When we read in the public press the story of the Titanic disaster, how after all the boats had gone, and the ill-fated ship poised, before she took her awful plunge, how the doomed souls stood on her decks and lifted their trembling voices in unison with the brave orchestra to the strain of "Nearer My God to Thee,"—something clutches at our heartstrings, and we find the divine reality trying to come to the surface to express itself in that universal friendship out of which heroes are made. When we stand by the bedside, watching the fitful, final breaths of a well-loved child, or of an old, honored and faithful mother, there creeps into our consciousness feelings with which we are strangers, but they are ours, part of the divinity in us which in the work-a-day-world we stifle and crush. Friendship and no other human quality brings this divine element into our actual life. Those who have never had a friend have never solved the riddle of human nature.

We must remember, however, that there are those whose lives are denials of this divinity. They are incapable of true friendship, and they, in prosperous days, deride the sentiment involved and consider any reference to such matters as silly and mawkish. These blustering heroes, however, are the ones who shriek the loudest when fate places them on sinking decks.

Strive to be worthy of a true friendship. Be willing to give of the best that is in you. We need the inspiration of the divine that is hidden in us, we should not crush or fail to acknowledge the presence of the still, small voice that speaks of love and for love. Remember, that, "By your friends shall ye be known."

EXPLANATION OF SYMBOLS

Used in the Following Three Illustrations



A Alcoholic—meaning decidedly intemperate, a drunkard. B Blind I Insane Sy Syphilitic C Criminalistic M Migrainous Sx Sexually immoral D Deaf Neu. Neurotic T Tuberculosis E Epileptic Par. Paralytic W Wanderer, tramp G Goitre

HEREDITARY FEEBLE-MINDEDNESS[A]



The above chart illustrates the first great law of hereditary feeble-mindedness; that if both parents are blighted all offsprings will be blighted. The family represented is plainly very low grade. It is one of that kind found in every community, growing like rank weeds to menace society. It is small wonder that with production like this permitted criminality springs full-fledged into the world.



This chart is particularly interesting, showing as it does the marriage of a normal man with, first a normal woman, and subsequently with feeble-minded women. The taint of the feeble mind is inevitable. Whereas the grandchildren by his second marriage appear normal there is always the danger of their progeny being blighted by the taint that is in their blood. The horror of the third marriage is too evident.

[Footnote A: "Feeble-mindedness; Its Causes and Consequences," Goddard, The Macmillan Company.]

MAKING RESOLVES.—In a preceding chapter I remarked, that every human thought, deed, act, prayer, etc., must conform to certain laws, if by their use we desired to achieve results. We know this is true, but we do not always obey the rule, and in the end we wonder why we are failures.

Psychology has formulated laws, based upon actual experiment, regulating every department of mental endeavor, or every branch of systematized mental achievement. These laws show that there are fixed rules, by which mental effort is regulated, systematized and classified, and that the human mind conforms to these laws even when working in ignorance of them. No matter how we may deduce facts, or reason from analogy, we obey fundamental principles.

In a recent magazine article I read the following:

"This is my own story of why and how I rose, fell and rose again. It would not be told but for the fact that I have learned by an Experience mixed with some bitterness, that all such things are governed by fixed business laws and rules and move always in obedience to them. There is as I know, a law of failure and a law of success. There is even a law of mediocrity. Every man is controlled by that one of these three laws which he elects to invoke and to follow."

"The laws themselves are fixed and unchanging; man is the only variable unit in the equation. He succeeds, he fails or he slumps into mediocrity according to the law with which he voluntarily or by predisposition puts himself in harmony. This is my belief, based on my own adventures with these laws and my observation of other men who have dined and lived with them on intimate, though not always friendly, terms."

This was written by a successful business man in an article reviewing the "ups and downs" of his business experiences. It does one good to read such confessions. To the thinking individual it suggests the need of serious, whole-souled, conscientious effort. If these laws exist,—as they most certainly do,—what is the use of trying to achieve results in a wrong way? Why not conform to these laws and concentrate our effort in the right direction? A prodigious amount of energy is wasted in efforts to beat the game. One may scheme and contrive until all ambition withers and hope fades, but no one will ever find a satisfactory substitute for hard work. Many lives have been frittered away in the foolish attempt to find the "easy road." It is doing the little things of life conscientiously that counts. The humble hen does one thing well. She lays eggs to the extent of three hundred million dollars per year, in this country alone. If we combine her egg yield with her chicken industry we find her harvest yields the enormous sum of six hundred and twenty million dollars per year.

We are precisely what we deserve to be: we fit for what we are fitted for. Weaklings are sent to the rear, fighters are always in front.

The young wife may resolve to win; it depends upon how she begins to mold herself for larger possibilities. If she cannot succeed in small things she will not fit when the task is bigger. Suppose you resolve to be considerate and agreeable to every soul you meet for one month. For one month you will subject yourself to a rigid test, you will be considerate and agreeable, no matter what the conditions are or the provocation may be to break your word.

It is a fact that most failures are directly attributable to laziness rather than to lack of ability or poor health, or any other cause. It is the most difficult thing in the world for some people to exert themselves to "make the effort" to succeed. They just do enough to "hold their job" or to earn a living, though the possibilities around them are rich in promise. Many know what they ought to do, but they don't seem to be able to do it. Their ambition is lacking; they elect to travel the road to failure.

If the young wife resolves to be considerate and agreeable for one month, she is the right kind of young wife. The right impulse is working within her. The very fact that she makes the resolve proves this. Most people are influenced by two motives, necessity and pleasure. They work because they have to work to exist. But a great deal of the work is indifferently done. The woman who skims over her household duties in a disinterested and frequently slovenly way, will spend much thought and a great amount of time to excel in appearance and in attaining results at a church fair, for example; or she will work assiduously sewing every afternoon and evening on dresses, etc., to shine during a two weeks' vacation at the sea shore, while her husband is being indifferently fed and her home all but neglected. To attain pleasure one will actually work efficiently though the method and the motive may be ethically wrong. So, when a young wife actually resolves to do something which has a high moral significance and which she is not compelled to do she is being actuated by the right kind of principle, she is following the law or instinct of success.

THE FORMULA OF SUCCESS.—Successful men and women are frequently asked to give their formula of success. There is no formula of success except hard work. Every successful man or woman is a hard worker. There is no exception to this rule. We often personally know of men or women who "rise in the world" and sometimes we look upon them as lucky dogs, and wonder why fortune does not favor us. If we analyze the daily life of these seemingly lucky individuals we will find that they plan and work and scheme while you and I play and amuse ourselves. They have a certain system which they adhere to under all circumstances. They have worked hard so long that it has become a habit,—a habit that brings happiness and success. All of them have had their ups and downs, their worries and battles, but they have faced them in the front ranks, they have never become discouraged, they have been inspired and impelled by the conviction that some day the tide of battle would change. On that day they were determined to be ready and willing to take advantage of the turn of the wheel of fortune.

Study the work of the next successful man or woman you meet, and see if the rule does not hold true. It isn't the kind of energy that is generated that makes the distinction between success and failure: it is the way in which the energy is used. To win means concentration of energy; let the energy be dissipated over many things and failure becomes a certainty. There isn't a really successful man or woman in existence who does not deserve success, and who has not worked hard for it.

Success, fame, and the efforts of friends may not give us the happiness which we yearn for, but there is one thing that will always steer us safely into port—one thing that will bring us the blessing of happiness though all things else fail us—and that is hard work.

WHEN FORTUNE KNOCKS.—Fortune is said to knock at the door of every man once in a lifetime. That once is all the time, for the truth is that fortune is knocking at our doors every day. The trouble is that we are not prepared to take advantage of her importuning habits. Fortune has her laws, and we cannot enter her chariot except by obeying these laws. The young wife who resolves to be considerate and agreeable for one month is obeying one of her laws, because, if she keeps her promise, she will have learnt more than she ever did in any preceding month of her experience. She will find, for example, that people are really more amiable and agreeable than she ever thought they were; that, because of the restraint she is exerting on her temper and self-control, she is growing stronger temperamentally. She has more patience, and she is more thorough in little things; her environment is enlarging and life is more interesting. The month's experience will teach her something of her own capabilities and resources, and she will be so interested and encouraged that she will determine to experiment more and in other directions. She is experiencing the psychology of character building—the most fascinating study of that most fascinating riddle, human nature. Fortune always favors the brave—it will favor her because she is working in the right direction—she is obeying the law of success.

To resolve is to obey—to know what you want, to desire to succeed, to be willing to sacrifice self, to attain results, to smile at adversity, to be patient, truthful, honest, unselfish, sympathetic, in short to work hard every minute and all the time.



