\n    See the mighty host advancing\n    Satan leading on!\n\nSome of us shrieked with laughter. One man near me nearly had a fit of\nhysterics. They say Englishmen can't see a joke. I never saw an American\naudience \"catch on\" any quicker than did that Manchester one. In a\nmoment the singing stopped and the place was in an uproar of wildest\nlaughter. The good president at first seemed nonplused and confused, but\nsome one must have explained it to him, for before the ministers had\nscarce taken their seats, he advanced to the edge of the platform,\nsecured silence, and began to the effect: \"Beloved friends! If we seem\nlike the hosts of evil, marching with Satan at their head, we belie our\nlooks. The Evil One has blinded your eyes. We are the army of the other\nside. We are Christian soldiers, engaged in a never-to-cease conflict\nwith that army of evil that we shall assuredly conquer,\" and so on,\ngiving one of the most pertinent, direct, spontaneous, and truly\neloquent of addresses.\n\nHe rose to the occasion--joined in the laugh upon himself, won his\naudience, and then used the sympathy he had gained, to strike home some\ndeep and important truths.\n\nThis is what I want to live, to radiate: love of humor, readiness to\nlaugh at it even though it be laughing at myself, ready to make it when\nI can for others, ready to join in other people's appreciation of it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nRADIANCIES OF THE \"ETERNAL NOW\"\n\n\nIs there any past, any future, in our lives? If I look back upon the\npast, or anticipate the future, whether with joy or pleasure, do I not\ndo it in the _now_? To-morrow never comes, for when it arrives it is no\nlonger to-morrow,--it is _now_. Life is one _eternal now_. The great\ntrouble, however, with most people, is that they have not learned that\nfact. They do not live in the _now_, they sit down and lament over the\npast; weep that its joys are gone, its glories faded, altogether\noblivious of the resplendent beauties that now surround them, the\nradiant joyousnesses that environ them, NOW. Or, they sit in fond\nanticipation, in expectation, with impatient waiting for to-morrow, for\nnext week, for next year, ignoring the immediate and present sweet\nsinging of the birds, the exquisite daintiness of the flowers, their\ndelicate fragrance, the majesty and sublimity of the snowy mountain\npeaks, the upright stateliness of the trees, the supernal clarity of the\nsky, the pellucidness of the atmosphere, the champagne-like quality of\nthe air, NOW.\n\nWhat time we lose, waste, pervert, by forgetting the duty, the joy, the\ndelight of living in the Eternal Now. Take your joys as they come along.\nIt is the Divine plan that every moment shall be filled with His\njoy--the joy of living, of being.\n\nEyes are given to see with _now_! Are you using them now? Do you gaze\nupon the grass, the trees, the flitting butterflies, the busy insects,\nthe bees, the beautiful birds, the clouds, the sky, the sea, the\nrippling cascades, the _everything_ of Nature, NOW, and enjoy their\nmany-formed, many-hued, many-graced splendors.\n\nEars are given for hearing _now_!\n\nAre yours alert for all the sweet, the pleasant, the comforting, the\njoyous, the sublime sounds that might come to them now? Or are you like\nthe \"fools and blind\" who will sit at a Boston Symphony concert and\ngabble gossip or retail slander?\n\nPalates are given to taste with _now_!\n\nAre you tasting the apples, the rare lusciousness of grapes, peaches,\noranges, plums, and the thousand and one delicate fruits _now_, or are\nyou regretting the lost truffles, the sauces, the spices, the wines, the\nstimulating things of yesterday, or longing for the Lucullus repasts of\nto-morrow?\n\nOh, the content and happiness of taking joys as they come, in their\nsimpleness and naturalness, in their every-day, common, normal order; of\nlooking for them, expecting them, anticipating them, going out, as it\nwere, to meet them.\n\nIs it only a walk of ten blocks (or five) to the store, or office, or\nschool? Are you ready as you step out of your door to inhale the\nfragrance of the morning air, or enjoy its own peculiar delight if the\nmorning is wet, misty, foggy, rainy? Do you see the moving and sun-lit\nclouds; the clear sky, the rustling leaves of the trees; the hopping of\nthe happy birds; the joyousness of the children walking to school?\n\nBe alert, receptive, ready. Seize the _small joy of the now_, and you\nwill find it far more delightful than all the anticipations, and even\nthe realizations of what seem to be the _large joys of the to-morrow_.\n\nOne of the saddest pictures on canvas to me is one called \"The Pursuit\nof Pleasure.\" It represents a female figure as _Pleasure_, floating\nthrough the air, and followed by an eager crowd of men and women, of all\nages and conditions in life. Reaching, grasping, breathless, regardless\nof their tramplings upon each other, indifferent that some of their\nwhilom companions are fallen and cannot arise, and that hopeless despair\nis depicted in their eyes and faces, each and all of the remaining\nstrugglers fix their eyes upon the phantom though alluring figure. And\nthus the pursuit goes on continuously; there is no reaching her; she is\never illusive and evasive, a delusion and a snare, ever beckoning yet\never retreating.\n\nIn her sculptured fountain at the Panama-Pacific Exposition, Mrs. Harry\nPayne Whitney expresses the same idea, but even more forcefully than\ndoes the picture. Here are thirty-seven figures nearly all intent upon\nreaching their goal of happiness. They cannot even see what it is. Yet\nthe eagerness depicted upon the faces, in the straining attitudes, the\nstrenuous striving in that one direction, all typify the desire, the\nintentness, the resolute pursuit of happiness. Then, alas, when the\ndoors are reached, they are both found closed, guarded by Assyrian and\nEgyptian figures, that suggest the occult mystery of the beyond, and\nthat look down sternly and unyieldingly upon the two figures at their\nfeet, long strivers, evidently pleading for the admission that is denied\nthem. There are two definite, distinct, and different ways in which\nthese two allegories can be interpreted. One is that mankind ever lives\nin the world of the senses, pursuing the gratifications of the now, the\nfeastings, the drinkings, the carousings, the pleasuring, the wantonings\nof the sense-life, the sensual life, and that such a pursuit is ever\ndoomed to failure, for man--the spiritual, created in God's own\nimage--can never be satisfied with the temporary things of earth and\nsense.\n\nThe other interpretation is that man is ever seeking for some _far-off_,\ngreat, _extraordinary_ pleasure, joy, or satisfaction, something in the\nfuture, rather than living in the smaller joys of the _now_. The child\nlongs to be the youth or maiden, enjoying \"sitting up at nights,\" \"going\nto parties,\" \"eating candies,\" \"going out with the boys,\" \"smoking like\na man\"; the youth eagerly works for the time when he shall be his own\nmaster, control his own business; the maiden, have her lover, marry\nsuccessfully, become the mistress of her own house; the grown man looks\nforward to and works desperately for the time when he shall have \"made\nhis pile,\" and the woman to \"an assured place in society.\" These, and a\nthousand and one \"_pursuits_\" engage men and women.\n\nIn my own life I am eagerly desirous to radiate the opposite of both of\nthese conceptions. I certainly do not wish to belong to the class\npictured in Christ's parable of the rich man; he who thought only of the\nso-called good things of this life which he would enjoy now--he who\nsaid: \"Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die.\" The\nslightest observation of life, of the men and women one meets daily,\nsoon convinces one of the hollowness, the dissatisfaction, the\nincompleteness of all earthly things. The subject is too trite to need\nany amplification. Yet, the wonder of it is, that, in spite of this\nfact, the great majority of people still thus strive for wealth, place,\npower, honor, social success, possessions, attainments. Why is it that\nthis _ignis fatuus_ has such power of allurement? Why is it that men\nand women are so foolish, so slow to rule their actions by their own\ninner spiritual awakenings, rather than the habits and fashions followed\nby others?\n\nI have no desire or ambition for fame, for honor, for success, for\nplace, for power, _as such_. They are useless to me save as I may use\nthem for the benefit, the happiness, the pleasure of my fellows. I am\nslowly awakening to the realization of what I believe now to be a primal\nfact, viz., that all a man can really hold and enjoy in his living hand,\nin his soul, in his life, is that which he gives away, shares,\ndistributes among his fellows.\n\nElsewhere I have quoted Joaquin Miller's lines from _Peter Cooper_:\n\n    For all you can hold in your dead, cold hand,\n    Is what you have given away.