Started In With "Enthusiasm"

1900

In an interview, Booker T. Washington tells the story of some of his early experiences at Tuskegee.

"After teaching in the ordinary way awhile, the impression began to grow upon me that I was largely throwing away my time, trying to give these students a book education without getting hold of them in their home life, and without teaching them how to care for their bodies, and inculcating in them habits of neatness, order and industry. Here it was that I conceived the idea of such a work as has followed."

"Had you any capital to start such a school with?"

"I had unbounded enthusiasm. I began looking around to see if I could get hold of some land. I found a farm near Tuskegee, that I thought would answer the purpose, but I couldn't buy real estate with enthusiasm, and I hadn't a cent of money. But my boldness led me to write to Gen. Marshall, the treasurer of Hampton, and ask him to loan me $500 to make a payment on that farm; and to my unbounded surprise he sent me a cheek for what I asked, and I wasn't long in getting the school moved."

"How have you since managed to get all your buildings and the other thousands of acres of land?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you how we got our first building, though. We pitched in and built it ourselves — yes, sir; people scoffed, but we even made our own bricks. The point at which we stuck was the burning of the bricks — none of us knew how to fire a kiln. We had no money to hire labor, but we had to have those bricks, and I owned a gold watch which I took to the pawnshop and got enough money to employ an experienced brick maker to burn the bricks."

"That was a heroic measure, sure. No doubt you cherished that watch as — "

"I have never got that watch out of pawn yet, but we are now manufacturing a million bricks a year. That was a pretty poor sort of building, but we builded self-respect and manhood into it, and when white people saw what we could do, we won their respect. Now we can put up a building that no one need be ashamed of. In our last building the steam heating apparatus and the electric light fixtures were put in by our own steamfitters and electricians. The plans were by an architect from our own school."

—The Ram's Horn, March 17, 1900, p. 14.

Perfect Day (poetry)

1899

By Ninette M. Lowater

Fair was the blue sky overhead,
Fair was the earth below;
Soft as an infant's breath, the wind
Went wandering to and fro.

The creeping grasses clad the earth
In garniture of green;
A summer day more fair, more sweet,
The earth has never seen.

Yet something still it seemed to lack
To satisfy my heart;
Lovely, but lifeless as a thing
Created by some art.

But lo — I heard a gush of song,
The whirring of a wing,
And into happy, joyous life
The whole world seemed to spring.

— Youth's Companion.

Narrow and Heartless

1899

There are two sisters whom everybody who will read their story here has met, in cities or farmhouses, at home or abroad. They have eyes and ears, the full complement of all the senses belonging to ordinary human beings, but they go through life blind and deaf.

Every morning, when they rise, God opens the world before them like a full book to tell of His power and love. The sunshine, the wind, every flower in the field, every insect in the grass, all the countless living things about them, have some word to speak of Him. They see and hear nothing of it all.

Around them, all through the days, press multitudes of men and women, each working out a little tragedy or comedy of life, each differing from the others, mean or noble, pure or vile, but all alike struggling along a path where help may be needed and life's burdens made less hard to bear.

These women have brains and hearts, but they never use them for the benefit of a single soul. They hold out no helping hand, they give no friendly thought to any fellow-traveller.

Why?

One of them is made blind by her sense of her own importance. The petty cause of her importance is known only to herself. There was a man of title among her forefathers; or she has a larger sum in the bank than her neighbors; or she numbers some fashionable woman among her acquaintances; or she has costly gowns. But she wraps herself in this remembrance as in a robe of state, and so struts proudly through life.

Her sister has a grievance; usually a different one each day; an aching limb; a small income; an idle servant. These cover her as his cloak covers the monk. She thinks, dreams, talks under their pressure. These women thus shut themselves in and are kept apart through life from the influence and help of nature, of their fellow-men, and of God.

It would be wise to ask ourselves, now and then, if we are in their case. Do we give out healthy, happy influences to people about us as we go through the world? If not, what cloak do we wear that shuts us in to our own littleness? — Youth's Companion.

Lessons of Winter

1874

There is no season of the year so well calculated to bind us together in the ties of a common brotherhood as is winter. Nature claims and receives our sympathy in all her varied aspects.