CHAPTER XXVI

"Habit is a cable: we weave a thread of it each day, and it becomes so strong we cannot break it."

HORACE MANN.

SPARE MOMENTS

The Study Habit—The Germ of Self-culture—Millions of Tiny Cells in Our Brain—The Economic Value of the Study Habit—Two Ways of Gaining Knowledge—Happiness in the Company of Those Striving for Higher Ideals—A Young Wife's Incentive to Self-culture—The Difference Between Moral and Mental Disloyalty—The Study Habit Creates Its Own Interest—Nosophobia, or the Dread of Disease—Keep Still and Be Well.

THE STUDY HABIT.—Every individual differs from every other individual according to his habits. The nature of our habits fixes our status in the struggle of life. If we get into the habit of thinking evil thoughts, we live in that atmosphere. Health is a habit, so also is success. Honesty, virtue, vice, procrastination, contentment, fault-finding, grumbling, candy eating, gossiping, drinking, sleeping, religion, friends, life itself, are habits. Life is what we make it. "As the man thinketh in his heart, so he is." Some habits are good, others are bad. Certain habits are constructive, others are destructive. If we get into the habit of doing our work thoroughly and regularly, according to some definite system, we encourage the habits of contentment, calmness, efficiency, and happiness. If we do our work spasmodically, irregularly, without system, if we gossip between times, we are eternally trying to catch up, so we encourage the habits of procrastination, discontent, inefficiency, fault-finding, and failure. We must be master or victim of our habits. We must succeed, or we must fail. The immutable law of life permits of no standing still. We are either progressing or we are retrogressing. One of the best habits, if not the very best, that the young wife can cultivate in her new home is the study habit. It is eminently a constructive habit.

The germ of self-culture is latent in every healthy mind. It is an exceedingly virile microbe. It may begin as a fad but intrinsically it grows as a virtue. Environment may give it birth but its roots may not be circumscribed. They seek nourishment from every far and near spring and well, and its branches spread out to the north and south, and east and west, and its leaves suck into its heart, health and strength and color and fragrance, from the everlasting sun.

In our brain are millions of tiny cells. Each cell is capable of a single thought. When we begin as children, we learn letters first, then words, then sentences or thoughts. In due time we have a sufficient number of cells, each with its photographed letter or word or thought. From this stock we reason and think and plan. These are the letters and words and thoughts of ordinary life. We have millions of cells left, and the brain is a tireless, ceaseless worker. If we keep on feeding it more letters, more words, more thoughts, it is satisfied, but if we stop, if we stagnate, it keeps on working, but it can only use the words and thoughts we have given it. Ceaselessly it rearranges these words in its effort to live. We are feeding it nothing, its circulation becomes poor, its vitality weak. Some day it arranges its limited number of words into a new thought, a bad thought, our idle mind grasps the significance of the new thought, and we give birth to a new piece of scandal, or we commit a crime. The brain is pleased, because the execution of the new bad impulse brought more blood, more vitality to it, and it gets the habit of thinking bad thoughts and conveying evil impulses. They were the product of idleness of mind. And as a matter of statistical fact, all tragedies, crimes, vices, scandal, gossip and misery are direct products of mental inertness or idleness.

The minds of the grumbler, the gossip, the thief, the criminal, are poor, empty, starved, wayward minds, and their brains are small, poorly nourished, sickly brains. The young wife with a moment of leisure who has a starved, empty mind, is a victim of her passions, her surroundings and her ungoverned impulses. The young wife whose brain is being fed by the study habit, is self-contained, is master of her impulses and her passions. The mental latitude of one is limited to caprice, envy, discontent, hate and jealousy; the other is light-hearted, charitable, just, contented, and happy.

Shut the two in a dungeon and the owner of the starved, empty brain will go mad. The other will find hope in her heart, and in her brain, the children of her thoughts will troop in, bringing solace and cheer and courage.

From a practical standpoint the study habit has an economic value. It preserves health and peace of mind, it enhances efficiency, it broadens our sympathies and charities, and it unifies the home circle. It is an easy habit to acquire, and it sustains its interest: it is inexpensive. The Carnegie libraries, correspondence schools, the university extension plan of lectures, etc., contribute in a large measure to its easy acquirement, and to the success with which it may be pursued.

TWO WAYS OF GAINING KNOWLEDGE.—We gain knowledge in two ways. First, by experience, which means mingling with people, exchanging ideas, discussing topics, listening to lectures, sermons, talks, etc. Second, by reading and studying. We must read and study in order to really understand and assimilate what we learn from experience, and what we hear discussed in lectures, sermons and talks. As soon as we become interested in a study we begin to rise above what we may call the everyday plane. We desire to know more, and when we know a good deal about one subject, we want to know something about kindred subjects, so we extend the latitude of our knowledge. It is marvelous how the habit grows. It is not work, it is pleasure. We long for spare moments to renew the study, and as we experience the pleasure the growth of our mind affords, we improve in all directions. Every cell in the brain sends out vibrant impulses, new life, new hope. Health means more, life has a meaning. We find happiness in the company of those who are striving for higher ideals. We perform even our menial tasks with more care and with more interest, because we grasp their true meaning, and we know that we cannot aspire to higher ideals if we are dishonest in little things. So the study habit makes better men and better women of us, and it adds to the pleasure of life all the real pleasure there is in living. The power to analyze, to conceive, and to create are the highest pleasures mankind possesses, and they can only be attained in any degree by education and cultivation.

It is not easy to explain to the average superficially educated person the satisfaction to be derived from original or creative thinking. One must progress far enough in mental self-culture before it becomes a pleasure, almost an intoxication. Up to a certain point the acquirement of knowledge is a task, an effort, a seeming self-sacrifice; beyond that point it is a labor of love, a pleasure, a consecration. The crude, discordant efforts of a child, when it first begins to acquire a musical education, very convincingly illustrates the condition of mind of the beginner in self-culture. The task is a toil and the results do not stimulate further spontaneous effort. The same child, however, may successfully pass through the various gradations of a musical career and arrive at a time when effort will submerge itself; when the result of the knowledge acquired will be so gratifying that it will no longer be a toil; when the study will be pursued because of the actual pleasure it affords.

The only worthwhile thing in life is mind. If one does not develop the mind, it is possible to live an entire lifetime and not really live at all. To exist is not to live. All the amenities of life contribute to existence, not to life itself. To live is to create, to give, to endow.

If a book contains one original thought, it will live. Few books contain more than one thought, one inspiration. If it, however, suffuses that one thought into the hearts of men its existence will have been justified. We have no criterion or standard by which to judge the ethical value of a thought. If a thought conveys an inspiration to another and is productive of moral growth it has life and value because it creates.

To exist is to blindly follow the primal instincts. To live is to think, to reason, to grow mentally. Consequently we must have ideals, we must cling tenaciously to these ideals, and, "We must know what we want."

THE YOUNG WIFE'S INCENTIVE TO SELF-CULTURE.—A young wife has a real incentive to self-culture if she hopes to maintain her position in the home and in the affection of her husband. A man has always the advantage of being actively engaged in one of the two ways of acquiring knowledge. He mingles with people. He gains considerable knowledge and frequently cultivation unwittingly. He grows with his business, and as it increases he becomes more important in the community. He mingles with keener, wide-awake business men, his wits are sharpened, his brain must be alert and virile. A healthy active brain grows, it is responsive, it absorbs knowledge. As he climbs higher, he wears off the crude corners and assumes a worldly cultivation, which men of sound business sense can adapt to suit any social exigency. The wife does not have these advantages, and, unless she appreciates this point, she is very apt to remain where she was when she married, so far as mental culture is concerned. Now to be wife in a true sense, she must be companion. She must keep pace with his prosperity on the one hand and with his intelligence on the other. The more culture and knowledge a man attains the more critical he becomes, the more cultivated his tastes, the more cultivation he demands. Qualities that did not always grate upon his sensibilities become acutely objectionable in his higher mental state. A man may be loyal at heart, but he resents the inaptitude of a wife who fails to keep the mental pace. He is willing to give his wife the benefits of his material prosperity, but he cannot give her the finer evidences of his higher mentality, because, while she may have proved true as a wife, she failed as a companion. She fell behind in culture. He cannot give that which she cannot receive. The young wife should appreciate the difference between moral disloyalty on the part of her husband, and mental disloyalty. He is the transgressor in the first, and she is the culprit in the second delinquency. We must meet a situation as it exists. Moralizing does not change the conditions. A man and woman may be temperamentally suited to each other to-day, and in a few years may be wholly dissimilar in tastes. If being a wife simply implied more loyalty and domestic efficiency there could be no just cause for complaint if she failed in every other respect, but it does not. To be a wife more than in name, one must be friend, companion, confidant. No one, much less a husband, selects as a friend, companion, and confidant, an individual whose tastes are not in sympathy with his own, who does not understand the viewpoint, one in whom he cannot confide, or one whose intelligence is crude. A man can obtain a housekeeper anywhere, but he cannot buy a home-maker, a companion, a friend, or a confidant.