\n\nI now wish to radiate my belief in the enlargement of that idea as\nstated above. Even knowledge can give no real satisfaction unless\nshared, given to others; the joy of a picture owned is lost unless\nothers can enjoy with you. In other words, the possession of anything\n_for self alone_ is destructive of happiness. One learns slowly but\nsurely that even in these things of the mind and the soul:\n\n    That man who lives for self alone\n    Lives for the meanest mortal known.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nRADIANCIES OF EXTREMES\n\n\nLife is made up of extremes and everything that comes between them.\nThere is the North Pole and there is the South Pole. There is the heat\nof the fiery furnace and the cold of the Arctic Zone. There is the\nheight of heaven and the depth of hell; the voice of the thunder and the\nwhisper of the gentle zephyr.\n\nMan is a singular being. He is as diverse as is the manifold face of\nNature upon which he gazes. His likes and dislikes are many and varied.\nMen of equal intelligence and equal powers differ in their ways of\nlooking at the same thing. The poet Browning effectively states this\nwhen he says:\n\n    Ten men love what I hate,\n    Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;\n    Ten, who in ears and eyes\n    Match mine.\n\nIn the face of such facts one is compelled to the conclusion that\npersonal idiosyncrasy or individual preference alone can decide what it\nwants, needs, and must have, in this large diversity that is offered\nit.\n\nThe fact that ten men who have equal powers of observation and\nreflection as myself love the things that I hate, and reject the things\nthat I receive, has absolutely no influence in deciding me in regard to\nthe things that I hate and receive, any more than the fact that I hate\nand receive things to which they have the antagonistic feeling\ninfluences them; hence it is useless for me to attempt to enforce my\nlikings and antipathies upon others, even as it is useless for them to\nattempt to force theirs upon me.\n\nSo I have been led to accept the philosophy, which I wish to radiate to\nall men, that it appears to me the Divine Wisdom has provided for these\npersonal idiosyncrasies of human nature by giving to us the extremes of\nthings with everything that lies between. So, regardless of my own\npreference, I believe that the strong wind is as much a beneficent force\nof Nature as is the zephyr; the thundering cataract of Yosemite as the\nplacid Mirror Lake; the avalanche as the snowflake; the thunder as the\nviolet; the earthquake as the rippling rill; the blazing meteor as the\nMilky Way; the flaming sun-spots as the sparkling dewdrop; the fiery\nvolcano as the quiet glowworm; the giant sequoia as the tiny\nforget-me-not; the thundering breakers of ocean as the gentle pattering\nraindrop; the fiery boiling geyser as the silently flowing fountain; the\ndazzling comet as the serene fixed star; the rugged Grand Canyon as the\nflower-besprinkled sward; the monster whale as the tiny gold-fish; the\ngiant elephant as the timid mouse; the blaring trumpet as the soothing\nguitar; the startling kettle-drum as the smoothly flowing 'cello; the\nclanging cymbals as the seductive oboe.\n\nI firmly believe and wish to radiate my belief that God has as much use\nfor the man of the farm as for the man of the drawing-room; the rudeness\nof \"The man with the hoe\" as the smoothness of the man with the higher\neducation. He needs the arid desert as well as the fertile plain; the\nwild ruggedness of the ravine as well as the cultivated garden; the\ncolorless abysses of the glacier as well as the flower-besprinkled\nfoothills. He has use for the snowy plains of the north as well as the\nrice fields of the south; the cactus as well as the orchid; the giant\nsuaharo as well as the shrinking gilia; the prickly pear, as the velvety\npeach; the sword-fish, as the nautilus; the shark as the flying-fish;\nthe flaming sunrises and sunsets, as the tender tints of the lily, and\nthe night-blooming cereus; the deep purples, as well as the blush rose;\nthe glowing yellows as the softer blues; the piercing greens as the\nquieter violets. The bluffs and promontories that thrust their heads out\ninto the ocean are as much a part of God's great out-of-doors and of as\nmuch use as are the placid landscapes; the mountain heights as much\nneeded as are the flower-bespangled levels; the vast reaches of prairie\nas the secluded and confined valley. The piercing cold of the Arctic has\nas much a place in Nature as the alluring mildness of Southern\nCalifornia or the Riviera; the monster tides of the Bay of Fundy as the\nripples of the placid pool.\n\nThe sturdy and warlike Viking has as much a place in history as the\ndiplomatic and artistic Italian; the Negro as the Caucasian; the\nChinaman as the French; the Oriental as the English; the Japanese as the\nAmerican.\n\nEl Capitan and Gibraltar are not exquisitely carved statues by Canova or\nThorwaldsen, but they have just as much a place in the history of the\nworld's development.\n\nThe wilds of the high Sierras, in all their rude and majestic splendor,\nrugged and tremendous vastness, where clear-eyed, horny-handed,\nstrong-oathed, and rudely clad men wander and labor, are very different\nfrom the city drawing-rooms,--those places of pink teas and white\nkid-gloved men and women; those breeding places of superficial\nconventionality and effete conceptions of people and life, but I doubt\nnot that the high Sierras have produced more of benefit to mankind than\nall the drawing-rooms of all the civilizations.\n\nI love the pastoral and quiet landscapes of the Connecticut River\nValley, of placid Killarney, of the quiet vale of Avoca, of picturesque\nNormandy, but the passion, power, majesty, sublimity, solitude,\ndreariness and desolation of the far-reaching Colorado Desert, deep\ndescending Grand Canyon, bold escarpments of the Red Rock country, and\nother tremendous and solitary places of Nature command me, allure me,\nappeal to me, and dominate me quicker than the quiet places of beauty.\n\nWhat, in Nature, to some men is the end of things to others is the\nbeginning. The sacred writer says that God even \"maketh the wrath of men\nto praise him,\" as well as their love and tenderness.\n\nLife is not all comprised about a slender figure and transparent\nprofile; faultless coils of hair; soft, rich, clinging garments; laces\nfalling over taper fingers; graceful and dignified demeanor; low and\nsweetly modulated voice, and the perfection of faultless manners. There\nmay be a place for the rude, uncouth clodhopper with disfigured\nfeatures; tousled hair; clad in homespun or cheap denim; rags taking the\nplace of lace; boorish and clumsy demeanor; a voice like a steamer\nfoghorn; and the apotheosis of all that is blundering and awkward in\nmanner.\n\nI do not, for one moment, defend any unnecessary boorishness or\nuncouthness of manner, and must not be understood as doing so, but at\nthe same time, in spite of these things, I am impelled to state my\nconviction that the latter class is more needful to the real progress\nof the world than the former. I notice that several times in the history\nof the world, canal-drivers, shepherd-boys, wood-choppers, and\nrail-splitters have made wonderful pilots for the Ship of State.\n\nGod has use in His world for the rough as well as the polished; the roar\nof the thunder as well as the coo of the dove; the stentorian\ntrumpet-tone as well as the still, small voice. John the Baptist came\nfrom the desert robed in skins and camel's hair; his voice, doubtless,\nwas not soft and well-modulated as were those of Herodias and Salome. He\nwas \"the voice of one crying in the wilderness.\" His call contained the\nthunder tones of the storm and wild cry of the lonely eagle seeking its\nsolitary aerie; the strength and the roar of the lion. It was neither\nrefined, pleasing, nor cultured, but it possessed life and power and it\nwas chosen to herald the coming of the Messiah.\n\nNowhere have we been told that Elijah, Jeremiah and Daniel were noted\nfor the soft and dulcet tones of their voices, yet they were the chosen\ninstruments of the Divine in overthrowing dynasties and changing the\nhistory of nations. Peter the Hermit was not a sweet-voiced singer in\nIsrael, but he started a movement that led to the civilization of\nEurope. I doubt not that the charges of the British against Joan of Arc\nthat she cried in a coarse military voice when she led the armored\nhosts of France were true, but she drove the foreign invader from the\nsoil of her beloved France where they had held footing for nigh upon a\nhundred years and no one else had been able to win a victory from them.\n\nI doubt not there were times when Grant's voice did not possess the\nmellow and refined quality of the drawing-room exquisite, but he won\nvictories and made a united people possible. John Brown was rude, rough,\nuncouth, boorish, when compared with the refined and polished cavaliers\nof the South. They called him a bandit, an invader, a revolutionist, an\nanarchist, and they captured and hanged him, but to thousands of men his\ncrazy dream of the invasion of the South to forcibly compel the freedom\nof the slave is being more and more seen by hundreds of thousands of\nwise men to have been one of the most practical and effective means of\ncalling the attention of men to the moral principle involved in the\nquestion of slavery, as to whether men of one color of blood or skin had\nthe right to hold in bondage men of a different color.