In the spring we rejoice in her renewed activity, and greet with delight her balmy air and budding beauty. As the summer approaches, we disperse to behold her in new phases and to enjoy her cool breezes from mountain and sea. In the fall we witness with tender sadness the departure of the gorgeous foliage and rich bloom, and still linger lovingly among her shadows. But when nature puts on her winter's dress, she bears a different message to us all.

With the bleak wind and stinging frost she sends us from her presence for a time, and bids us draw closer to one another for warmth and comfort. She brings more forcibly to the mind the delights of home and friends, and at the same time speaks impressively of the pain and sorrow, poverty and woe that call for sympathy and help.

Each season has its appropriate lesson, and that of winter is surely intended to strengthen within us the spirit of humanity that shall blossom into brotherly love and kindness. As the dusk of twilight calls the children away from outdoor play to assemble in the home, and brighten the family with their cheerful presence, so winter calls the human family from their summer rambles into a more intimate communion and sympathy with each other.

It is a pleasant task to learn one part of winter's teachings, that which relates to social and domestic union. The festivities of Thanksgiving and Christmas, the long winter evenings, the cheerful fireside, the lectures, concerts and social gatherings, the hilarity of the young, and the cheerful sympathy of the old all draw families and friends together in closer bonds.

All honor to the merry pastimes, the genial society, the friendly harmony which winter inaugurates. Let parents and children devote themselves more assiduously to each other, let brothers and sisters strengthen fraternal love by kindly offices and close companionship, let acquaintances blossom into friends, and friendly intercourse ripen affection, and, above all, let the sympathy thus developed serve to inspire each with higher purposes and nobler aims, and one part of winter's mission, will have been accomplished.

Great Influence of Beauty

1914

Though Too Often Ignored, It Is as Deep and Useful a Part of Life as Utility

Beauty is as deep and as useful a part of our general life as is what we term utility. It has just such a reason for being; it has a similar force; it has a set place in the scheme of the world. Eyes not fully opened to the beautiful are not wholly alive to the influence of beauty upon our lives and our actions. Alas! sometimes we scoff at the highest expressions of beauty. That is to say, the highest human expression.

Those even greater beauties, which are divine expressions, we ignore.

Just think for a moment. Take yourself away from yourself and contemplate yourself and your living, set against the background of the universal scheme of things. Think of the myriads of infinitely petty, wasteful and useless thoughts and actions, desires and dislikes which occupy your day. At the moment you read this, take yourself back two years ago. Of course, you have not the slightest conception of what happened. But let me tell you that on that day, two years ago, were happening too, a dozen or a hundred things which seemed to you to be supreme importance. Do you understand how we fill our lives to the brim with millions of such trifling inconsequences? — Kansas City Star.

The Cheerful Man

1906

By O.S. Marden

The cheerful man is pre-eminently a useful man.

The cheerful man sees that everywhere the good outbalances the bad, and that every evil has its compensating balm.

A habit of cheerfulness enables one to transmute apparent misfortunes into real blessings.

He who has formed a habit of looking at the bright side of things, has a great advantage over the chronic dyspeptic who sees no good in anything.

The cheerful man's thought sculptures his face into beauty and touches his manner with grace.

It was Lincoln's cheerfulness and sense of humor that enabled him to stand under the terrible load of the civil war.

If we are cheerful and contented all nature smiles with us; the air is balmier, the sky clearer, the earth has a brighter green, the trees have a richer foliage, the flowers are more fragrant, the birds sing more sweetly and the sun, moon and the stars are more beautiful. All good thought and good action claim a natural alliance with good cheer. High-minded cheerfulness is found in great souls, self-poised and confident in their own heaven-aided powers.

Serene cheerfulness is the great preventive of humanity's ills.

Grief, anxiety and fear are the great enemies of human life and should be resisted as we resist the plague. Cheerfulness is their antidote.

Without cheerfulness there can be no healthy action, physical, mental or moral, for it is the normal atmosphere of our being. — Success.

Flowers in the Home

1883

Flowers! How our thoughts brighten at that word! They fly back over, ten, twenty, thirty, aye, forty years, to the times when we wove garlands from the wild sweet blossoms. What dainty, golden necklet we have since worn has given us the pleasure we felt when we decked ourselves in a simple daisy chain?