The study habit will create the interest. If you once get it, only death can take it from you. If you become interested, no man can grow away from you, and no man can take from you the worlds it will open up. You must, however, begin the study habit with the determination to acquire knowledge. You must want intensely to succeed, and you must be willing to sacrifice self, and to work diligently. "If you quit, it simply shows you did not want an education, you only thought you did,—you are not willing to pay the price."

NOSOPHOBIA, OR THE DREAD OF DISEASE.—There is one disease I would warn the young wife not to acquire. It is called nosophobia. It is without doubt the most serious sickness with which any member of the human family may be afflicted.

In another part of this book I have written the story of the aged philosopher, who, on being asked to name the worst troubles he had in life, answered, "I am quite sure my greatest worries, and my worst troubles were those that never happened." This reply is well worth thinking about; it contains matter for serious reflection, and what makes it so suggestive and valuable is that it can be proved true by the experience of our own lives.

Nosophobia means dread of disease. It may astonish many to know that such a condition is regarded as a disease, and that it has been given a name. Instead, however, of it being a rare disease, or an unusual condition, we find it is one of the commonest diseases, and one of the most easily acquired conditions. In fact, it is so easily acquired nowadays that we have to be constantly on guard against it. Though we may not be its victim, we have all felt its influence at some time, and even one experience of it is sufficient to satisfy the most exacting. It is an absolute medical fact, that the dread of disease will render one more profoundly miserable and unhappy, and will cause more mental and physical incompetents than will any severe, prolonged, actual sickness. People who are victims of nosophobia are probably the most miserable and wretched individuals on earth. This is essentially so because of the peculiar characteristics of the disease. It is an insinuating and insidious ailment and its progress is cumulative. When we begin to worry about our health the germ of nosophobia takes up its habitation in our midst and we never know another happy moment.

The dread of disease is probably more common now than it used to be, partly because people know more about it, and, therefore, have more material out of which to manufacture dreads, and partly because a large number of people have the leisure to worry about various symptoms and sensations that come to them, and the significance of which they exaggerate by dwelling on them until they become positive torments. It is particularly those who have not much to do, and, above all, those who have absolutely nothing to do who suffer most from the affection. Children never suffer from this malady because pains and aches have no significance to them. The probability of death through sickness never bothers them. Their minds are always occupied. They are always busy, they think only of life and of living. As we grow older, however, we become introspective and we permit conditions to favor the development of a wrong mental attitude. We accentuate the seriousness of each trifling pain and illness, and the specter of death looms up in the path of each ailment. Soon we spend needless time in worry and we imagine we are not as healthy as we ought to be and that we may probably die in the near future. This affects our temperament and our efficiency. Life is no longer tolerable or attractive, and we shortly are numbered with the failures and the incompetents.

One of the unfortunate consequences of nosophobia is that a victim of it not only renders her own life miserable, but she unfortunately affects the happiness of every member of the household. She is as a rule gloomy and morose, and this constant depressive environment is not conducive to the success of any effort toward creating moments of amusement and happiness. Her presence acts as a deterrent and repeated failures to overcome this domestic cloud finally result in a complete cessation of all effort. Things fall into a rut and each member of the family seek their various forms of diversion outside the home circle.

These individuals are sometimes spoken of as "trouble seekers." In a sense, the term is appropriate, because the troubles which wreck their peace of mind never occur. In the beginning there is usually some slight physical ailment. As a rule, it is some form of nervous indigestion. Under appropriate and adequate treatment such forms of indigestion are readily curable in ordinary individuals, but these patients are not ordinary individuals. They are perverse and opinionated. They have their own ideas. It is impossible to convince them that they are not as sick as they imagine. They think the physician fails to quite comprehend their cases,—that he does not recognize the serious side of the ailment, and so they are never wholly satisfied with medical assistance. The little incidental pains of the indigestion are indications of heart disease to such a patient and she acts in sympathy with this awful affliction; the real explanation being that the gas produced by the indigestion bothers the heart for the time being. She is very apt to diet as a consequence, one article after another being avoided until she is living on a starvation diet. She fails to appreciate the fact that she needs more nourishment, not less; that her stomach is in good condition, the fault being with her nerves. She finally becomes anemic and neurasthenic and a misanthrope.

The young wife can readily appreciate that, to expect domestic success and happiness under such circumstances, would be impossible. Yet there are young wives who develop this habit of accentuating their little pains and ailments inordinately, to their husbands, on every occasion. They adopt this dangerous means of exciting extra sympathy and caressing. Some do it in explanation of their failure to perform their household duties efficiently—a laziness plea pure and simple.

These inefficient and tricky little ladies find that it is easy to impose upon their unsuspecting husbands, so they proceed to work out the details to their own satisfaction. After spending the day sight-seeing or shopping or gossiping, and having neglected their work and feeling tired, they assume a becomingly abandoned position on the big, new, comfortable couch, practice a few heartbreaking sighs and experiment with the tear supply. These details are arranged and timed to be effective just as Jack opens the hall door with the latchkey. We can picture what follows without making any effort to dramatize the incident. But if the reader will try to create mental pictures of the frequently recurring home-comings under the same circumstances, she will develop interesting studies in domestic psychology as she watches the effect upon Jack when the truth begins to dawn upon him.

It needs no oracle to assure these women that they are traveling along a road that has only one ending. Love is as old as the hills, and the older it gets, like the wise old hills, a wiser old love it becomes. It exacts its price, and its price is an equal love. There never was a love born—except maternal love—that will sustain itself after the knowledge dawns upon it that it is being bartered away and imposed upon. The day of reckoning comes in time and the dream is over.

Do not forget that the first year of married life is the trial year—the real test of your soul-merit. During that first year you carve, as it were, on a monument, in a thousand different ways, the ineffaceable record of whether you deserve success and happiness in the struggle of life. In what should be the after-glow of love's young dream—the first precious weeks and months as a young wife—no element will be more subtly dangerous than the art of duplicity. Before a young wife determines to practice deception she should fully appreciate the inevitable consequences. If, under the mistaken idea that she can easily deceive her husband, because "he trusts me so," she believes she may continue to do so with impunity, she is the most elementary of all silly little fools. She has failed to observe that the great law of the universe acts in the interest of the rich and poor, the fool and the philosopher alike. She will become too clever and like all fools and criminals she will give herself away. She will wake up to find that she has been playing with the sacred things of earth—home and a husband's love; that, never again can she reestablish the affection and confidence which she has trampled upon and defiled; that the future is a mortgaged hope and she herself an unclean and unworthy thing.

Practicing the art of duplicity in simulating physical ailments will, if persisted in, establish nosophobia. The patient will come to believe that she is not exactly well. She will establish the habit of feeling sick. This will render her mind diseased and the diseased mind will in turn suggest new and additional aches and pains, and she will soon not know whether she is sick or well. The dread of disease will effect its retribution and soon she will be, in fact, an unhappy and an unsuccessful young wife.

Modern conditions unfortunately favor the easy development of nosophobia in young wives. Our larger knowledge of the symptoms of diseased conditions tends to render the analysis of localized pain more definitely and more suggestively. Certain pains, we are told by hearsay busybodies, mean certain serious conditions, and the category of these diseases extends from indigestion to consumption and to cancer. To the victim of nosophobia this suggestive knowledge is a constant terror and an ever present nightmare. To the normal healthy mind they mean nothing and suggest less.

The modern young housewife has a superabundance of spare time. The utilization of the young wife's spare time is of the most momentous importance as we have previously pointed out. It is the one commodity which will speak in the after years in words of solace and cheer or in regret and condemnation—according to how these precious moments are spent. If these moments are not spent in a way best fitted to wholly occupy the mind, the mental attitude—to which we previously referred, and which is conducive to the cultivation of nosophobia—will have been developed.