\n\nWhen Theodore Parker was denouncing the iniquities of any and all\nslavery, his voice was not as soft and gentle and sweetly modulated as\nthat of Longfellow, yet it played as important a part in the history of\nthe development of mankind and stirred men to higher endeavor on the\npart of their suffering and down-trodden fellows.\n\nWhat, then, is the upshot of the whole matter? It seems to me it is\nthis: Listen to the voice that appeals to your own soul; that lifts you\nfrom the lower to the higher; that thrills you to deeds of heroism, that\nstimulates you to acts of nobleness, that calls you to a life of helpful\nself-sacrifice; and while doing this, cease to criticise, to find fault,\nto censure the kind of voice to which you do not care to listen. The\nstrong, vigorous, robust, red-blooded man of the out-of-doors generally\nwill not speak nor act with the perfect restraint and conventionality of\nthe man born in the atmosphere of the drawing-room, but his message may\nbe just as helpful to the world, and as divinely inspired as that of his\nmore refined and dignified prototype.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nABSORPTION IN RELATION TO RADIATION\n\n\nMost important factors in Living the Radiant Life are Living the Life of\n_Possession_ and Living the Absorptive Life. To radiate one must\npossess, and to possess one must absorb. To give largely and well, one\nmust receive largely and well. The Absorptive Life is as essential as\nthe Radiant Life. Out in the great silences are the eloquent voices of\nGod ready to speak to the attentive soul; out in Nature a million voices\nare ready to impart knowledge to the ignorant. All one has to do to\nreceive is to \"ask\"; not with the voice but with the whole being. As a\nsponge absorbs water up to the limit of its capacity, so should man\nabsorb, and then, unlike the sponge, which must be squeezed from without\nere it will give off that which it has received, man should radiate from\nwithin all that he has received.\n\nThere are few people in the world who are true absorbers. We are so full\nof prejudices, conceits, notions, that we refuse to receive from this,\nthat, or the other source, because, forsooth, we in our pride deem the\nsource unworthy. The true life receives from every source. Call nothing\nunclean. All things are yours. God is over and in all. Prove all things.\nOpen your heart to all good from whatever source. Stand humbly before\nGod ready to receive. Keep your hands open; your eyes, your ears, your\nnostrils, your whole nature in a state of active receptivity. Be afraid\nof nothing. Some one comes and tells you that in this or that he has\nfound spiritual life and help. You, however, have been taught to regard\nthat as a dangerous thing, so you are afraid of it. Arise and be above\nsuch fears. Are you a man, a woman, a human soul, made in the image of\nGod and given powers of thought, of discernment, of decision? Or are you\na mere puppet to be worked by the string of other men's thoughts, other\nmen's ideas, other men's opinions? Listen for yourself; think for\nyourself; decide for yourself; act for yourself. If a thing seems right\nto your own soul do it though the heavens fall and you suffer the\ncondemnation of all mankind. True and rapid progress will never come to\nthe race until individual men learn that they alone are the arbiters of\ntheir own destiny.\n\nGo out into Nature, into the silences, into the workshops and the marts\nof trade _and absorb_. Listen to every good voice that speaks, and if\nyou are not sure whether the voice is good or not, listen anyhow and\n\"prove\" it by the infallible tests of purity, unselfishness, and uplift.\n\nEvery human soul may be a wireless telegraph receiver. God is flashing\nout messages every moment from His million and one instruments all over\nthe universe. They are all kinds of messages--but all from the one\nspirit, and therefore all spiritual. They appeal to the bodies, the\nminds, the souls of men, and all you have to do to receive them is to\nhave your receiving apparatus of body, mind, and soul attuned to the\nsending apparatus of the Loving Sender. Get in tune. Cry out to God: I\nwant all there is. I cast aside all prejudgments, all conceits, all\nideas. Let me hear direct from Thee. Go out into the fields and receive\nfrom the spirit that is in, over, and about Nature. Every tree, flower,\ngrass, bird, insect, animal, cloud, storm, rock, stream has a message\nfor you if you will but hear it. Love alone can open your heart to\nreceive; it is the key with which the soul and mind and body are set in\ntune. Get yourself into _relationship_ with Nature. Feel your kinship.\nGod is the Father of every tree as much as he is your Father. Go and\nclaim your family. And claim all the good they possess as your own, for\nit is yours and merely awaits your taking. As a child you did this with\nyour mother. The nourishment of her breasts, the gentle hush of her\nvoice, the soothing touch of her fingers, the brooding yearning of her\nlove; all these were yours the moment you cried out for them. Mother\nNature is as full of the spirit of Love as your physical mother. Indeed\nthe latter is one in spirit with the former. Call out then. Demand, with\nthe simple expectancy of the child, all that you need. Call for it\nconfident that it will come. Expect it, and according to your expectancy\nit will be given unto you.\n\nBut to do this you must be a true child of your Nature Mother. You must\nconfidently lean on her breast, you must confidently blend yourself with\nher, you must let her touch you as your mother used to touch you when, a\nhelpless babe, you lay in your cradle. Her hand went all over your body,\nfrom head to foot, with loving, soothing caress. Let the sun and the\nbreezes touch your body in like fashion. Their fingers will soothe with\nmesmeric power and at the same time bring health and strength and vigor,\nand withal, peace. Go and lie down on the bosom of the Earth Mother;\nfeel her pulsating heart, and in time, when you have forgotten your\nartificiality and pretension, your so-called civilization and culture,\nand found anew your kinship with the Earth, you will feel the whole\npower of Nature pulsing through your veins; the fever of your unhealthy\nblood will be soothed and it will flow naturally and coolly as the sweet\nsap that ascends to the nourishment of the topmost branch and leaf.\n\nAnd when life has wounded you, cut you, torn you almost limb from limb,\nand you feel and see yourself only an almost dismembered trunk, Nature\nwill soothe and heal you. Your wounds will soon be scarred over and the\ntrees, the ferns, the birds, the grasses, the squirrels, the bees, the\nbuds, the blossoms, and the butterflies,--all--will associate with you\non equal terms. They will neither laugh at you nor repel you, but as\nloving friends come and associate with you in sweet and dear kinship.\nYou will walk through the aisled forest temples of God repentant and\nforgiven for sins of the past, and shame and sorrow will flee away,\nreplaced by the calm joy of the peace that flows into the receiving\nheart like a river. You will undress and bathe in the sunshine and the\npools, the creeks and the rivers, fearless and unabashed, for you will\nhave exposed your soul to the soul of things; real shame has nothing to\ndo with externals.\n\nBut, you ask, how am I to begin to observe and thus absorb the good\ngifts of God into my very life in order that I may live and radiate them\nto others? Let me help you to begin!\n\nTo be satisfied is to stagnate and petrify. In his _Rabbi Ben Ezra_,\nRobert Browning has three pregnant lines:\n\n    What I aspired to be,\n    And was not, comforts me:\n    A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale.\n\nThe aspiring soul is the one reaching out to absorb. One might be a\nsatisfied brute by closing all the avenues of aspiration and high\nambition, but it is immeasurably better to be an unsatisfied, aspiring\nman rather than the satisfied low-minded brute.\n\nAspiration is the hunger of the soul. Hunger implies need. So\nfoster--cultivate--your hunger. The hungry seek for food, and food gives\nnew life, new growth, new strength, new power. The Universe of God is\nfull of food for man's mind and soul. And it is of infinite variety,\ncapable of nourishing myriads of soul-powers that now lie dormant in\nyour nature. Awaken to your needs. Be on the lookout every moment for\nthe free gifts of God that hang from the trees of life that grow in\nevery back yard as well as on high mountains and in every fertile\norchard.