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AS A MATTER OF COURSE

As A Matter of Course

BY

ANNIE PAYSON CALL

ALIUOR OF "I'OWtR TUROUGU KKTUSE "

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TIOSTON

ROBERTS B R O T H E R S

1S9C

Copyright, 1S94,
By Roberts Bkothers.

2IIntbcrsitp JDrcss :
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A.

PREFACE.

The aim of this book is to assist towards
the removal of nervous irritants, which are not
only the cause of much physical disease, but
materially interfere with the best possibilities of
usefulness and pleasure in everyday life.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Introduction 9

II. Physical Care i6

III. Amusemknts 25

IV. Brain Impressions 33

V. The Triviality of Trivialities ... 46

VI. IMooos 55

VII. Tolerance 63

VIII. Sympathy 74

IX. Others 83

X. One's Self 92

XI. Children loo

XII. Illness 107

XIII. Sentiment versus Sentimentality. . 117

XIV. Problems 125

XV. Summary 129

AS A MATTER OF COURSE,

I.

INTRODUCTION.

TN climbing a mountain, if we know the path
^ and take it as a matter of course, we are
free to enjoy the beauties of the surrounding
country. If in the same journey we see a stone
in the way and recognize our ability to step
over it, we do so at once, and save ourselves
from tripping or from useless waste of time and
thought as to how we might best go round it.

There are stones upon stones in every-day
life which might be stepped over with perfect
ease, but which, curiously enough, are consid-
ered from all sides and then tripped upon; and
the result is a stubbing of the moral toes, and
a consequent irritation of the nervous system.
Or, if semi-occasionally one of these stones is
stepped over as a matter of course, the danger

lo Asa Matter of Course.

is that attention is immediately called to the
action by admiring friends, or by the person
himself, in a way so to tickle the nervous system
that it amounts to an irritation, and causes him
to trip over the next stone, and finally tumble on
his nose. Then, if he is not wise enough to
pick himself up and walk on with the renewed
ability of stepping over future stones, he remains
on his nose far longer than is either necessary or
advisable.

These various stones in the way do more
towards keeping a nervous system in a chronic
state of irritation than is imagined. They are
what might perhaps be called the outside ele-
ments of life. These once normally faced, cease
to exist as impediments, dwindle away, and finally
disappear altogether.

Thus we are enabled to get nearer the kernel,
and have a growing realization of life itself.

Civilization may give a man new freedom, a
freedom beyond any power of description or
conception, except to those who achieve it, or it
may so bind him body and soul that in moments
when he recognizes his nervous contractions he
would willingly sell his hope of immortality to
be a wild horse or tiger for the rest of his days.

hitrodiiclion. 1 1

These stones in the way arc the result of
a perversion of civilization, and the cause of
much contraction and unnecessary suffering.

There is the physical stone. If the health of
the body were attended to as a matter of course,
as its cleanliness is attended to by those of us
who are more civilized, how much easier life
might be ! Indeed, the various trippings on, and
endeavors to encircle, this physical stone, raise
many phantom stones, and the severity of the
fall is just as great when one trips over a stone
that is not there. Don Quixote was quite ex-
hausted when he had been fighting the wind-
mills. One recognizes over and over the truth
spoken by the little girl who, when reprimanded
by her father for being fretful, said : " It is n't
i;ic, papa, it 's that banana."

There is also the over-serious stone; and this,
so far from being stepped over or any effort
made to encircle it, is often raised to the imduc
dignity of a throne, and not rested upon. It
seems to produce an inability for any sort of
recreation, and a scorn of the ncccssit}' or the
pleasure of being amused. Ever}' one will admit
that recreation is one swing of life's pendulum;
and in proportion to the swing in that direction

1 2 As a Matter of Course.

will be the strength of the swing in the other
direction, and vice versa.

One kind of stone which is not the least
among the self-made impediments is the micro-
scopic faculty which most of us possess for
increasing small, inoffensive pebbles to good-
sized rocks. A quiet insistence on seeing these
pebbles in their natural size would reduce them
shortly to a pile of sand which might be easily
smoothed to a level, and add to the comfort
of the path. Moods are stones which not only
may be stepped over, but kicked right out of
the path with a good bold stroke. And the
stones of intolerance may be replaced by an
open sympathy, — an ability to take the other's
point of view, — which will bring flowers in the
path instead.

In dealing with ourselves and others there
are stones innumerable, if one chooses to regard
them, and a steadily decreasing number as one
steps over and ignores. In our relations with
illness and poverty, so-called, the ghosts of
stones multiply themselves as the illness or the
poverty is allowed to be a limit rather than
a guide. And there is nothing that e\'orciscs
all such ghosts more truly than a free and open
intercourse with little children.

hitroihiction. 1 3

If we take this business of slipping over our
various nerve-stones as a matter of course, and
not as a matter of sentiment, we get a powerful
result just as surely as we get powerful results
in obedience to any other practical laws.