But I did not take up my pen to write of our sweet childhood; I wish to speak to my sisters of the home; I wish to remind them that nothing will make a home truly refined but flowers. Ah, they are infinitely more than rich furniture, and even more than books or pictures, or music itself, for they speak to all. None are too old, too young, too ignorant nor too refined to be taught by those sweet, fragile teachers. Then, busy, planning housewives, find a place for something that will tell you "God is love" — a little flowering plant.

It need not be a rare exotic in a costly vase. Primroses, violets, hyacinths, or any sweet, simple flower in an ordinary pot is quite enough. But you can make your pot quite a work of art with a little patience, ingenuity and corks. Take a flower-pot, a small wooden box, or anything convenient, and glue on fragments of corn until the outside is covered with a rustic coat. Then fill with mold and plant your flower.

Another way is — paint your pot or box a dark brown; then, when, it is dry, gum on some of those pretty, cheap scraps in wreaths or groups, and finish with a coat of clear varnish. Yet another way is to adapt common sea shells and pebbles. Ah, they are little things, but they will brighten a room, and perhaps a sad, dark, weary soul. What memories they awaken!

But a week ago a pot of spring flowers was placed in my hand, and with their sweet breath floated the memories of ten years ago, when I gathered the wild flowers and wove them into garlands; when I was not alone, but had the companionship of one who now sleeps in God's Acre beneath the flowers, when my faith in God and man was unshaken; and for that glimpse of my fair, pure childhood I was stronger and better. Then find a place for flowers. For all your care and trouble their sweetness and beauty will reward you fourfold. — The Toronto Globe.

The Habit of Saving

1874

Wastefulness characterizes our domestic economy to an extent unheard of in more frugal countries, and we must always eat, drink and be clothed with the best the market affords. There is no economy in depriving ourselves of an abundant supply of nourishing food, decent raiment and healthful shelter, but this affords no excuse for the prevalent sin of waste, nor does it justify spending hard won wages upon expensive delicacies, unnecessarily large habitations or costly trifles. There is far too slavish a subserviency to fashion among all classes. Economy in this respect would not only save money, but tend to create a much-needed independence, both in dress and in our whole manner of life.

The only absolutely certain way of inculcating habits of economy is to begin with the children and accustom them to self-control and self-denial by saving a portion of their pocket-money or the earnings of odd minutes. There will be even a greater necessity for economy in the next generation than in this, since now the bounteous gifts of nature are being very lavishly drawn upon, and our successors are likely to live under narrower conditions than we do.


Method in Work

Do instantly whatever is to be done; take the hours of reflection for recreation after business and never before it. When a regiment is under march, the rear is often thrown into confusion because the front do not move steadily and without interruption. It is the same thing with business. If that which is first in hand is not instantly, steadily and regularly dispatched, other things accumulate behind till affairs begin to press all at once and no human brain can stand the confusion. Pray mind this; it is one of your weak points; a habit of mind it is that is very apt to beset men of intellect and talent, especially when their time is not filled up regularly but is left to their own management. But it is like the ivy round the oak, and ends by limiting if it does not destroy the power of manly and necessary exertion. — Sir Walter Scott.

The Looks of Literary Women

1874

Some one having revived the lamentable truism that literary women are seldom beautiful; that their features, and especially their foreheads, are more or less masculine, a recent writer points out some exceptions, among them Miss Landon, whose forehead was essentially feminine, and who was exceedingly pretty. Mrs. Stanton, likewise, is a pretty woman, but Miss Anthony and Mrs. Livermore are both plain. Maria and Jane Porter were women of high brows and irregular features, as was also Miss Sedgwick. Anna Dickinson has a strong masculine face; Kate Fields has a good looking, though by no means a pretty one, and Mrs. Stowe is thought to be positively homely. Alice and Phoebe Gary are both plain in features, though their sweetness in disposition added greatly to their personal appearance. Margaret Fuller had a splendid head, but her features were irregular. Charlotte Bronte had wondrously beautiful dark brown eyes and a perfectly-shaped head. Julia Ward Howe is a fine-looking woman. Laura Holloway resembles Charlotte Bronte. Neither Mary Booth nor Marion Harland can lay claim to handsome faces, while Mary Clemmer Ames is just as pleasing in features as her writings are graceful.