\n\nThere is a great deal more in this expression, \"cultivate a hunger,\"\nthan at first sight appears. People who satisfy their lower appetites\nknow nothing of the true hunger of the soul. And consequently when they\nsee the food designed by the Almighty Love and Wisdom to satisfy to the\nfull all the demands of true hunger, these grossly contented minds pass\nthem by, their eyes are closed so that they see not; their senses are\ndulled so that they smell not, hear not, feel not, taste not. I have\nseen people fast from every kind of food, solid or liquid, for ten,\ntwenty, thirty or forty, and in one case even for eighty days. At the\nend of these fasts, the fasters related with delight their keen pleasure\nand satisfaction at realizing what real hunger was as differentiated\nfrom the mere appetite for food that they had felt prior to their fasts.\nAs a rule we eat too much. We satiate ourselves upon foods that are not\nalways good for us, and thus destroy the true normal appetite for pure,\ngood, healthful, simple foods.\n\nAmong these people who fasted were several who were thin and poorly\nnourished, and yet who had abnormal appetites and ate far more food than\nthose who were robust, hearty, vigorous, and strong. The physician said,\nwhat was self-evident, that the more food they ate, the less nourished\nthey became, because they overloaded themselves with food and much of it\nwas the wrong kind. It was hard work for these people to fast, but at\nthe close of the fast, their abnormal and unnatural appetite had\ndisappeared and in its stead had come a true, normal hunger which\nrevealed to them the right kind of food that they should eat to satisfy\nthe demands of the body and which, when they did eat, was immediately\nassimilated. The result was that within a month or two, after having\nlearned what real hunger was as differentiated from perverted appetite,\nthey were fat and rosy, plump and vigorous, beautiful and energetic.\n\nIt is exactly the same in our mental and spiritual life. We feed upon\nthe grosser foods to satiation and repletion and the result is that we\nsuffer from mental and spiritual dyspepsia and are pale, thin, an\u00e6mic\nand weak, where we should be beautiful, vigorous, energetic, and strong.\nQuit stuffing and craving the lower foods. Stay away from the theater,\nthe vaudeville, the cheap show. Quit reading the sensational novel, the\ntrashy story of excitement. Give your brain, your mind, your soul, a\nrest. Fast a while. Do as Elijah did, as Jesus, as Mahomet. Go into the\ndesert, the solitude, and for forty days and nights rest, body, mind,\nand soul, until real hunger takes possession of you. Then come forth and\nbegin to absorb from all the great wealth of God that surrounds you.\n\nThere are three chief sources of purest mind and soul supply and I wish\nbriefly to consider each one of these. They are: 1. Observation. 2.\nReading. 3. Intuition.\n\nThis may not be a scientific classification, but it suffices for my\npurpose. I have not put the most important first, but observation is the\none man most relies upon.\n\n1. Observation is God's method of filling up the inner supply of man's\nknowledge through the senses. He sees, feels, hears, smells, tastes, and\nthrough these avenues receives mental impressions. One can observe the\nlower things or the higher. Every day as I ride on the train or street\ncars, I observe men reading their newspapers. As a rule I can tell in a\nfew minutes what a man's mental hunger is by watching him read. He\nchooses the pink sheet and devours with avidity the stories of prize\nfights. He turns to the pages devoted to courts and reads the accounts\nof murder trials or of scenes where lawyers quarrel or jangle and where\nwitnesses testify to disgusting and loathsome things. Another man is\ninterested in clean athletics and reads with interest of college\nfootball, Marathon games, and the like. Still another is absorbed in the\nnews of a higher nature, a meeting of the Hague Peace Conference, the\nendeavors of statesmen to bring about a better understanding between the\nNorth and the South, between nations. In other words, a man takes what\nhis appetite craves out of the newspaper. Just so it is with all life.\nMen take whatever their appetites crave. If the appetite is false,\nunnatural, abnormal, they take injurious food. Only when the depraved\nappetite becomes changed into natural, normal hunger, is the right kind\nof food sought and found. Yet there is immeasurably more of the pure,\ngood food to satisfy the perfect, normal hunger, than there is of the\ncarrion which the vulture instincts in us crave.\n\n2. Reading. While I have put this under a separate head, it really\nbelongs under the head of observation, for the reading of books is but\nobservation of the observations of other men. Yet, as I shall show\nlater, this is a special field which one should endeavor to glean with\ncare.\n\n3. Intuition. To the really normally hungry soul, this is the chief,\nindeed, the only source of spiritual food. It is what Emerson called the\n\"Oversoul,\" and what Doctor Buck meant when, in speaking of Walt\nWhitman, he said he possessed the \"cosmic conscience.\" It is\nreceptiveness to universal truth, Divine truth, that truth which knows\nno time, no place, no boundaries of nationality, no difference in creed,\nin sect, in sex, in color, but that, like the sun, shines alike upon\nall, whether bond or free, rich or poor, learned or unlearned, black,\nwhite, brown, or red, savage or civilized. It is the spirit that\npossessed--in varying degrees--Gautama, Buddha, Confucius, Mahomet,\nJesus, Joan of Arc, Emerson, Browning, Whitman, all great souls who have\nseen the truth universal and recorded it for the uplift and ennobling of\nmankind.\n\nMay I here suggest a few ideas as to how you should begin to absorb the\ngood things of God in order to get the fullest benefit from them, and\nthen let us go out together and absorb some of the things that will make\none a newer, fuller, more vigorous and truly radiant being.\n\nGet into the habit of looking out of your bedroom window at the skies\neach night before you retire to rest. Is it clear? Study that brilliant\nscheme of stars and planets. What grander sight could you ask for? Yet\nevery common man and woman may see it from the smallest attic or\nhall-bedroom window. Is the moon in the heavens dimming the stars but\nflooding the earth with dream-light? Can you see the great wonderful\nclouds floating about in the night's silences away up under the light of\nthe moon or against the sparkling of the far off stars? Or is the sky\ndark and lowering with black clouds so that you can see nothing as yet?\nWhat a wonderful thing that cloud screen is; that soft, moist vapor\npiled in great billows above us, shutting out the heavens and their\nwonders from our gaze. How dark it seems on the earth beneath. How shut\naway from the brightness and serenity of the stars. Yet we know that the\nclouds are but temporary, that they will soon pass over, and that we are\nperfectly safe nestling here on the quiet bosom of mother earth.\n\nLook up to the heavens _every night_ for some intellectual and spiritual\nfood, just as you go to the dining-room, _only more so_. Form the habit!\n\nStudy the stars as David did. They are as free to you as they were to\nhim. The poorest beggar and the most degraded sot have as much claim to\nthe stars as the king on his throne or the most divine man that ever\nlived. What a wonderful drama is being nightly played in the skies. How\nmuch more interesting and attractive to the seeing and understanding eye\nthan the puppet shows of the theater, where there is so much of the\nglare, the tinsel, the sham, the shoddy.\n\nThe Passion Play of Oberammergau is well worth seeing. To witness and\nhear the dramas of Wagner is worth while, especially soul-stirring\n_Parsifal_, but here in the heavens is the great mystery of the Creator,\nwatched over, guarded, protected by these bright armored knights,--the\nstars and the planets, the comets, the nebul\u00e6, the milky way,--with a\nvigilance which is as keen as it is eternal.\n\nA thoughtful girl once wrote me to the effect that after she first began\nto realize the glories of the stars, she prayed to a different God from\nthe God she had always associated with formality, churches, prayer\nbooks, creeds, and the communion service. She said, in effect, that her\nprayer became less glib, less wordy, less ready, for the stars inspired\nher with the sense of majesty and awe of the Great Creator, so that she\ncame before Him with words that meant more even though they came with\nless smoothness of utterance. Awe will take the place of smug\nself-satisfaction; the obeisance of the soul to mere bending of the\nknees; an all-sweeping passion for uplift rather than vain repetitions\nand selfish cries for more of the baubles of life to play with. There is\nno doubt whatever that Tennyson had some such thoughts in mind when he\nwrote in _Locksley Hall_:\n\n    Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest,\n    Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West.\n    Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade,\n    Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid.\n\nLongfellow, too, has an exquisite poem on _The Light of the Stars_:\n\n    The night has come, but not too soon;\n      And sinking silently,\n    All silently, the little moon\n      Drops down behind the sky.\n\n    There is no light in earth or heaven\n      But the cold light of stars;\n    And the first watch of night is given\n      the red planet Mars.\n\n    Is it the tender star of love?\n      The star of love and dreams?\n    O no! from that blue tent above,\n      A hero's armor gleams.\n\n    And earnest thoughts within me rise,\n      When I behold afar,\n    Suspended in the evening skies,\n      The shield of that red star.\n\n    O star of strength! I see thee stand\n      And smile upon my brain;\n    Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,\n      And I am strong again.\n\n    Within my heart there is no light\n      But the cold light of stars;\n    I give the first watch of the night\n      To the red planet Mars.\n\n    The star of the unconquered will\n      He rises in my heart\n    Serene, and resolute, and still,\n      And calm, and self-possessed.\n\n    And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,\n      That readest this brief psalm,\n    As one by one thy hopes depart,\n      Be resolute and calm.\n\n    O fear not in a world like this,\n      And thou shalt know ere long,\n    Know how sublime a thing it is\n      To suffer and be strong.\n\nSo study the stars, get from them all you can. Let their serenity sink\ninto your soul, and their calm peace speak peace to your troubled and\nrestless spirit. Yield to your imagination as to whatever they bring\nyou, and be thankful for every suggestion of largeness, bigness, power,\nand love.\n\nIn his _Saul_, Browning has David tell how the stars suggested to him\nthe life of the people far away, who dwelt far beyond the possibility of\nhis ever seeking them. How could he, the poor and humble shepherd lad,\never hope to see and know these people? Yet he could picture them. So\ncan you. Let your imagination grow! Let it roam! Enjoy all it gives to\nyou of good and inspiration. Think of the life you might live if you had\nthe power some of these people have, and then seek to live worthy of\nthat larger life even in the restricted sphere in which you are placed.\n\nBut there are other things in the heavens, almost as common as the\nstars, that may become a great and glorious inspiration to you.\n\nI once saw a display of lightning that came to me as a revelation from\nGod. It was so vivid and intense that the friends who were with me, old\nArizona pioneers who had braved hundreds of storms, were afraid, and\nlike myself hid their faces in their blankets. But by and by the\nabsurdity of this act struck me;--as if we were safer with our heads\ncovered than if we were taking in the sight in all its sublimity and\nterrible splendor. So I resolutely cast my blanket aside, and although I\nhad not yet gotten over the shaking of my knees, I stepped to the cabin\ndoor and enjoyed the splendid scene to the full.\n\nWho could hope to describe this display so that others can see it, or to\nbe believed if he even attempts to picture the intense and vivid\nbrilliancy of that evening's marvelous fire-works? For a few moments we\nwere enveloped in a \"darkness that could be felt,\" and then, in a\nmoment, what seemed to be hundreds of millions of darting, zig-zag forks\nof lightning struck downwards through the heavens in every direction. We\nwere encircled in these myriad flashes of vivid violet light that almost\nblinded us with their brilliancy. For an hour or more this display\ncontinued. But it was a sight that I can never forget, and it gave me a\nnew insight, and new thoughts about the glory of God.\n\nI have sat in the grass on a summer night or have walked many a mile\nboth in the South and in the West watching the scintillating, yet soft\nand delicate, light of the fireflies as they sparkled and twinkled at my\nfeet and in the air all about me. With a sort of irregular yet rhythmic\nmovement they opened and closed their tiny lanterns, and interested,\nfascinated, and thrilled me by the perfection of their simple beauty.\n\nWith equal fascination I have watched the phosphorescent glow on the\nocean beach, as the great foam-crested breakers curved over and dashed\nshoreward, gleaming with that peculiarly weird brilliancy, altogether\ndifferent from any other light known to man. It is even more fascinating\nwhen seen in the amethystine waters of the Gulf of Mexico, as the\nsteamer plows its way through the yielding waters and casts the\ngleaming and phosphorescent spray from side to side in the otherwise\ndark and silent night.\n\nTalk about the beauties of Nature! Once begin on such a theme and there\nseems to be no end. A thousand and one things crowd upon the mind\nbegging, clamoring for utterance in this record, but space forbids. Do\nnot say you cannot see, do not say there is nothing in your immediate\nsurroundings for you. You cannot take a step without glimpsing beauty of\nsome kind if your eyes are awake to observe and your heart to absorb.\nOnly this morning the maid in \"doing up my room\" in the city of Chicago\npointed out the beauty of the black trunks and branches of the trees in\nthe avenue contrasted against the pure white of the snow which had just\nfallen. Then she remarked that even the smoky buildings were changed\ninto something beautiful and harmonious when the snow came, and she\ncommented upon the fact that she found beauty here that charmed,\nthrilled, and stimulated her soul, just as much as she did amid the\nmuch-described and certainly more glowing and picturesque scenery of\nCalifornia.\n\nHere is the true spirit! Do not repine for the things that are away off\nand that you cannot have. Take from what you can get, or go resolutely\nto work to get the more desirable surroundings. But _wherever you are_\nabsorb that which is _now_ and _here_ presented to you, and thus you\nwill learn to know and appreciate greater and grander things when\nopportunity places them before you.\n\n2. _Absorption through Reading._\n\nIt must not be understood that because I am constantly urging my readers\nto rely upon their own observations of Nature that I do not fully\nappreciate the benefit books may be to them. Books form a large place in\nmy own life, and I would regret to be separated from them. They bring\ninto my life the inner life of all the observers, thinkers, orators,\nseers, poets, and prophets of the ages, and yet what are books but the\nrecords of men's observations and their thoughts upon those\nobservations? All books are not good. There are books and books. And\njust as some associates are injurious, so are many books. Do not waste\nyour time on the cheap, the trashy, the useless, and injurious. Select\nonly those books from which you are sure you can absorb those things\nthat will be helpful and beneficial.\n\nSome people say they read simply for entertainment. There are times when\nit is well to read with this object in view. If one is weary in mind or\nbody, the brain has been overtaxed, trouble distresses one, then it is\nwell to seek entertainment. For entertainment and the forgetting of\none's cares, troubles, and weariness will mean rest and recuperation.\nIt is well to be able to absorb such from a book that takes away\nthoughts from one's self. But even at such times, choose the best books\nfrom which you may absorb those things that will enable you the better\nto take up the battle of life with renewed energy and courage.\n\nDo you try to keep up with all the latest books? Why? Do you read simply\nto say that you have read, to be able to give expression to the usual\nfashionable gabble on so-called \"current literature\"? It is not the\namount you read, but the amount of good, ennobling, and uplifting\ninfluences that you gain from your reading that makes reading worth\nwhile. No person that lives can read book after book in rapid succession\nand absorb therefrom anything worth while. As well sit down and eat from\nsix o'clock in the morning until twelve o'clock at night and expect the\nbody to be healthful as to read continually and expect the mind to be\nhealthful. It is not eating but assimilation that builds up the body.\nJust so, it is not reading but mental absorption that informs the mind\nand strengthens the soul. One book a year, thoroughly mastered, out of\nwhich you have absorbed helpful, stimulating, invigorating,\nhealth-giving, power-producing thought and action is worth more than a\nthousand books swallowed whole without thought or digestion.\n\nJoaquin Miller says that \"Books are for people who do not think.\" Very\noften this is a correct statement. While it is a good thing to desire\nthe knowledge we can gain from books, it becomes an evil thing when we\ngain all of our knowledge of the world around us in this fashion. If the\nonly thoughts we have are the thoughts we get from books, books are an\ninjury instead of a blessing; a crutch instead of an invigoration.