In bygone generations men used to fight and
kill one another for the most trivial cause. As
civilization increased, self-control was magnified
into a virtue, and the man who governed him-
self and allowed his neighbor to escape unslain
was regarded as a hero. Subsequently, general
slashing was found to be incompatible with a
well-ordered community, and forbearance in
killing or scratching or any other unseemly
manner of attacking an enemy was taken as
a matter of course.

Nowadays we do not know how often this old
desire to kill is repressed, a brain-impression
of hatred thereby intensified, and a nervous
iiritalion caused which has its effect upon the
entire disposition. It would hardly be feasible
to return to the killing to save the irritation that
ftjllows repression ; ci\'ilization has taken us too
far for that. But civilization does not neces-
sarily mean repression. There are many refine-
ments of baibaritv in our ci\ilization which

14 '^s a Matter of Course.

might be dropped now, as the coarser expres-
sions of such states were dropped by our ances-
tors to enable them to reach the present stage
of knives and forks and napkins. And inas-
much as we are farther on the way towards a
true civilization, our progress should be more
rapid than that of our barbaric grandfathers.
An increasingly accelerated progress has proved
possible in scientific research and discovery;
why not, then, in our practical dealings with
ourselves and one another?

Does it not seem likcl}- that the various forms
of nervous irritation, excitement, or disease may
result as much from the repressed savage within
us as from the complexity of civilization? The
remedy is, not to let the savage have his own
way; with many of us, indeed, this would be
difficult, because of the generations of repres-
sion behind us. It is to cast his skin, so to
speak, and rise to another order of living.

Certainly repression is only apparent progress.
No good physician would allow it in bodily dis-
ease, and, on careful observation, the law seems
to hold good in other phases of life.

There must be a practical way by which
these stones, these survivals of barbaric times.

Introduction. 1 5

may be stepped over and made finally to
disappear.

The first necessity is to take the practical
way, and not the sentimental. Thus true senti-
ment is found, not lost.

The second is to follow daily, even hourly,
the process of stepping over until it comes to
be indeed a matter of course. So, little by
little, shall we emerge from this mass of ab-
normal nervous irritation into what is more
truly life itself.

1 6 As a Matter of Course.

II.

PHYSICAL CARE.

"O EST, fresh air, exercise, and nourishment,
-^^ enough of each in proportion to the work
done, are the material essentials to a healthy-
physique. Indeed, so simple is the whole pro-
cess of physical care, it would seem absurd to
write about it at all. The only excuse for such
writing is the constant disobedience to natural
laws which has resulted from the useless com-
plexity of our civilization.

There is a current of physical order which, if
one once gets into it, gives an instinct as to what
to do and what to leave undone, as true as the
instinct which leads a man to wash his hands
when they, need it, and to wash them often
enough so that they never remain soiled for any
length of time, simply because that state is un-
comfortable to their owner. Soap and water
are not unpleasant to most of us in their pro-
cess of cleansing; we have to deny ourselves
nothing through their use. To keep the diges-

Physical Care. 17

tion in order, it is often necessary to deny our-
selves certain sensations of the palate which are
pleasant at the time. So by a gradual process
of not denying we are swung out of the instinct-
ive nourishment-current, and life is compli-
cated for us either by an amount of thought
as to what we should or should not eat, or by
irritations which arise from having eaten the
wrong food. It is not uncommon to find a
mind taken up for some hours in wondering
whether that last piece of cake will digest.
We can easily see how from this there might
be developed a nervous sensitiveness about eat-
ing which would prevent the individual from
eating even the food that is nourishing. This
last is a not unusual form of dyspepsia, — a dys-
pepsia which keeps itself alive on the patient's
want of nourishment.

Fortunately the process of getting back into
the true food-current is not difficult if one will
adopt it The trouble is in making the bold
plunge. If anything is eaten that is afterwards
deemed to have been imprudent, lot it disagree.
Take the full consequences and bear them like
a man, with whatever remedies are found to
lighten the painful result. Having made sure

1 8 As a Matter of Co7irse.

through bitter experience that a particular food
disagrees, simply do not take it again, and
think nothing about it. It does not exist for
you. A nervous resistance to any sort of in-
digestion prolongs the attack and leaves a
brain-impression which not only makes the
same trouble more liable to recur, but in-
creases the temptation to eat forbidden fruit.
Of course this is always preceded by a full
persuasion that the food is not likely to dis-
agree with us now simply because it did before.
And to some extent, this is true. Food that will
bring pain and suffering when taken by a tired
stomach, may prove entirely nourishing when
the stomach is rested and ready for it. In that
case, the owner of the stomach has learned once
for all never to give his digestive apparatus
work to do when it is tired. Send a warm drink
as a messenger to say that food is coming later,
give yourself a little rest, and then eat your din-
ner. The fundamental laws of health in eating
are very simple; their variations for individual
needs must be discovered by each for himself.