There are certain kindred conditions that may partly explain, to the ordinary healthy person, the real distress of mind into which these self-centered sufferers sink. The fear of a thunder storm, for example, creates profound dread and distress of mind in some people. The dread of dirt, of sharp instruments, of certain insects and animals, of darkness, of an ocean voyage, and of great heights, are common examples of this type of mind-distress of which the characteristic symptom is an inexplicable and uncontrollable dread. The same system of self-discipline and self-control is necessary to effect a cure of these various forms of mind-distress as is necessary in the successful treatment of dread of disease. To none of these other forms, however, is attached the same degree of seriousness by the laity as they attach unjustly to nosophobia. The conditions are all the same, but they reason that the dread of darkness or dirt or mice or height cannot possibly bring death or seriously affect the health or happiness, while sickness and the dread of it, means—so they imagine—pain and maybe death. Medically, nosophobia has no such significance. The condition exists only in the mind and the same effort at self-discipline will cure the dread of disease as well as the dread of any other possible condition. It is this element of mind, however, that lends itself to the cure of this condition by other means than legitimate medical advice and so we have had "healers" and "miracle workers" who have sprung up from time to time in the history of the world, who have cleverly taken advantage of this element in human nature, and reaped a rich reward.

"KEEP STILL AND BE WELL."—To instruct the young wife how she may guard against acquiring this habit, we would suggest that she "keep still and be well."

When the world appreciates better the psychology of thought, its tremendous significance will have a concrete meaning. We are too apt to regard the thought we give utterance to as a meaningless thing, so far as its influence is concerned. The woman who harps upon her ailments, who appears at the breakfast table with a depressed and melancholy visage, who regales us with an account of how poorly she slept, the nightmares she experienced, the pain she suffers, and who puts into her inflection the poison of self-pity is an emissary of Satan. I have seen a whole family's happiness for the day destroyed by the meaningless ranting of a hysterical woman. Life is hard enough for all, for each of us to at least wish each other well.

The individual who cultivates the habit of carrying sunshine and good cheer to the breakfast table belongs to the sort of folk who help and inspire the whole world to a greater achievement. If one is sent away each morning from home with a cheery word and a radiant good-by he is inspired with the virtue of success and his efficiency is ensured.

Cultivate the art of contentment and remember that relationship does not imply liberty; you have no right to send out into the world a member of your family depressed and miserable because of your irritability and evil habits.

"Keep still and be well." If you cannot say a good word about a fellow-being, say none at all. Don't become a scandal-monger. We can forgive those who talk evil about us—they talk to hear themselves talk. The gossip germ is born of ignorance and vacuity and breeds best in idle minds. No one is influenced by the vaporings of a gossip, her words die in empty air. She injures herself only. The loquacious pest who brings to us the tales which the scandal-monger manufactures is the one who robs us of our peace and is unforgivable. To dignify the malicious intentions and idle nothings of an evil mind by carrying them further is an expression of degeneracy that is urgently in need of active disinfection. To vilify another is foolish; to repeat it, is the function of a rogue. Your friends bring you the glad tidings of the good things that are said about you: your enemies are those who, in the holy name of friendship, bring to you the poison of evil gossip. "Keep still and be well."



THE HOME



CHAPTER XXVII

"If we are eager to do something to lighten the load of another, eager to sacrifice self; to cheer, and counsel, and inspire; to leave unsaid some unkind word, to forget our own troubles in the larger trouble of a friend, we are home-builders."

"A married woman can't decently spend her life in playing bridge, and in running ribbons through her underclothing She hasn't any right just to camp on her husband's trail.

"No woman on earth has a right to maintenance unless she gives value received."

DOMESTIC QUALITIES

A Good Housekeeper and Home-maker—What Constitutes a good Housekeeper—Preparation and Selection of Meals—Washing Dishes—Pots and Pans—Dusting and Cleaning—Work Cheerfully and Be Thorough—Don't Be a Dust Chaser—Don't Get the Anti-sunshine Habit—Air Your Rooms—The Ideal Home—The Medical Essentials of a Good Meal—What Makes the Home—Working for Something—The Average Housewife's Existence Is Slavery—What Shall We Work For—Making Ends Meet—Rest and Recreation—Try a Nap—Get Enough Sleep at Night—Go Out of Doors—Take a Vacation Now and Then—Life Insurance—Owning a Home—The Cheerful Wife and Mother—The Indifferent Wife and Mother—Husband and Wife.

A GOOD HOUSEKEEPER AND HOME-MAKER.—If the young wife carries out the suggestions made on the preceding pages and thereby contributes her part to establishing the material success of the co-partnership, will she profit in any other way?

She will have become a good housekeeper and home-maker.

Housekeeping is an acquired art, home-making is a moral quality, an instinct. Housekeeping conducted as an art is superfluous. Home-making is a triumph under any circumstances. There are many good housekeepers; there are few competent home-makers. Housekeeping may easily be overdone; home-making can never be overdone. A beautiful house is not necessarily a beautiful home. Housekeeping should be conducted with a view to home-making and never for any other reason. Sometimes we see housekeeping brought to its highest perfection by the same woman who never did understand the simplest rudiments of home-making. The woman who becomes the victim of the housekeeping mania never realizes it; it is an insidious art.

There can be no doubt that a well-kept house is a thing of beauty. So also is a marble statue, but it is cold and bloodless.

The young wife must strive to combine the two faculties. She should be an efficient housekeeper in a happy, comfortable home.

WHAT CONSTITUTES AN EFFICIENT HOUSEKEEPER?—An efficient housekeeper is one who has acquired the knowledge necessary to perform all the duties of housekeeping, and who executes these duties efficiently, with the least possible expenditure of time and labor.

It is an absolute fact that most young wives begin housekeeping with the crudest ideas as to what housekeeping means. It has been pointed out many times, that many mothers bring their daughters up without instructing them in the elementary principles of keeping house. It is nevertheless necessary to repeat this statement over and over again, and to point out the enormity of the injustice done. Even if a daughter is fortunate enough to marry a man who is capable of supplying all the help necessary, a wife should know enough to intelligently discern if the work is properly done. If she does not understand the rudiments of housekeeping, and has no help, her inefficiency may be directly responsible for breaking up the home.

PREPARATION AND SELECTION OF MEALS.—Thoroughness and simplicity are the two essentials to a satisfactory meal. If the articles are thoroughly cooked and the selection simple, there is no chance for trouble. A breakfast of fruit, a thoroughly cooked cereal with cream, a boiled egg and toasted bread and butter, is simple and is adequate. Freshly prepared hot biscuits sound good, but, unless you know your oven and have had a lot of experience, they are apt to result disastrously. Even if you are an expert, don't make them. They are very bad for digestion.

For dinner, lots of thoroughly cooked vegetables, a small piece of steak or two lamb chops, bread (at least one day old), and good butter, a baked apple, stewed prunes, or rice, boiled for three hours, is enough for any one. Have your meals on time. Be sure the table cloth and napkins are clean, and your dishes hot. Establish the habit of being cheerful at meals, of eating slowly, and of coming to the table with a clean, fresh dress.

WASHING DISHES.—While your husband is reading the evening paper, wash your dishes. Washing dishes is an art. Few young wives acquire it. The secret is, a big basin, lots of hot water, lots of soap, and a desire to wash them clean. If you wash them clean, don't smear them over by drying them with a greasy dishcloth. Wash your dishrag and drying towel every day, and hang them up to dry in the sun.

POTS AND PANS.—How they are neglected! If you have any pride as a housekeeper, be clean. Hot water, soap, a cleansing powder and a little effort, and your pots and pans will be a credit to you. Have a system. Take time. Keep your kitchen tidy. Don't let work accumulate from meal to meal or from day to day. It is astonishing how lazy and dirty some women are. We have seen young women on the street, dressed tidily and smartly, and we have gone into the homes of these women and have been disgusted and nauseated with their general appearance. There is absolutely no excuse for this, and a young wife who gets into the habit of being indifferent is a disgrace to her sex. She cannot hope for success or happiness.

DUSTING AND CLEANING.—Every home should be thoroughly cleaned once a week. A certain day should be selected for the purpose. A certain system should be followed. After it has been done a number of times, you will devise ways and means of doing it quicker, easier and better. New methods will suggest themselves from time to time, so, by planning and systematizing, you will get rid of the drudgery part, and there will be a constant incentive present to beat your past record. You must get rid of the feeling that it is uninteresting drudgery and slavery. A woman who looks upon her work in that light is not deserving of any better fate, and she will not get much further. If you are one of these perverse individuals who resent advice; if you object to being told the truth; if you do not want to profit by experience; if you are satisfied as you are, don't waste your precious time reading books. No author can tell you how to get something for nothing; no teacher can instruct others in anything. He can only awaken thought and arouse impulses. The law of life is harmony. An individual who wastes God's precious time in grumbling and fretting is the most pitiful object in the universe. Try to appreciate that you are part of the divine problem, regarding the conduct of which certain implacable laws have been formulated. To obey these laws means continued life, health, strength, power and success; to disobey them means weakness, sickness, incapacity, unhappiness, discontent and premature death.