Man as a Leaf

Man is no better than a leaf driven by the wind until he has completely mastered his great, lonely duties. If he has no habit of retiring from all that is worldly, and of conversing face to face with his inner man, if he does not draw down upon his soul "the powers of the world to come," then he is no man yet; he has not found the life of man, nor the strength of man; he is a poor, unhappy man, sporting only with shadows, and affrighted before the real and the eternal. He owns a great house, a wonderful house, but it is shut up, and he lives outside with his fellow-cattle; the inside is wholly unknown to him, and he has lived outside so long that he is afraid of the inside. Think, my good brothers and sisters, of the great, high serene world, in which you might live and move and have your being.

What the Microscope Reveals

1878

Mold is a forest of beautiful trees, with the branches, leaves and fruit.

Butterflies are fully feathered.

Hairs are hollow tubes.

The surface of our bodies is covered with scales like a fish; a single grain of sand would cover one hundred and fifty of these scales, and yet a scale covers five hundred pores. Through these narrow openings the perspiration forces itself like water through a sieve.

Each drop of stagnant water contains a world of living creatures, swimming with as much liberty as whales in the sea.

Each leaf has a colony of insects grazing it, like a cow in a meadow. — Exchange.


Words of Wisdom

It is easier to blame than to do better.

If you wish to succeed in life, govern your temper.

We love much more warmly by cherishing the intention of giving pleasure than an hour afterwards when we have given it.

If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island cut off from other hearts, but a continent that joins them.

The last, best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the kindliest soul, is tenderness toward the hard, forbearance toward the unforbearing, warmth of heart toward the cold, and philanthropy toward the misanthropic.

Russian Proverbs

1878

When life is not bright, death does not fright.
A tongue that is pert is its own sure hurt.
Speak out with might when your cause is right.
If Heaven don't forsake us the pigs will not take us.
Truth is severe, but to God 'tis dear.
Don't plunge in the brook for a ford till you look.
If simply you live to five score, you'll survive.
Every fox praises his own tail.
Stretch your feet according to the length of your coat.
Chase two wolves and you will not catch one.
Pledge not thy word rashly but hold to it when pledged.
Dig not a pit for others lest thou fall into it thyself.
Through heedless words the head falls off.
Fear not the threats of the great but rather the tears of the poor.
A word is not a sparrow, for, once flown, you can never catch it again.
Every little frog is great in his own bog.
Disease comes in by hundred weights and goes out by ounces.
An old friend is worth two new ones.
Water runs not beneath a resting stone.
Be praised not for your ancestors but for your virtues.
To the sky 'tis high, to the czar 'tis far.

The Wonderful Tree – Story for Christmas

The Wonderful Tree
By Christopher G. Hazard
(1922, Western Newspaper Union)

It stood in the corner of a rather needy room. It was festooned with strings of popcorn and cables of cranberries. Wisps of tissue paper and tinsel ornaments were out upon the branches, and small candles stood ready to illuminate the occasion. There were many invisible things upon the tree, too. The imaginations of the children had been as busy as their dreams. Family resources may be limited, but there are no bounds in the realms of Santa Claus and hope. In the magical Christmas time the clouds of poverty are all as gilded and beautiful as any sunset can furnish. Anything may happen then. Cinderella is as hopeful as her more favored sisters; not an urchin but has an expectant eye. So the Tanner Christmas tree was as beautiful as a picture and as full of presents as a picture could be.

But, however pictured by fancy and made of good wishes, the presents were all invisible. No one could see what was in the heads of the dreamers and the hearts of the anxious but needy providers. For weeks the mill had been closed, and now the family pocketbook was about empty. Father Tanner looked at the tree, could not see a gift on it, and shook his head. Mother Tanner was inclined to make the best of it.

Yes, the tree was one of the family. It had been the tree of last year's Christmas and the tree of the year before that. It was a tree that kept its evergreen habit and that did not seem to grow old. It was like a living tree, made to bring forth its fruit every year. It had been so good to them that they had named it Bounty. And now it stood there in the dark, all dressed up, but with nothing but blossoms, without any fruit. It could see the hurrying children running to their morning disappointment. It could hear their cries of surprise and chagrin. Silly Sam, more needy of amusement than the others, would look in vain for his expected go-cart; Sue would miss the two dress patterns for her big doll, her new hat and high chair for her little doll; Bill Tanner would not get his skates; Dick would still need a sled. It was anything but a merry tree.