" But," it may be objected, " why make all
this fuss, why take so much thougb.t about what
I cat or what I do not eat?" The special

Physical Care. 19

thought is simply to be taken at first to get
into tiic normal habit, and as a means of for-
getting our digestion just as we forget the wash-
ing of our hands until we are reminded by some
discomfort; whereupon we wash them and for-
get again. Nature will not allow us to forget.
When we are not obeying her laws, she is con-
stantly irritating us in one way or another. It
is when we obey, and obey as a matter of
course, that she shows herself to be a tender
mother, and helps us to a real companionship
with her.

Nothing is more amusing, nothing could ap-
peal more to Mother Nature's sense of humor,
than the various devices for exercise which give
us a complicated self-consciousness rather than
a natural development of our physical powers.
Certain simple exercises are most useful, and if
the weather is so inclement that they cannot be
taken in the open air, it is good to have a well-
ventilated hall. Exercise with others, too, is stim-
ulating, and more invigorating when there is air
enough and to s'parc. But there is nothing tliat
shows the subjective, self-conscious state of this
generation more tlian the subjective form which
exercise takes. Instead of games and play or

20 ^s a Matter of Course.

a good vigorous walk in the country, there are
endless varieties of physical culture, most of it
good and helpful if taken as a means to an end,
but almost useless as it is taken as an end in
itself; for it draws the attention to one's self and
one's own muscles in a way to make the owner
serve the muscle instead of the muscle being
made to serve the owner. The more physical
exercise can be simplified and made objec-
tive, the more it serves its end. To climb a
high mountain is admirable exercise, for we
have the summit as an end, and the work of
climbing is steadily objective, while we get the
delicious effect of a freer circulation and all that
it means. There might be similar exercises in
gymnasiums, and there are, indeed, many exer-
cises where some objective achievement is the
end, and the training of a muscle follows as a
matter of course. There is the exercise-instinct;
we all have it the more perfectly as we obey it.
If we have suffered from a series of disobe-
diences, it is a comparatively easy process to
work back into obedience.

The fresh-air-instinct is abnormally developed
with some of us, but only with some. The pop-
ular fear of drauc^hts is one cause of its loss.

Physical Care. 2 1

The fear of a draught will cause a contraction,
tlie contraction will interfere with the circula-
tion, and a cold is the natural result.

The effect of vitiated air is well known. The
necessity, not only for breathing fresh air when
wc are quiet, but for exercising in the open,
grows upon us as we sec the result. To feel
the need is to take the remedy, as a matter
of course. — 1

The rest-instinct is most generally disobeyed,
most widely needed, and obedience to it would \
bring the most effective results. A restful state of
mind and body prepares one for the best effects
from exercise, fresh air, and nourishment. This
instinct is the more disobeyed because with the
need for rest there seems to come an inability
to take it, so that not only is e\-ery impedi-
ment magnified, but imaginary impediments
are erected, and only a decided and insistent
use of the will in dropping e\-er}'thing that
interferes, whether real or imaginary, will bring
a whiff of a breeze from the true rest current.
Rest is not always silence, but silence is always
rest; and a real silence of the mind is known
by ver\' few. I Living gained that, or e\-en ap-
proached it, we are taken by the re.it-wind itself,

22 , As a Matter of Course.

and it is strong enough to bear our full weight
as it swings us along to renewed life and new
strength for work to come.

The secret is to turn to silence at the first
hint from nature; and sleep should be the very
essence of silence itself.

All this would be very well if we were free to
take the right amount of rest, fresh air, exercise,
and nourishment ; but many of us are not. It
will not be difficult for any one to call to mind
half a dozen persons who impede the good
which might result from the use of these four
necessities simply by complaining that they
cannot have their full share of either. Indeed,
some of us may find in ourselves various stones
of this sort stopping the way. To take what we
can and be thankful, not only enables us to gain
more from every source of health, but opens the
way for us to see clearly how to get more.
This complaint, however, is less of an imped-
iment than the whining and fussing which come
from those who are free to take all four in
abundance, and who have the necessity of their
own especial physical health so much at heart
that there is room to think of little else. These
people crowd into the various schools of phys-.

Physical Care. it^

ical culture by the hundred, pervade the rest-
cures, and are ready for any new physioloj^ical
fad which may arise, with no result but more
ph)-sical culture, more rest-cure, and more fads.
Nay, there is sometimes one other result, —
disease. That gives them something tangible
to work for or to work about. But all their
eating and breathing and exercising and rest-
ing does not bring lasting vigorous health,
simply because they work at it as an end, of
which self is the centre and circumference.