Some people learn quickly how to conserve strength, how to systematize, how to be cheerful and hopeful and to radiate thankfulness. From a selfish standpoint this is the only method that pays. Some people will not see the point. They will put it aside by some such sophistry as: "Oh! it does not apply to me." It does, nevertheless, and probably at a later date, when the chance of achievement has withered, they will see the point through the mist of regret.

Work cheerfully, therefore, and be thorough. Don't overdo it. Fussiness is objectionable, useless and unhealthy, because it is a constant drain on nerve energy. Some women are dust-chasers. They are eternally poking into corners with a feather duster. They chase dust from one room to another and back again, and the sight of a few grains on the piano makes them sick. Dust with a moist cloth and when your dusting is over leave it and forget it. Don't buy a feather duster.

Don't get the anti-sunshine fad. Let the sun in. Don't pull your shades down to save the parlor carpet. Your husband would probably sooner buy another than pay for a funeral.

Air your rooms always, night as well as day. You cannot overdo it. Buy mosquito screens, keep the flies out, but let the air in.

THE IDEAL HOME.—It is difficult to describe an ideal home, but we know one the moment we are in it. Its atmosphere instinctively breathes the personality of the home-maker. Its individuality distinctly differentiates it from the ordinary impersonal home. Its housekeeping dress is inviting; its furnishings harmonious; and it exhales repose, and comfort, and peace. When we meet its mistress we are welcomed in a low, gentle, cordial tone of voice, and in a manner which radiates honesty and unaffected simplicity. We discover the source of the unusual atmosphere. It is herself, the wife, the mother, the home-maker. She is the mystery of the ideal home. Each day her divine art grows more perfect because her heart is consecrated to the work. She may not be surrounded with material splendor. The miracle is in the soul she possesses. Love is the magic wand she yields. She loves her home, her children, her husband. She is the queen mother in the paradise she creates.

We have seen that a good housekeeper may not be a home-maker. Every home-maker, on the other hand, is a good housekeeper. The ideal home could not exist unless presided over by a home-maker. A home-maker necessarily implies being a good mother; but a good housekeeper, who is not a good mother, will never be a home-maker.

A good housekeeper will keep house for the art's sake and will resent any domestic event which upsets her housekeeping sense of decorum, even though the event may have splendid home-making possibilities. The mother with the home-making instincts will invite, and aid, and will conceive events, which, though they upset her housekeeping routine, will contribute to the happiness and edification of the home circle. The housekeeper's sense of duty ends when a good dinner is served; the home-maker's real duty and incidentally her pleasure begins, when dinner is on the table.

THE MEDICAL ESSENTIALS OF A GOOD MEAL ARE: Pure food, judiciously selected for two reasons. First, that there may be an adequate daily variety—in order to stimulate the individual taste and appetite; second, that the food supplies may be adapted, in nourishing equivalents, to the work and age of the diner. The food must be thoroughly cooked, eaten slowly, and masticated with care and deliberation. Every meal should be served and eaten when cooked and ready. Food should never be allowed to stand when cooked to the proper degree. Overdone food is not desirable. The dishes should be heated to the proper degree; the table linen, napkins, etc., clean and fresh; and the family should all eat at the same time.

A meal should never be hurried. Interesting conversation is, therefore, a necessary and a commendable feature while dining. There is less desire or tendency to hasten through a meal when one is interested or is being entertained. The intervals between courses will be welcomed rather than resented under these circumstances, and the appetite will be keener and the enjoyment greater.

The wife and mother, who is the home-maker and consequently responsible for the esprit de corps of the family, will direct, suggest, and guide the conversation into profitable and interesting channels. By thus supplying the atmosphere necessary to the efficient eating of a meal, the digestion and the assimilation of the food will adequately take care of itself. Overeating is never a part of any meal and should be religiously avoided.

WHAT MAKES THE HOME.—We know it isn't the house we live in that makes the home. Many have lived in humble dwellings and have carried all through life the memory of home as a sacred legacy. Wealth does not make a home, nor culture, nor any of the intellectual attainments for which we may strive unceasingly. We may have all these and yet not know the joy of "home." "Home" conveys to every heart the same tender memories. To have known the blessings of a "home" is to be fortified for life's battles. No one can deny its importance in humanizing mankind. A boy who has never known what it was to have a home, whose substitute for the home associations was an "institutional mother," may have all the necessary potential qualities for success, but he will be forever deprived of the inspiration that memory of home kindles in every human soul.

The secret of the sources of home is its atmosphere. The atmosphere of home is the sum total of the kinship and sympathy radiated by its members. It is a tangible something which is capable of being felt, which is capable of inspiration and which is capable of being carried away into the years beyond, exerting a helpful influence over the milestones of worry, and trouble, and defeat; and it is always a fragrant, soothing, energizing influence. Every human heart needs the memory of a home and the presence of a friend at all times and in all places.

We must contribute our share to form the right kind of home-making "atmosphere." The two qualities which are essential to this task are sympathy and peace. Each contributor must be more than a negative unit in the home. It is not enough to simply desire peace—a deaf mute could fill that part. We must desire to please and we must be an active agency working for harmony and peace. If there is in our heart enough sincere affection for brother and sister, father and mother, the desire to please will be the bond of sympathy that will weather every temperamental storm. If we are eager to do something to lighten the load of another, eager to sacrifice self, to cheer and counsel and inspire, to leave unsaid some unkind word, to forget our own troubles in the larger trouble of a friend, we are home-builders. We must control our moods in the home, we must submerge the instinct of selfishness, of impatience, of pride, and of obstinacy. We must not be opinionated, we can many times conform to the opinion of others in trivial matters and preserve peace; we thereby minister to the happiness of others, because to give happiness is the surest way to be happy. Temper is the sting that poisons many homes. Its possessor is an impossible associate and will defeat the work of the angels in the effort to make homes.

WORKING FOR SOMETHING.—At various times we have emphasized the necessity of having definite plans, of "knowing exactly what you want," of "beginning wedded life with ideals"; in other words, we believe that to combine the maximum efficiency with the greatest degree of happiness it is necessary for all of us to "work for something."

It is not necessary to prove that the average human life is uninteresting; most of us know that. As a matter of fact the average existence is a monotonous, hopeless dreary stretch of time, dotted at more or less frequent intervals with physical pain and suffering, and with mental sorrow and anguish.

While this is undeniably a true epitome of the average life to-day, it is not to be accepted as the only possible average existence. Every agency that is working for the betterment of the conditions which surround life is helping to elevate the status of the average individual. As individuals, the question whether our life will conform to the average, or be individualized, rests with ourselves.

The ordinary average housewife's existence is slavery in its loneliest and most wretched form. Its utter hopelessness is its most depressing feature. If we could hope for some glint of sunshine, some day in the future when conditions would change, some circumstance which would give us the opportunity which we have never had, some test of our womanhood,—anything to relieve the crushing, hopeless inertia of the daily routine,—we imagine we could go on again, hoping that things would permanently change eventually. Don't "hope things will change." Change them! Don't get in a mental rut; don't be an "average" housewife. If you really can't do anything else, if things are so abjectly hopeless that there is no other way out, if your path is leading to nowhere, start a rebellion. When the smoke has cleared away you may see a new path to follow, and it may lead to somewhere. It is not necessary to do this often, because the fault is usually our own, and not that of environment or conditions, or our husbands. All we need to do is to think things over, and begin something, and all the other conditions will take care of themselves. The moment we step outside the humdrum path of existence, the moment we are curious enough to do this, there is hope for us. A little mental fresh air will dissipate a good many brain fogs. The instant we begin "working for something" definite, we cease to follow in the procession of the average helpless and hopeless citizen. So to the young housewife we would strongly suggest that she "think things over" and decide what she is going to work for.