\n\nIn his early life, Edwin Markham, the poet, had but three books, the\nBible, Shakspere, and Bunyan. Yet from these three books and the\ncontemporaneous study of the mountains, valleys, canyons, plains,\norchards, gardens, ocean, sea-beach, and valleys by which he was\nsurrounded, he absorbed thoughts and saw things that enabled him to\nwrite poems that have thrilled and benefited the world.\n\nSir John Lubbock a few years ago chose from all the millions of books\nthat have been published one hundred which he claims comprises all the\nbest literature of all the ages, and more recently still, President\nEliot of Harvard compressed upon a five-foot shelf all the books that he\ndeems necessary for the really thoughtful man to possess.\n\nI am not prepared to accept these or any other limitations as to the\nbooks I shall possess and read, and yet I do want to urge the principle\ninvolved in them upon my readers. Learn to do your own thinking rather\nthan take your thoughts at second hand from what some one else has\nwritten. At the same time I would urge upon you the reading of the\nwritings of our great poets that you may absorb from them their love of\nNature. In this way it may be that you will be won to the love and\nappreciation of that which you have never before known or enjoyed. Just\nas the artist on his canvas sets forth for us a beautiful scene out of\nthe great world that surrounds us and thus focalizes our attention upon\nit, and teaches us to see the beauty which hitherto we had passed\nunobserved, so does the poet focalize our attention upon that which\nhitherto we had passed by and neglected.\n\nLet us read, therefore, by all means, but not as an end in itself. Let\nus read that thereby we may be stimulated to go out into Nature to see,\nfeel, and absorb for ourselves. Many of the books that are \"worth while\"\nwere written by men and women who have been close observers of Nature.\n\nIt is by observation that we absorb the facts and lessons of Nature.\nSome of the most helpful and beautiful books have been written as the\nresult of the exercise of this faculty combined with the reflection that\nalways comes to the truly thoughtful. The sciences are based upon\nobservation, and as soon as one becomes interested in any particular\nline of study it is amazing how many fascinating things begin to crowd\nupon his attention. The great scientist, Agassiz, said that he could\nfind enough to thoroughly and completely fill the whole of a life of\neighty years in as much as he could cover with his one hand. I have\nspent night after night with astronomers whose whole vocation was to\nstudy the heavens and learn the wonderful lessons revealed thereby. One\nof the happiest epochs of my life was to spend two months in the High\nSierras of California with Joseph Le Conte, the great geologist, and his\nkeen and trained eyes revealed to me things in Nature that I had never\nseen before, and life has ever since been richer and fuller because of\nthe experience.\n\nDarwin studied the facts of development of plant and animal life until\nhe wrote a book which has completely revolutionized the thought of the\nworld. He spent years in studying the movements and influences upon the\nground of the common earth-worm and showed us how great a friend to\nhumanity is this apparently insignificant and useless creature.\n\nSir John Lubbock, the eminent statesman and philosopher, busy with the\naffairs of city and nation, spent years in studying the actions and life\nof the tiny ant and has given us most fascinating accounts of what he\nsaw with philosophical deductions therefrom.\n\nThe Audubons spent their lives in studying the animals and birds of\nNorth America and their books have been a source of intense delight and\ninstruction to all those that have been privileged to read them and see\ntheir marvelous illustrations.\n\nMichelet, the great French scholar, studied the bee and then wrote a\nbook about this busy insect that is as fascinating as a romance and as\nthrilling and interesting as a drama.\n\nJohn Ward Stimson studied the various forms of snow crystals, salts, of\nrock substances; the natural forms of leaves, their systems of veins;\nthe spines of the various cactuses; the marking on the furs of animals\nand the backs of reptiles, snakes, lizards, toads, etc.; indeed, all the\nmulti-form shapes, spirals, curves, angles, lines, etc., of Nature, and\nwrote a book on them entitled _The Gate Beautiful_ which one great\ncritic and poet affirms is the greatest book, outside of the Bible and\nShakspere, the world has ever known. And thus might I go on page after\npage, merely suggesting what men with the seeing eye and understanding\nheart have given to the world as the result of their observations of\nNature.\n\nWho would not observe in this fashion? Who would not like thus to fill\nup the mind and the soul with such wonderful facts and beautiful truths\ndeduced therefrom?\n\nHenry D. Thoreau, John Burroughs, Philip Gilbert Hamerton, John Muir,\nJohn C. Van Dyke, and W. C. Bartlett have studied Nature in the trees,\ngrasses, the birds, the animals, and the sunrises and sunsets until they\nhave been able to thrill the world with the record of those things that\nthey have seen and felt.\n\nErnest Thompson Seton, W. J. Long, and C. G. D. Roberts have studied the\nwild life of animals until they have written books that have charmed\nperhaps millions of readers by revealing to them phases of animal life\nthat they had never believed existed.\n\nJack London goes up into Alaska and with trained eye observes the wild\nwastes of snow and winter desolation and comes back and writes books\nthat win him fame and wealth, because of his power to see and tell what\nhis seeing makes him feel.\n\nThis world is full of beauty, of knowledge, of joy, to the hungry mind\nand soul, and its treasures are all free, are all to be had merely for\nthe asking, for the seeing, for the reaching out.\n\nNothing repays every effort more abundantly than does Nature. She\npreaches more eloquently, because more simply, purely, and directly than\nany divine that ever occupied pulpit. She is the direct voice of God to\nmankind, ordained by the Infinite himself. Few men in sacerdotal robes\never come to us with this divine song upon their lips. Joaquin Miller\nnever wrote truer words than:\n\n      The woods keep repeating\n    The old sacred sermons whatever you ask.\n\nIt may be that as you read over what I have said of the observations and\nachievements of the scientists and others that you will say that you\nhave no such opportunity for wide observation as this. It is not\nnecessary that you should have. Let me suggest to you how to begin the\ndevelopment of your powers of observation in order that you may in your\nway reap as beautiful a harvest as those men have in theirs.\n\nDavid was only a poor shepherd boy, but while out tending his flocks by\nday and night he learned the wonderful lessons that he afterwards\nincorporated into the Psalms. It was his observations, without\nscientific knowledge, without observatories, without telescopes, or\nother scientific instruments, that gave him such clear knowledge of the\nstars that he was able to sing those wonderful words that have thrilled\nall mankind ever since they were uttered, \"The heavens declare the glory\nof God, and the firmament showeth His handiwork.\" While a shepherd boy\nwithout training, without education, he so observed the things about him\nthat when, later in life, the power of expression came, he was able to\nsing messages that will live so long as man lives.\n\nSo, like David, begin to study the common things about you. Observe the\nflowers. Observe their loveliness. Study the infinite variety of their\nform, color, fragrance; compare them one with another; ask yourself why\none appeals to you more than another; wherein the special beauty and\nattractiveness lies of one flower over another for you. No one can study\nthe flowers and not realize that the Divine Creator loves beauty, for\nthe infinitude of varieties that are presented, from the delicate\norchids and cactuses of the tropical forests and barren deserts down to\nthe plainest sunflower and dandelion, are all rich in a beauty and\nattractiveness all their own.\n\nIna Coolbrith, the California poet, in one of her sweetest songs, says:\n\n    I will out in the gold of the blossoming mould\n    And sit at the Master's feet,\n    And the love my heart would speak,\n    I will fold in the lily's rim,\n    That the lips of the blossom more pure and meet\n    May offer it up to Him.\n\nSee what a beautiful conception! Her heart was full of desire to lift\nher prayer of thankfulness, praise, and supplication up to God, but\nfeeling her own inadequacy and incompleteness, and realizing the perfect\npurity of the delicate lily, she felt that she might wrap her prayer up\nin the rim of the flower and thus make it acceptable to the God of\npurity and immaculate whiteness.\n\nThere never was a flower yet that was not a miracle to the observing eye\nand thinking mind. How does it shape all that beauty? From whence does\nit gain those delicate tints, tones, and colors? From what laboratory\ndoes it extract those exquisitely delicate and delicious odors?