But it was a wonderful tree. It had a power of making itself felt all over a neighborhood. It could summon Santa Claus by a kind of wireless message that went through walls and everything. It reached as far as the folks who were having a Christmas eve party two blocks away and made them think of Mr. Folsom's mill boss and Mrs. Folsom's laundry woman. They had been wishing for some new fun for their party that day and now it came into their heads to go over and be Santa for the Tanners. So the tree drew a very silent but very busy company to the Tanners' back door.

As the children had left directions for Santa on the table it was easy to find out what the tree was expected to do, so, presently, it did it. There was more, too, than orders for the wanted things; the merrymakers had brought with them enough to satisfy any reasonable tree; there were picture books, picture puzzles, games, a scissors grinder that could make the sparks fly, a train of cars that could go, a doll that could say "mama," and candy enough to go round. For Father and Mother Tanner there was a pocketbook with gold in it, and a note of good cheer that was better than the gold.

So the wonderful tree spent the rest of the night in trembling joy. It could not sleep for thinking of the friendly love that had provided such a happy morning to come. And when the first of the morning light brought all the Tanners downstairs the tree fairly shook with pleasure, amid the wonder and the glee of that Christmas day.

As for the servants of Santa Claus, they had never had such a merry Christmas before. Their hearts were so warm that they did not mind the frost. They sang over the pleasure of giving pleasure and relief. They said they knew that Santa Claus had to live up North so that he could cool off after his warm interest in the happiness of others. They addressed him in verses that must have made him jollier than ever, calling him:

THE MAGIC MAN
There is a man who lives up north
All clad in robes and furs,
And every year he sallies forth
As love his going spurs.

He mitigates the winter's cold
That otherwise would freeze,
And keeps himself from growing old
By tending Christmas trees.

The children for his coming wait,
So do the old folks, too;
Unhappiness goes out the gate
When Santa comes to you.

And their own presents never seemed so large and good before.

The Dying Wife (poetry)

1878

The Dying Wife.

Lay the gem upon my bosom,
Let me feel her warm breath,
For a strong chill o'er me passes,
And I know it is death.
I would gaze upon the treasure—
Scarcely given ere I go—
Feel her rosy, dimpled fingers
Wander o'er my cheek of snow,

I am passing through the waters,
But a blessed shore appears;
Kneel beside me, husband, dearest,
Let me kiss away thy tears;
Wrestle with thy grief, my husband,
Strive from midnight unto day;
It may leave an angel's blessing
When it vanishes away.

Lay the gem upon my bosom,
'Tis not long she can be there,
See! how to my heart she nestles,
'Tis the pearl I love to wear.
If in after years beside thee,
Sits another in my chair,
Though her voice be sweeter music,
And her face than mine more fair;

If a cherub call thee "Father,"
Far more beautiful than this,
Love thy first-born, oh! my husband!
Turn not from the motherless;
Tell her something of her mother—
You may call her by my name!
Shield her from the winds of sorrow!
If she errs, oh! gently blame.

Lead her sometimes, where I am sleeping
I will answer if she calls,
And my breath will stir her ringlets,
When my voice in blessing falls;
Then her soft black eyes will brighten,
And shall wonder whence it came;
In her heart when years pass o'er her
She will find her mother's name.

It is said that every mortal
Walks between two angels here;
One records the ill, but blots it,
If before the midnight drear
Man repenteth — if uncancelled,
Then the right-hand angel weepeth,
Bowing low with veiled eyes.

I will be her right hand angel,
Sealing up the good for Heaven;
Striving that the midnight watches
Find no misdeeds unforgiven.
You will not forget me, husband,
When I am sleeping 'neath the sod;
Oh, love the jewel to us given
As I love thee — next to God!

Words of Wisdom

1878

Go among great folks for great sinners.

Love drifts into hate more easily than indifference into animosity.

He is no true friend who has nothing, but compliments and praise for you.

Sharp and intelligent rascals are more respected by the world than virtuous fools.

Many people find their only happiness in forcing themselves to be unhappy.

Ennui is a malady for which the only remedy is work; pleasure is only a palliative.

He who has no desire to improve upon his present condition, is usually one who most needs improvement.