Now, what will it be? Of course it will be different with each housewife. With many it will be "a home of our own." It may only be a piano for the children, or it may wisely be more insurance. Possibly you live in the country, and you long for the social and other advantages of the city. You may be a city wife and may long for a farm in the glorious country. It may be a trip to Europe; or a college education for the boy; or a musical career for the daughter. It does not matter what it is, the "it" is the thing itself, and, having found it, the world for you has changed. The lonesomeness, and the hopelessness, and the wretchedness of life have disappeared. There is always in the future the "it"; no matter how dark and gloomy the road may be, it is illuminated at the far end with the realized "it." It is the bearing of the burden of life that makes a wife, and when we have "something to work for" we begin to live. Love is the explanation. We don't want the home for ourselves. We want it for those we love, we want those we love in the atmosphere, which I, as mother, will make in "our home." It is the elemental mother that speaks,—the motherhood spirit that pours out eternally in self-sacrifice and keeps no debit account. It is the cry of the primal mother that echoes through all the ages and which has kept the race sane and safe and hopeful. Having something to work for supplies the element necessary to cheerfulness. In the darkest moments, when everything seems to go wrong, the thought that we can look forward to a time when a great change is coming, when we will move to the new home, when we go to the farm or the city as the case may be, or when John will finish his college course and start out as a lawyer,—when the strain of skimping and making ends meet is over we feel that the struggle will let up and we can rest in peace for a little while. It is sharing these burdens that counts, and brings out the best elements of human nature. The struggle of making ends meet draws the young couple closer together, and adds that touch of divinity that is essential to confidence and love. It strengthens character, curbs the tendency to unnecessary expenditure of money and time, and teaches frugality and patience. The incentive to win out is ever present, and it is the anchor that means final satisfaction and success.

Try to see the point. Work for something,—something worth while, and when you have once begun never turn back. "Nothing-succeeds like success."

REST AND RECREATION—A young couple should find time for rest and recreation as well as for work. This part of the domestic problem should be carefully and systematically utilized, and just as faithfully carried out as any other part. Both husband and wife should participate in these hours of enjoyment, and the husband should assiduously try to make of these respites periods of real mutual benefit. No matter in what station of life one may be, it is always possible to find congenial means of passing many happy and profitable hours together, if the spirit of companionship and mutual interest is kept alive. It is the incessant strain upon the nervous system that constitutes the real danger of home life. The struggle to make ends meet; to keep the children neat and well fed; to look respectable; to provide clothing and education; to nurse the sick; to tolerate gossipy neighbors; to put up with ugly tempers; to meet the constant drain of society, business, politics and religion,—the wonder is that so few remain outside the lunatic asylums.

There are certain inevitable daily happenings in the life of every housewife that must be tolerated though they are not pleasant. A certain number of interruptions will come at the most inopportune moments. The children will come in with muddy feet and walk over the clean floor; some days the stove works splendidly, other days it acts as if it was crazy; the milkman is late to-day and too early to-morrow; some days the iceman comes, some days he stays away, and these are the days we want him most; the upstairs work is not quite done when cooking must be begun; the grocer forgot to send the butter; a dish or two will crack or break every day; doors will slam; the rain begins to fall just when the clothes are all hung out; baby needs nursing just when the pie must be turned; a visitor calls before the dishes are washed. These are inevitable. The cure does not lie in some impossible revolution. We must rest the nerves and take the strain off.

Try a nap in the middle of the day. Lie down and relax even if you do not sleep. In some countries this is a national custom. It should be a law in America. One cannot appreciate the amount of good that can be gained from one-half hour's sleep. Medically it is a wonderful rejuvenator.

Get enough sleep at night. Late hours in the home is a bad habit and a poor investment. It affects the health and the efficiency. One extra hour means all the difference between frayed-out nerves, exasperated dispositions and home peace and contentment. There is a certain fixed ratio between sleep and good nature that has been formulated into a law by psychology. Keep early hours and the whole complexion of life will improve.

When indoor work becomes irksome go out of doors, try a walk. Nothing will dissipate tired-out nerves quicker than a brisk walk. Every housewife should walk in the open air every day of her life. It is an absolute necessity if she hopes to retain her health and spirits. She will be in better shape and in a better mood to carry out her part of the daily programme.

Take a vacation now and then. Go to the seashore or into the mountains. When a housewife is run down and irritable; when the disposition comes to indulge in a lonely cry; when she wishes she had never been born; when the cook stove and the children are hysterical irritants; it is time for a day off. The husband should find time to take his wife into the country for a week end, even a day at the seashore will work like magic.

Resting and recreation are necessary. If we do not recognize this fact, and adopt the habit as a preventative, we will be compelled to take it in an effort to cure a malady that has established itself as a consequence of the neglect. It, therefore, is a time and money saver, and it saves friction, and home, and maybe life.

LIFE INSURANCE.—Every young wife should insist upon her husband carrying life insurance upon his own life. She should make this a part of the prenuptial agreement. We would go further and state that a man who will not willingly agree to this is not a safe man to marry. The kind of insurance is immaterial, so long as it guarantees to the wife an adequate sum of money in the event of his premature death. The wife should regard the payment of the premiums as one of the necessities, and should personally know that they are promptly paid.

OWNING A HOME.—It should be the hope of every married couple to own their own home. It has been the regret of many, when in later years they have figured up the money which they have spent in rent, that they did not think of this plan earlier. Nowadays, it is possible to pay a very small sum down, and certain monthly payments, which apply on the purchase of a house. By beginning this way, when the family expenses are small, it is comparatively easy, and without any deprivations, to own the home outright in a few years. Many couples foolishly buy gaudy and unnecessary furniture, and live in more expensive homes than their means justify, in order to create an impression, when first married, which they later regret. If part of the money, which the young husband has undoubtedly saved,—or he should not marry,—was paid down on the purchase of a house it would be paid for before the extra expense which necessarily comes with children had to be met. The plan works to the advantage of the couple both ways, because, if no rent has to be paid out after a few years, the extra expense of children would not then be a hardship.

THE CHEERFUL WIFE AND MOTHER.—How many happy memory pictures we see by simply reading the name,—the cheerful wife and mother,—we might call her the optimistic mother. No matter what we did as children, we were never afraid of her. She always saw the bright side, and if we did something wrong she never scolded angrily; she talked to us convincingly and made us slightly ashamed of ourselves. If we had any plan or project we took it to her, she listened, and she suggested, and before we knew it she had solved our problem and the plan was possible,—away we would go, enthusiastic and happy, to work out the details as she suggested, and shortly our "party was on its way." If any of us had an accident,—we didn't go home, we were afraid of a scolding,—the victim was rushed to her, she would wash the blood and tears away, bathe the wounded part, put on a bandage and then take the little patient up to her room. A cake and a story would soon have us feeling good and help us forget our pain. Oh! she was an angel to us. On rainy days she found a way to amuse us, our dirty feet didn't count, the floor was to be washed up anyhow. To keep in her good graces, however, we had to be reasonably good. She told us stories, and we soon found out that she didn't like a mean or stingy boy, and a boy or girl who would tell a lie she would not talk to for a week. Her stories always proved that the mean boy, or the bad little girl, or anyone who told lies, never had a good time, that no one liked them, and most everybody kept away from them, if they didn't stop being bad. She was a wonderful mother, and every boy and girl for miles around knew her and loved her.

And so it is that children soon learn who their real friends are. A home is what the mother makes it. Cheerfulness does not cost anything, and how much better it is if happiness abounds. You can get infinitely more of the confidence of a child by being gentle, and by showing that you have his or her real interest at heart. They will trust you more and rely upon your forbearance in the event of anything going wrong. As we boys and girls grew up the interest of the angel mother didn't cease; we met her often, and she would ask "how things were going." She knew exactly what each of the boys and girls was doing, and we always told her the truth, and all the truth. If anything did go wrong, she would know of it from one of the others, and she would "look up" the unfortunate one. Many times to my knowledge she has helped another mother over a crisis; when a boy was about to go wrong or showed a tendency to do some foolish thing. She did so because she "had a way" of getting round the boy, that even his own mother did not possess, and he would listen. A mother who can preserve her own cheerfulness under all circumstances is a jewel. The influence she wields is beyond estimation. A radiant cheerfulness is something akin to Christlikeness, it is an inspiration. People who live together frequently feel out of sorts in the presence of each other without a feeling of compunction, without realizing that they are guilty of a social discourtesy. If there is in that home an optimistic, cheerful mother, how different the atmosphere is! The cross look, or the touchy word, is quickly observed and all the power of her infectious cheerfulness is brought into battle array and the discontent is chased away, the vitriolic spirit of quarrel, slumbering so near the surface, is made to feel ashamed of itself. It shrinks into the darkness, and we begin the day all over again, thankful that mother is so good, so considerate and patient.

It isn't exactly by the children that such a mother is best appreciated. Father knows the real value of her cheerfulness. He knows just what it has meant in the past, and he knows what it means now. He can look back and he can recall many instances in which the optimism of his wife was the agency which turned the tide. He knows of many business deals wherein the cheerful advice of his wife changed his viewpoint and so changed failure into success. He can recall many instances during the early days of his business career when the outlook was gloomy and doubtful, when its success depended upon so small a matter as temperament and disposition, when the cheerfulness, the love and tact of his wife dispelled the gathering clouds, strengthened the wavering spirit and instilled new fight, new purpose, new hope, into the situation. Oh, yes, he knows that cheerfulness, and optimism, and tact, and love, have a definite economic value, but it cannot be estimated in dollars and cents. He knows they are an asset in the domestic problem, but they are sacred, holy, consecrated.