\n\nOh, wake up to the beauty of the common grass, the common flowers, the\ncommon trees. Open your eyes to see, open your hearts to feel, cultivate\nyour hunger for these common things and then absorb and assimilate them.\n\nBut the flowers and trees are but merely a part of the great world of\nNature from which one may absorb things beautiful and grand.\n\nPeople who live by the sea or by an inland lake have wonderful\nopportunities for the observation of grandeur, sublimity, and beauty.\nJoaquin Miller once stood by the seashore and wrote these words of\npoetry:\n\n    The sun lay molten in the sea\n    Of sand, and all the sea was rolled\n    In one broad, bright intensity\n    Of gold and gold and gold and gold.\n\nHe saw the gold of beauty which in this materialistic age few men deem\nof value. But when all the gold of commerce has disappeared, the gold of\nbeauty is a treasure stored up in one's soul that will accompany him\nthrough all the ages of eternity. The one is ephemeral and useful only\nto provide the food, clothing, and shelter we need for the body, the\nother, permanent, enduring, lasting, that clothes the mind with\nbrilliant images and the soul with helpful and stimulating aspirations.\n\nIt is one of the mistakes of life to overlook the apparently small,\ntrifling and near-by things, in the vain desire to see some great,\nlarge, important thing. The things about us are the essential things of\nour life. Too often we deem them unimportant. We are so accustomed to\nseeing them that we pay no attention to them, yet these things were\nworth the thought of the Almighty Creator. Every blade of grass, every\nleaf of every tree is a revelation of some thought of God, hence can\nnever be beneath the notice of mankind. This careless and unobservant\nattitude of mind shows our ignorance and our unwisdom. God's mysteries\nare before us and we refuse to read them. As Walt Whitman says: \"Our\nstreets are strewn with leaves from the book of God and we see them\nnot.\" We pass them by. Let us learn to pick up these divine mysteries\nand in their sweet, beautiful simplicity read their sublime lessons to\nour own hearts.\n\nWho would think of learning anything from the mists? Yet Joaquin Miller\nonce wrote these words:\n\n    Behold the silvered mists that rise\n      From all-night toiling in the corn,\n\n    The mists have duties up the skies,\n      The skies have duties with the morn;\n    While all the world is full of earnest care\n    To make the fair world still more wondrous fair.\n\nIn one of his poems, one of our great poets tells the story of a number\nof poor people who came to see their king who was to approach with his\ngayly dressed bands of music and all the pomp and ceremony attendant\nupon kingship. The story goes, however, that the Captain of the Province\ndrove the poor people away and refused to allow them to be present when\nthe king passed through.\n\nLet the poet now tell his own story:\n\n    Lo, then a soft-voiced stranger said:\n      \"Come ye with me a little space.\n    I know where torches gold and red\n      Gleam down a peaceful, ample place;\n    Where song and perfume fill the restful air,\n    And men speak scarce at all. The King is there.\"\n\n    They passed; they sat a grass-set hill--\n      What king hath carpets like to this?\n    What king hath music like the thrill\n      Of crickets 'mid these silences--\n    These perfumed silences, that rest upon\n    The soul like sunlight on a hill at dawn?\n\n    Behold what blessings in the air!\n      What benedictions in the dew!\n    These olives lift their arms in prayer;\n      They turn their leaves, God reads them through;\n    Yon lilies where the falling water sings\n    Are fairer-robed than choristers of kings.\n\n\n    Lift now your heads! yon golden bars\n      That build the porch of heaven, seas\n    Of silver-sailing golden stars--\n      Yea, these are yours, and all of these!\n    For yonder king hath never yet been told\n    Of silver seas that sail these ships of gold.\n\n    They turned, they raised their heads on high;\n      They saw, the first time saw and knew,\n    The awful glories of the sky,\n      The benedictions of the dew;\n    And from that day His poor were richer far\n    Than all such kings as keep where follies are.\n\nHave you experienced these blessings in the air? Have you felt these\nbenedictions in the dew? Have you seen the exquisite robes of the\nlilies? Have you seen the ships of gold sailing through the silver seas?\nAnd the bars of gold that build the porch of heaven?\n\nYou have rushed to see the pomp of kings. You have rushed to see the\nglitter and tinsel of the circus procession. You have struggled with\ndesperation that you and your wife might mingle with the gayly dressed\nthrong at some fanciful revel. Why be so eager for these vain shows and\nyet not see the true beauty, real gorgeousness, undying splendor of\nthese other outward manifestations of the thoughts of God?\n\nEager desire for the vain pomp and circumstance of things reveals the\nabnormal and depraved appetite just the same as the glutton's and\ndrunkard's cravings do. The more they are fed the more fiercely their\nfires rage and the less satisfied one becomes. It is only real things\nthat will satisfy the hunger of the immortal soul, and then one of the\nremarkable things is how the trivial and small things will produce\nsatisfaction.\n\nAs George Macdonald says in his fascinating story, _Sir Gibbie_:\n\n    It is wonderful upon how little those rare natures capable of making\n    the most of things will live and thrive. There is a great deal more\n    to be got out of things than is generally got out of them, whether\n    the thing be a chapter of the Bible or a yellow turnip, and the\n    marvel is that those who use the most material should so often be\n    those that show the least result in strength or character.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nRADIANCIES OF DEATH\n\n\nFor centuries the human mind has been afraid, disturbed, distressed, at\nthe thought of death; the uncertainty of the beyond; \"shall we know each\nother there?\" and the thousand and one questions that have arisen as to\nwhat life, if any, there is beyond the grave. Years ago, in my own\ninnerness, all sense of fear, of disturbance, of distress at the thought\nof death vanished, never again to appear. I have no resentment at the\nthought of death, either for myself, or those I love. I expect it for us\nall, and am neither surprised nor hurt when it comes. There may be the\nsense of physical loss, but that is all. There is no sense of _real_\nloss of anything except the temporal, the physical, that which, in the\nvery course of Nature, must pass through the change we call Death.\n\nHence I feel I have definite and positive radiancies upon this subject,\nwhich I am assured will bring comfort and peace to those who can enter\ninto the spirit of them, and accept the same assurances that have come\nto me.\n\nThe first of these that I would radiate with clearness and fullness is\nthat _man is a spiritual being and not physical_. Much of the fear,\ndread, distress, pain of death has come from the mistaken belief that\nman is physical. Death has come and robbed us of the life of the\nphysical. The flesh has become cold, inanimate, lifeless, therefore dead\nand lost to us. The mother has grieved herself into sickness and a\nruined life because of the death of her babe. Husbands have wept long\nfor the wives they thought they had lost. Sorrow, grief, sadness,\nwoe--these seem the natural accompaniments of death. Our customs, our\nlanguage, our literature, our poetry, our art, are full of the\nexpressions of this thought--the trappings of woe, the solemn\ncountenance, the hushed voice, the somber garments, the widow's weeds,\nthe black band of bereavement, the hearse, the funeral marches, the\nwatch of the dead, the lighted candles, the solemn funeral addresses,\nthe tears, the grief that will not be comforted, all speak of the\nsadness attributed to death. Tennyson's _In Memoriam_, Browning's _La\nSaziaz_, and hundreds, thousands, of lesser poems have been written on\nthe woe, the grief, the cruelty of death.\n\nWhile I long for the physical presence of my beloved ones as much as do\nother men, I would radiate my belief, my restful assurance, in the love\nthat exists, _persists_, _lives_, after what we call the death of the\nbody, and that, therefore, to me, save for the loss of the physical\npresence, there is absolutely no death, no need for sorrow, grief, pain,\nor woe.\n\nAs birth itself is a death of the embryonic life, so is death a birth\ninto the life beyond--the life of the spirit, the life, free,\nunhampered, unhindered by the flesh. Browning expresses it perfectly in\nhis wonderful _Pisgah Sight_, where he stands and looks \"over Jordan\"\ninto the Promised Land:\n\n    Good to forgive,\n    Best to forget;\n    Living we fret,\n    Dying we live.\n    Fretless and free, soul,\n    Clap thy pinion,\n    Earth have dominion,\n    Body, o'er thee.