Adverse criticism is cheaper than noble attempts to improve upon existing models.

We could not endure solitude were it not for the powerful companionship of hope or of some unseen one.

It is not difficult to do good for the means are constantly clustering about every man's lips and hands.

Pride is like the beautiful acacia, that lifts its head proudly above its neighbor plants, forgetting that it too, like them, has its root in the dirt.

We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as moonshine compared with the education of the heart.

The great blessings of mankind are within us and within our reach, but we shut our eyes and, like people in the dark, we fall foul upon the very thing we search for without finding it.

Evils in the journey of life are like the hills which alarm travelers upon their road; they both appear great at a distance, but when we approach them we find that they are far less insurmountable than when we had conceived them.

Manners are the shadows of virtues; the momentary display of those qualities which our fellow creatures love and respect. If we strive to become, then, what we strive to appear, manners may often be rendered useful guides to the performance of our duties.

Among the many arguments, while others have been refuted, this alone remains unshaken, that we ought to beware of committing injustice rather than of being injured, and that, above all, a man ought to study not to appear good, but to be so, both privately and publicly.

It is resignation and contentment that are best calculated to lead us safely through life. Whoever has not sufficient power to endure privations and even suffering can never feel that he is armor proof against painful emotion — nay, he must attribute to himself, or at least to the morbid sensitiveness of his nature, every disagreeable feeling he may suffer.

Books — The Best Friends

1920

THE BEST FRIENDS
by Sidney Dark, in John O'London's Weekly

When once the love of books has come into a man's life he can never be lonely, he can never be bored, he can never lose his interest in life, he can never be quite unhappy. Books are the friends that never fail, and the men and women that only live in books are the best and the most real friends of all.

The happy life is not spent altogether in the world of streets and shops and offices. A large part of it must be lived in the world of imagination. And living with the imaginings of great writers, we, too, learn to dream and the happiest homes in the world are the castles in the air that we build for ourselves. They are, indeed, the only homes the foundations of which are unshakable rocks.

Poetry Said Nourishment To Supplement Daily Bread

Ohio, 1940

A group of about fifty poetry lovers met at the Brumback Library last night to enjoy Rev. John H. Lamy's talk on "Standards of Poetic Excellence."

Rev. Lamy began by saying we need other nourishment than our daily bread and that is poetry. Without it our civilization would soon be at an end. We need not only to read poetry but we should write poetry as a form of self expression. The main value in writing is in what it does to us.

Poetry, according to Rev. Lamy's definition, is "Great thought expressed in artistic language." Verse, he said, is any thought that rhymes, while doggerel has no intention of being great thought. There are many possible standards of poetic excellence, depending on the approach, whether it is as a writer, a critic or an appreciative layman. A good way to judge a poem is to ask, "Is this one I would like to memorize?"

First, great poetry is great though, and Rev. Lamy listed and commented on six great poetic themes — aspiration, or the upward climb of the soul; nature, for beautiful nature does for us what human relations cannot do; home and country, poems that inspire patriotism and love of country, and here Rev. Lamy voiced a public protest against the silly parody on our great poems; courage, poems that make us want to draw in our chins and try again; mercy and justice, showing our responsibility toward our brother; and immortality.

Second, great poetry must be artistic in expression. Such poems make one see things; they paint pictures. All through his talk, Rev. Lamy illustrated his points by reading parts of his favorite poems, many of them learned when a boy, and he closed by commending the reading and memorizing of great poetry and the setting down of one's own thoughts.

—Van Wert Times-Bulletin, Van Wert, OH, Oct. 26, 1940, page 6.

Live For Today, Look Forward, Not Back to Past

1912

Heart to Heart Talks
By EDWIN A. NYE

LOOKING BACKWARD.

Do you remember the legend about that ancient Greek from whom Apollo took "the backward looking mind?"

All things became new.

The world was transformed to that Greek. For the first time he saw how beautiful was the world. Flowers he had not yet seen bloomed under his feet, new stars shone over his head and the changing moods of nature filled him with delight.

Why?

The change was not in the world but in the Greek. His mind had been turned backward to the happiness and the grief of the past. Now he looked outward and forward to the beauty and the joy all about him.

In our day is no Apollo to take away the backward looking mind, more's the pity.

But the symbolism holds.