Cheerfulness is such a potent reality that it has a definite, concrete value. Life is a product of environment to a very considerable extent. Our surroundings very often dictate our attitude, and temperamentally at least we radiate whatever spirit our environment generates.

HEREDITARY FEEBLE-MINDEDNESS[B]



Here is the law. The blood of the father was tainted. For several generations it lay dormant, and then smote this little child, Bertha. It is the terrible, the inevitable law of heredity.



Not so much now, as years ago, is there intermarriage. It is fortunate, for the results of in-breeding are far worse in human beings than in animals; chiefly because of man's more highly developed nervous system. New, pure blood above all things else is a re-energizing force which may go far toward eventually eliminating any trace of taint.

[Footnote B: "Feeble-mindedness; Its Causes and Consequences," Goddard, The Macmillan Company.]

One cheerful home will radiate, will send out into the world, certain definite, concrete influences which will encourage and stimulate, and strengthen and give new hope to every living thing it reaches. The atmosphere of cheerfulness will exert a specific influence upon every disposition within its zone. The children of a cheerful mother and home will radiate happiness, contentment and love. The husband of a cheerful wife will carry into life's struggle a more just, a more equitable, a more humanizing influence as a direct, concrete result of that cheerfulness, and who can tell into how many other homes the spirit of cheerfulness will be carried as a consequence of the justice, and equity, and charity of that husband and father? To return after a day's work and worry to a fireside, to a home, in which cheerfulness is the radiating element is to inspire contentment and peace and thankfulness. Out of the joy of thankfulness, out of the satisfaction of peace, and the fulness of contentment, the kingdom of Heaven is born, and when human hearts feel like this they are living near the borderland of great possibilities. The cheerful wife and mother needs little advice. She does, however, need our love and the knowledge that we are true to ourselves and that we are fighting an honest fight. She will be happy in that knowledge.

THE INDIFFERENT WIFE AND MOTHER.—The home over which an indifferent wife and mother presides is a "happy-go-lucky" home. There is something radically wrong in the make-up of a woman who is wife and mother and who is indifferent. It is not a natural condition, and it is frequently a product of simple ignorance. Such a woman may be exceedingly amiable and charitable; she may take an active interest in church and social affairs, and may be regarded as a kind and model housewife. Her interests are outside the home, however, and since the home is a place of apathy and indifference she feels she must "keep busy" elsewhere. She is out of touch with her husband and his affairs, and the children "get along somehow." If they come in for meals and report for bed that is all "any one can expect." There is seldom any acute friction, because every one is indifferent and selfishly attends to his own affairs.

Such a home is devoid of the domestic atmosphere. The mother touch is lacking: sentiment and love have long ago taken wings: the temperature of the place is cold and forbidding. The children "exist" and may be healthy animals, but their souls are empty and there is no comradeship or affection in their make-up. They do not know what human sympathy means, and they either grow into successful machines, or indifferent citizens. As human beings they are failures. It would be astonishing to know how many of this type of mother and wife the present strenuous age is producing. They are certainly on the increase, and the unrest, which is a growing characteristic of the sex, is tending to still further increase this type of womanhood. The mother element is being subverted and in its place we find "Justice" with her scales, but with a marble heart.

These women do not realize that the citadel of motherhood is a sacred, holy citadel, and that its responsibilities cannot be met by a negative allegiance. A child's character, its training, its physical equipment, its mental development, its body and soul, its heredity and acquired instincts, its virtues and its vices, its environment, are all mothers' cares, mothers' duties, mothers' responsibilities, and if they are neglected part of the eternal scheme is frustrated and recompense will be exacted. When a woman marries she assumes responsibilities which she cannot and dare not neglect. If she does, she will have to give an accounting of her stewardship.

The indifferent mother and wife does not fit. She is incompetent, she is one of nature's sarcasms. She is a mistake as a wife, as a mother, and as a member of society. She is not sincere or she would not be guilty of such fundamental injustice. As a human being she is a parasite, and in the Master's vineyard she is a weed.

HUSBAND AND HOME.—As sponsor for the welfare and efficiency of the family and the home, the wife and mother should occasionally give some thought to the husband and father.

William Muldoon, one of the greatest physical efficiency experts in this or any other country, who has intimately known hundreds of our great men in every walk of life, recently stated that American men to-day do not appear to have the same amount of physical endurance and nervous energy that men of forty years ago possessed. In other words, as a race we are degenerating. In his opinion the condition is due to the fact that commercialism has taken such a firm hold upon the American people that everything else is cast aside to make a success in business or profession.

This is a serious indictment coming from such a source and should be of intense interest to the wife and mother of to-day.

The over-worked business man, when he gets into the hands of the physician, is a neurasthenic. He has gone just as far as his vitality will take him. His mind is fagged and worn out and will not concentrate. He is nervous, irritable, and wretched. His appetite is capricious, and he sleeps fitfully. For a few days he pulls himself together and plunges into work, but the effort exhausts him and he falls back further than before. He is unhappy and despondent, his viewpoint changes and the future looks uninviting and he loses his courage and his faith in himself. He hides all this from his family, he does not want wife and children to know that he is losing his hold. He even makes desperate efforts to keep fit while at home, and for a time he succeeds.

All this has been brought about by tremendous concentration of effort to do ten times as much work as he should do, and it has all been done in order to acquire riches and independence, not so much for his own sake as for his family's sake.

Now, a wife who fails to see the handwriting on the wall is no wife at all. Any wife who cannot tell, by a single look, exactly how her husband feels is not quite what she should be. Some women may question this declaration. They may regard it as a far-fetched indictment. The truth nevertheless is,—and all good citizens are thankful that it is so,—that if a man and woman live together for years, and during that time work together in sympathy and love, and share the burdens of life together, they grow toward each other; there is a psychic force that binds them so that when the clouds begin to settle over one the other promptly sees the mist and brings all her subtle skill and solicitude to guard and fight in the other's interest. The "two hearts that beat as one" are old hearts, hearts chastened by experience and mellowed by the sorrows and joys of life, hearts that have gone through the dark spots and the deep spots of affliction, and have loved and helped each other all through the long journey to sunset's old age. God never inspired a holier picture than the wrinkled face of a good old mother. The old eyes, with the peering promise of a near peace in them; the toothless mouth, whose words of cheer are records of the past; the wrinkled face, the sad token of human frailty; the gentle word of welcome which age trustingly bestows, all speak to younger hearts with hungry words, and we hope that their lot is one of peace and contentment and happiness.

A wife, therefore, who has shared the burdens of life honestly and willingly with her husband will promptly note when life's struggle is becoming dangerous to her helpmate.

The true wife will insist on rest, and quiet, and recuperation. No man has the right to sacrifice himself for his family and no family should dare to expect it. A wife should frequently inquire and find out what their success is costing her husband, find out the price he is paying. No success is worth while if a man is undermining his health and strength to attain it. Men do it, however. American business men do it all the time.

Maternal sacrifice is admittedly the supreme or Christ-like instinct of the human race, and it has been accorded the glory which is its due, but the unsung song of father love is a more pathetic incident of this strenuous age than we are apt to believe. America is building a breed of men with a dual passion, the passion for riches, and the passion to protect. The one is a wrong ideal, the other is a wrong principle. Ask any of the worn-out men who are inmates for the time being of the splendid institutions in the country devoted to the recuperation of health: ask the medical superintendents of the large sanitariums; ask Muldoon; ask the busy men of big business why they keep in the harness after they have made enough to retire upon; why they strive and fight and sacrifice themselves, and you will be told that the force which impels them is the desire to protect, with ample fortune, wife and children, and those dependent upon them. The average well-balanced man of America is never happier than when he can give to his loved ones every comfort and luxury possible. He is willing to work and so sacrifice self to the utmost to consummate his ambition. The right kind of a wife will see that her husband is getting a square deal.

The right kind of solicitude and the right kind of argument will tend to divert her husband's attention away from business, to the advantage of all concerned. The children of America need closer fellowship with the fathers. We should read fewer tales of the profligacy of rich men's sons and less lurid accounts of the doings of the daughters of society. The sons of poor men would profit by a freer companionship with the more experienced father, and the daughters would be less apt to wander away from the fireside of a home that was knit together by the broader sympathy of father love.

The training and education of our children is far more important than storing up money for them to spend recklessly. We all need help and cheering words and encouragement to do justice to ourselves and others. Nothing will inspire and stimulate youth more to achieve, to be clean in mind and body, and to succeed, than the knowledge that he is loved, and trusted, and has the implicit confidence of parents and of brothers and sisters. His pride is awakened, he would hate to fail, or to disappoint them, so he makes a conscientious effort to be worthy and to succeed.