\n\nThe Indians' attitude towards death is very beautiful to me. They regard\nit as a natural change; a something to be expected, to be looked for,\nand therefore to be met with bravery, courage, and fearlessness. While I\nknow they grieve deeply at unexpected deaths by accidents, sudden\ndisease, in war, etc., and make a loud show of their grief, that is\nmerely the child part of their nature asserting itself. When a man, a\nwoman, has lived out the natural term of years and he, she, feels death\napproaching, retirement is made to some quiet and solitary place, where\nDeath is awaited with calmness, serenity, and fearlessness. This is\nwhat I would radiate, both for myself and those whom I love. I believe\nwith all my heart in the great goodness of God; in the progressiveness\nof the human soul towards the godhead possible for us.\n\nI look forward with confidence and eager anticipation to the adventures\nnew and brave that are to meet me when I go beyond. I have had a grand\nand glorious time here. In spite of hardships, sorrows, griefs, pains,\nsickness, bereavement, poverties, and the pains that come from a\nrecognition of my own mental and spiritual imperfections, I have had a\nwonderfully rich, joyous, and blessed life. I am thankful for it all. As\nI look back upon it I regret only those things wherein I have brought\npain and sorrow to others. As for myself, all the pains and distresses\nare gone and forgotten; the joys and delights, the pleasures and\nhappinesses, only, remain, and for these I am thankful beyond all power\nof expression.\n\nShall I, then, be afraid that the Supreme Power who has so blessed me in\nthis life will be unable, or unwilling, to equally bless me in the one\nto come? Fearless and unafraid I await the issue, nay, with glad\nconfidence I will welcome it when it comes.\n\nHence, again to quote Browning, whom I love and revere for his great\nhelpfulness:\n\n    I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,\n      And bade me creep past.\n\n    No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers\n      The heroes of old;\n    Bear the brunt, in a minute pay, glad, life's arrears\n      Of pain, darkness and cold.\n\nI want to meet death in just that spirit; open-eyed, in full possession\nof my senses, if that be possible, that I may have full cognizance of\nthe experience as I pass through it. But let it come as it may, I want\nto be ready to meet and greet it.\n\nIn many of his poems Walt Whitman fully expresses my conceptions, and\nJoaquin Miller's many sweet poems re\u00ebcho the thoughts that come to me,\nagain and again, as I contemplate the sleep that has no earthly\nawakening. Take his beautiful _River of Rest_:\n\n      A beautiful stream is the River of Rest;\n    The still, wide waters sweep clear and cold,\n      A tall mast crosses a star in the west,\n    A white sail gleams in the west world's gold:\n      It leans to the shore of the River of Rest--\n      The lily-lined shore of the River of Rest.\n\n      The boatman rises, he reaches a hand,\n    He knows you well, he will steer you true,\n      And far, so far, from all ills upon land,\n    From hates, from fates that pursue and pursue;\n      Far over the lily-lined River of Rest--\n      Dear mystical, magical River of Rest.\n\n      A storied, sweet stream is this River of Rest;\n    The souls of all time keep its ultimate shore;\n      And journey you east or journey you west,\n\n    Unwilling, or willing, sure-footed or sore,\n      You surely will come to this River of Rest--\n      This beautiful, beautiful River of Rest.\n\nAnd elsewhere he says:\n\n    I go, I know not where, but know I will not die,\n      And know I will be gainer going to that somewhere;\n    For in that hereafter, afar beyond the bended sky,\n      Bread and butter will not figure in the bill of fare,\n      Nor will the soul be judged by what the flesh may wear.\n\nHere is the spirit in which he describes and meets death:\n\n    Come forward here to me, ye who have a fear of death,\n      Come down, far down, even to the dark waves' rim,\n    And take my hand, and feel my calm, low breath;\n      How peaceful all! How still and sweet! The sight is dim,\n      And dreamy as a distant sea. And melodies do swim\n      Around us here as afar-off vesper's holy hymn.\n      This is death! With folded hands I wait and welcome him.\n\nThus, in very deed, and very truth, would I await and welcome him. And\nso I would radiate, now and ever, being sorry for my failings and\nfailures, but thankful beyond measure for any small degree of\nhelpfulness, joy, happiness, blessing I may have brought to others, and\nwith only one great desire towards the earth and its inhabitants, viz.,\nto be remembered as one who loved and sought to bless his fellow men.\n\n\n\n\nBOOKS BY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES\n\n\n    PALOU'S LIFE AND APOSTOLIC LABORS OF PADRE FR. 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Cloth, $1.00; postpaid,\n    $1.10.\n\n    AN APPRECIATION OF CHARLES WARREN STODDARD. $1.00.\n\n    THE GUIDING LIGHT. In paper 50c, cloth $1.00.\n\n    A LITTLE JOURNEY TO STRANGE PLACES AND PEOPLES. Fully illustrated,\n    269 pages, $1.00 net, postage 10c.\n\n\n\n\n_New Limp-Leather Edition_\n\nMARK TWAIN\n\n_On Thin Paper_\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nMessrs. Harper & Brothers have just published the last volumes in this\nnew edition of Mark Twain's works. The contents of the volumes is the\nsame, with slight exceptions, as in the Uniform Trade Edition. The price\nof this uncommonly fine Limp-Leather Edition is: Titles complete in one\nvolume, $1.75 net each; Titles in two volumes, $1.50 net each. This\nmakes a total of $39.00 net. But when sets are bought complete the price\nis $37.00 net, a saving of $2.00. The titles and prices are:\n\n  THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN           _net_ $1.75\n  THE $30,000 BEQUEST                           _net_ 1.75\n  INNOCENTS ABROAD, 2 Vols. 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Illustrated. Crown 8vo                    $1.75\n  CHRISTIAN SCIENCE. Crown 8vo                                  1.75\n  CONNECTICUT YANKEE. Crown 8vo                                 1.75\n  FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR. Crown 8vo                              2.00\n  GILDED AGE. Crown 8vo                                         2.00\n  HADLEYBURG, ETC. Crown 8vo                                    1.75\n  HUCKLEBERRY FINN. Crown 8vo                                   1.75\n  INNOCENTS ABROAD. Crown 8vo                                   2.00\n  JOAN OF ARC. Crown 8vo                                        2.50\n  LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Crown 8vo                            1.75\n  PRINCE AND PAUPER. Crown 8vo                                  1.75\n  PUDD'NHEAD WILSON. Crown 8vo                                  1.75\n  ROUGHING IT. Crown 8vo                                        2.00\n  SKETCHES NEW AND OLD. Crown 8vo                               1.75\n  THE $30,000 BEQUEST. Crown 8vo                                1.75\n  TOM SAWYER ABROAD. Crown 8vo                                  1.75\n  TOM SAWYER. Crown 8vo                                         1.75\n  TRAMP ABROAD. Crown 8vo                                       2.00\n            _Set of 18 vols. in a box_                             33.50\n  MARK TWAIN'S SPEECHES. Crown 8vo.                  _net_ 2.00\n  ADAM'S DIARY. Illustrated                                     1.00\n  A DOG'S TALE. Illustrated                                     1.00\n  DOUBLE-BARRELLED DETECTIVE STORY. Illustrated                 1.50\n  EDITORIAL WILD OATS. Illustrated                              1.00\n  EVE'S DIARY. Illustrated. Post 8vo                            1.00\n  HOW TO TELL A STORY. Post 8vo                                 1.50\n  IS SHAKESPEARE DEAD? Post 8vo                      _net_ 1.25\n  TOM SAWYER. Holiday Edition. Illustrated. 8vo      _net_ 2.00\n            Same in box                                       _net_ 2.00\n  THE JUMPING FROG. Illustrated. Post 8vo                       1.00\n  A HORSE'S TAIL. Illustrated. Post 8vo                         1.00\n  CAPTAIN STORMFIELD'S VISIT TO HEAVEN. Illustrated. Post 8vo   1.00\n  TRAVELS AT HOME. 12mo                            _School_ .50\n  TRAVELS IN HISTORY. 12mo                         _School_ .50\n  SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY SOUVENIR. Illustrated. Paper. 4to          .50\n  BIBLIOGRAPHY OF MARK TWAIN'S WORKS. 8vo        _net_ 5.00\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nItalic text is denoted by _underscores_.\n\nObvious printer's errors corrected.\n\nEvery effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as\npossible, including obsolete and variant spellings, non-standard\npunctuation, inconsistently hyphenated words, and other inconsistencies.","title":"Living the Radiant Life: A Personal Narrative","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":69179}