Many of us need to have our mind reversed.

I know a woman who persists in looking backward and who always tells of a day when her people were rich and accustomed to many luxuries she is now denied. She is constantly deploring a situation she cannot help. She does not live save in a former day.

Worse than Lot's wife, who took a single look over her shoulder, she always faces backward.

I know a man whose constant theme of regret is the fact that he ever changed his business. He did well, he says, at the old place and was a fool to change. Certainly he is doing little good at his new place, largely for the reason that he is forever harking backward to the old.

He needs an Apollo.

Older persons are apt to foster the backward looking habit. Says grandpa from his chimney corner: "There are no days like the good old days. Now, when I was young" —

Poor grandpa!

He magnifies the past, minimizes the present and omits the future. He is dying, like some trees, at the top.

You cannot change the past, but you can discount the present and spoil the future by refusing to live in the one and to face the other.

To be successful, to stay young, to find happiness, cultivate the outward looking, forward looking mind.

Face the sun.

When you stand with your back to it the shadow is in front of you. When you face the sun the shadow is behind.

—The Janesville Daily Gazette, Janesville, WI, July 22, 1912, page 4.

Something Worth Bragging About

1915

One day I decided to visit one of my old friends and to take my little niece, five years old, with me. We were talking about dishes and my friend got one of her highly-prized hand-painted plates and was telling me how much she valued it, when the little girl broke in: "Oh, that's nuffin'. Why, we live in a hand-painted house." — Chicago Tribune.


Thinkers

"Men of thought" are the thinkers, the creators of ideas, the men who furnish the inspirations and theories, while "men of action" are the workers, who carry out the plans furnished by the others. Sometimes the two are combined in one, as in the case of Napoleon, Caesar, Da Vinci, who were at one and the same time great in both theory and practice.


Smallest Bird

The smallest bird is a Central American hummingbird, about the size of a blue bottle fly.


Daily Thought

Wise, cultivated, genial conversation is the last flower of civilization, and the best result which life has to offer us. — Emerson.


Another Try

Recruiting Officer — What's the good of coming here and saying you're only seventeen years old! Go and walk around that yard and come back and see if you're not nineteen. — Punch.

The Way Old Glory Goes (poetry)

1903

The Way Old Glory Goes

In sunlight or in stormy day,
With friendliness or foes.
The country's going just the way —
The way "Old Glory" goes.
Today — tomorrow — still she waves
Over earth's Freedom or our graves!

She arches earth — a rainbow's ray,
Or, when the storm-wind blows,
A beacon-blaze, she lights the way —
The way that freedom goes.
Today — tomorrow — still she waves
Over our glory or our graves.

Have Confidence in Yourself and You Will Succeed

1920

TWO ONE-LEGGED MEN
By Napoleon Hill

In the town of Wichita Falls, Texas, I saw a one-legged man sitting on the side-walk begging for alms.

A few questions brought out the fact that he had a fair education. He said he was begging because no one would give him work. "The world is against me and I have lost confidence in myself," he said.

Ah, there was the rub!

"I have lost confidence in myself."

Across the hall from my office is another one-legged man. I have known him for several years and I know that his schooling was slight. He has less training than the one-legged beggar.

But he is earning a thousand dollars a month. As Sales Manager of a manufacturing concern he is directing the efforts of fifty men.

The beggar displayed the stump of his amputated leg as evidence that he needed alms. The other one legged man covered up the stump of his lost leg so it would not attract attention.

The difference between the two men exists merely in viewpoint. One believes in himself and the other does not! The one who believes in himself could give up the other leg and both arms and still earn a thousand dollars a month. He could even give up both eyes, to boot, and still earn the money.

The world never defeats you until you defeat yourself. Milo C. Jones, of "Little Pig Sausage" fame, became a wealthy man out of the sausage business after paralysis had stricken him down and taken away the use of nearly every muscle in his body. He couldn't turn over in bed without aid.

As long as you have faith in yourself and that wonderful mind of yours continues to function properly, YOU CANNOT BE DEFEATED IN ANY LEGITIMATE UNDERTAKING. This statement is made without qualifications, because it is true.

—The Ada Evening News, Ada, Oklahoma, February 13, 1920, page 6.

Note: $1,000 a month in 1920 was a tremendous amount. It meant doing really really well.