The mothers are at the helm. They must be the harmonizing factor in the home, and they must bring their human ships into safe harbors. The storms and the battles of life will only unite the crew together if the "captain" is the right "man" in the right place.



CHAPTER XXVIII

"All that I know, I owe to my mother."

Abraham Lincoln.

HOW WE CATCH DISEASE

We Catch Disease—How Germs Enter the Lungs—How Germs Work in the Body—The Function of the White Blood Cell—How an Abscess Is Formed—The Evil Habit of Spitting in Public Places—Sunlight and Germs—Why It Is Necessary to Open Windows—Facts About Tuberculosis—The Tendency to Disease—The Best Treatment for Tuberculosis—Consumption Is a Preventable and a Curable Disease—When Delay Is Dangerous—What to Eat and Wear in Hot Weather—Scientific Dressing—Drink Plenty of Water—What to Drink When Traveling.

A simple explanation of how we "catch" disease may be interesting and profitable. Let us take, for example, a case of consumption. In order to "catch" consumption it is necessary to breathe into our lungs the germ of consumption.

How do we "catch" these germs?

If a consumptive patient spits or expectorates on the street, or on the floor of a railroad car, or in a room, or store, or theater, after a time the spittle becomes dry, and because of the wind or a breeze which may be caused by opening or shutting a door, or it may be the skirts of women walking about, the dried sputum in which the germs are becomes mixed with the dust of the air. If we happen to be around, just at the particular time when the germs are blown into the air, we may breathe into our lungs enough of them to produce consumption. If we are in good health, and if we do not happen to get too large a dose of the bacteria at one time (and that is only a matter of luck), we can overcome them, as will be shown shortly. If, however, we are not in good health, if we are just recovering from some serious or depressing disease, such as Grippe, the bacteria will overcome our reserve vitality, and consumption will graft itself on our weakened system.

How do these germs work?

They lodge on some part of the lung tissue and burrow into it. They make a nest for themselves and begin work immediately. They live on the lung tissue, they multiply rapidly, they produce—as a result of their activity—a poisonous substance. Because of their eating up, as it were, the lung tissue we often find holes (cavities) in the lungs of consumptives. By breeding rapidly they require more and more room, so they invade more and more of the lung tissue and destroy it. The poisonous substance which they produce is absorbed by the blood. Its effect on the blood is to weaken it, and when the blood becomes weak the vitality declines, so that the patient loses weight, appetite, and strength. The poison also produces fever, and so the long, weary fight goes on till death claims the patient.

WHAT HAPPENS IF WE INHALE THESE BACTERIA, AND CONSUMPTION DOES NOT DEVELOP.—In order to understand the answer to this question it is necessary to explain certain facts concerning the white blood cells. The white blood cells can pass through a blood vessel and back into it again without leaving any hole in the wall of the blood vessel.

The function of the white blood cells is to wander around and if they discover any stray bacteria, whose presence is undesirable, it is their duty to get rid of it as quickly as possible. The white blood cell may therefore be likened to a detective whose duty it is to arrest any suspicious character who comes into the city. When a white blood cell discovers a strange microbe it immediately surrounds and encloses it within itself, just as your hand can enclose any small object, such as a cent or a dime. It then promptly goes to the nearest blood vessel, enters it, and is carried away in the blood stream. If we are in good health our blood cells are alert, active, and capable of defending us against any invading foe in the form of a microbe or bacteria. If we are not in good health the bacteria may overcome the white blood cells. If we inhale a large number of the consumptive bacteria at one time, and they succeed in getting into the lung substance, they are immediately met by an army of blood cells, all bent on capturing them. An actual battle is fought and the deciding factor of the battle will be the condition of the patient. If there is plenty of strength and reserve force, if the patient is in good health, the blood cells will win the battle; if the condition of the patient is poor, the blood cells will lose the battle and tuberculosis, or consumption, has its beginning in that patient from the time the blood cells lose their fight. We know the battle has been lost because the well-known symptoms of the disease soon appear. The blood cells do not retreat when defeated; they go on fighting to the best of their ability. Whether they ever succeed in overcoming the bacteria, depends upon the treatment the patient gets, and his personal conduct. We give him a maximum of fresh air and sunlight because these are the great enemies of all kinds of bacteria. We force his feeding and try to stimulate his appetite, hoping thereby to give him strength so that his blood cells will fight actively in his interest. We take steps to reduce his fever so that his strength may not be wasted and burned up. If we succeed, with the necessary active cooeperation of the patient, the blood cells finally overcome the bacteria and the patient recovers from the disease.

This is the story of the invasion of almost every disease. It is the story of the white blood cell.

The white blood cell is active in another way and it is a very interesting way. When you cut yourself the blood cells immediately surround the entire cut. They line up like an army defending a city. They form a perfect wall, millions of them, ready to pounce upon all enemies in the form of bacteria or microbes, that have the temerity to try to creep into the wound unseen.

This is the reason that so very few of the hundreds of little surface wounds and scratches which every one gets, ever become infected or go wrong in any way.

When a microbe does get inside, under the skin, and becomes active, as they sometimes will, the white blood cell, appreciating that it cannot defeat the enemy, begins to build a wall around him and locks him in. This compels the enemy to limit his activity within the wall, which he does, and so an abscess is formed, which bursts when the bacteria fill it so full that the wall gives way and empties the poison out on the surface of the skin, thus saving the body from the poison of the microbe which would spread all through the body, were it not for the wall formed by the active, busy little white blood cell.

The foregoing simple explanation of "how we catch disease" will no doubt be suggestive to the interested and careful reader. The first and most obvious question that suggests itself is: If we "catch" tuberculosis by inhaling germs from some other person's dried spittle, why are consumptives allowed to spit where it will do harm? Consumptives are not allowed to spit where it will do harm, but they do and they always will.

Every department of health in every civilized corner of the globe has secured the enactment of laws making spitting unlawful in any public place. Every sanitary society, every agency whose aim is to work in the interest of public health, has actively aided, and is aiding, in the propaganda for a better universal understanding of the principles of sanitation and hygiene. The individual must be educated to understand the tragic need of such a law. You cannot legislate virtue into the public conscience. It is a profound reflection upon human intelligence to appreciate that the great white plague, for the stamping out of which so many thousands of lives are annually sacrificed, and so much money is spent, could be forever stamped out, if the human race would agree absolutely to stop spitting.

It is the duty of every person to take an active personal interest in this crusade of education and emancipation. We appreciate and concede that a large number of those afflicted with consumption do not willfully spit, knowing that others may be affected as a consequence. They do it in ignorance. Our aim is to educate the victim to an understanding of the true condition. The knowledge must be carried into every home, and the story must be told in a simple, convincing way, to attain results. The mothers of the country can aid to a very considerable degree, in this commendable work. Every mother can tell her children the story of how disease is caught. She can tell them that the danger spots of infection are where people congregate together, in church, school, theater, street-cars, and railroad trains. She can teach them to breathe through their nostrils, especially when in these public places, because the nostrils are so constructed that they act as a sieve or strainer, they clean the air we breathe, and when we blow the nose after being in one of these places we blow out thousands of germs and other impurities which would have gone straight into the lungs if we had breathed through the mouth. She can teach them the value of deep breathing when in the open air, and of standing and walking erect so as to get all the lung space possible. By constantly reminding children of these little points you will be amazed at the progressive improvement which goes on both in their bodies and in their minds. They will become little missionaries, they will tell the story to others, and a real good can be accomplished in this simple way, that will grow in strength and vigor as the years roll round.

The next suggestive feature in the reading of "How we catch disease," is the significant emphasis which is put upon sunlight and fresh air in the treatment of consumption. Sunlight, as already stated, is the great enemy of microbes and germs of all kinds. Where sunlight is, germs do not want to be. How wrong, therefore, is the habit of lowering the shades, when the sun shines into your home, because it "spoils the carpet." Let it spoil the carpet; it is much cheaper to buy a new carpet than to pay for a funeral. Let the sunlight stream into your rooms for the few hours it can every day. Germs love the dark, sunless corners where the dust is. Housewives should, therefore, go into the dark corners with a moist duster, and wipe them clean, then boil the duster and hang it in the sunlight to dry until needed again. If you choose to use a feather duster instead, as the lazy woman does, you only chase the dust and the germs from one corner to another, and in doing so you afford yourself the opportunity of swallowing a few germs in the passing. One may, therefore, be punished in an unexpected way for being lazy.