The sooner our health-instinct is developed,
and then taken as a matter of course, the sooner
can the body become a perfect servant, to be
treated with true courtes}-, and then forgotten.
I fere is an instinct of our barbarous ancestry
which may be kept and refined through all
future j)hases of ci\ilization. This instinct is
natural, and the obedience to it enables us to
gain more rapitlly in other, higher instincts
which, if our ancestors had at all, were so
embryonic as not to have attained expression.

Nourishment, fresh air, exercise, rest, — so far
as these are not taken simply and in obedience
to the natural instinct, there arise physical
stones in the way, stones that form themselves

24 -^s a Matter of Course.

into an apparently insurmountable wall. There
is a stile over that wall, however, if we will but
open our eyes to see it. This stile, carefully
climbed, will enable us to step over the few
stones on the other side, and follow the phys-
ical path quite clearly.

Amusements. 25

III.

AMUSEMENTS.

'T^PIE ability to be easily and heartily amused
-*- brings a wholesome reaction from intense
thought or hard work of any kind which does
more towards keeping the nervous system in a
normal state than almost anything else of an
external kind.

As a Frenchman very aptly said : " This is all
very well, all this study and care to relieve one's
nerves ; but would it not be much simpler and
more effective to go and amuse one's self?"
The same Frenchman could not realize that in
many countries amusement is almost a lost art.
Fortunately, it is not entirely lost ; and the sooner
it is regained, the nearer we shall be to health
and happiness.

One of the chief impediments in the way of
hearty amusement is over-seriousness. There
should be two words for " serious," as there are
literally two meanings. There is a certain intense

26 Asa Matter of Course.

form of taking the care and responsibility of
one's own individual interests, or the interests
of others which are selfishly made one's own,
which leads to a surface-seriousness that is not
only a chronic irritation of the nervous system,
but a constant distress to those who come under
this serious care. This is taking life an grand
serieux. The superficiality of this attitude is
striking, and would be surprising could the
sufferer from such seriousness once see himself
(or more often it is herself) in a clear light. It
is quite common to call such a person over-
serious, when in reality he is not serious enough.
He or she is laboring under a sham seriousness,
as an actor might who had such a part to play
and merged himself in the character. These
people are simply exaggerating their own im-
portance to life, instead of recognizing life's
importance to them. An example of this is the
heroine of Mrs. Ward's " Robert Elsmcre," who
refused to marry because the family could not
get on without her; and when finally she con-
sented, the family lived more happily and
comfortably than when she considered licrself
their leader. If this woman's seriousness, which
blinded her judgment, had been real instead of

Amusements. 27

sham, the state of the case would have been
quite clear to her; but then, indeed, there would
have been no case at all.

When seriousness is real, it is never intrusive
and can never be overdone. It is simply a
quiet, steady obedience to recognized laws fol-
lowed as a matter of course, which must lead to
a clearer appreciation of such laws, and of our
own freedom in obeying them. Whereas with
a sham seriousness we dwell upon the impor-
tance of our own relation to the law, and our
own responsibility in forcing others to obey.
With the real, it is the law first, and then my
obedience. With the sham, it is myself first,
and then tlie laws ; and often a strained obedi-
ence to laws of my own making.

This sham seriousness, which is peculiarly a
New I*>ngland trait, but may also be found in
many other parts of the world, is often the per-
version of a strong, fine nature. It places many
stones in the way, most of them phantoms, which,
once stepped over and then ignored, brings to
light a nature nobly expansive, and a source of
joy to all who come in contact with it. But so
long as the " seriousness " lasts, it is quite incom-
patible with any form of real amusement

28 As a Matter of Course.

For the very essence of amusement is the
child-spirit. The child throws himself heartily
and spontaneously into the game, or whatever it
may be, and forgets that there is anything else
in the world, for the time being. Children have
nothing else to remember. We have the advan-
tage of them there, in the pleasure of forgetting
and in the renewed strength with which we can
return to our w^ork or care, in consequence.
Any one who cannot play children's games with
children, and with the same enjoyment that
children have, does not know the spirit of
amusement. For this same spirit must be taken
into all forms of amusement, especially those
that are beyond the childish mind, to bring the
delicious reaction which nature is ever ready to
bestow. This is almost a self-evident truth ; and
yet so confirmed is man in his sham maturity that
it is quite common to see one look with contempt,
and a sense of superiority which is ludicrous,
upon another who is enjoying a child's game
like a child. The trouble is that many of us
arc so contracted in and oppressed by our own
self-consciousness that open spontaneity is out
of the question and even inconceivable. The
sooner wc shake it off, the better. When the

Atmtsemenls. 29

great philosopher said, " Except ye become as
little children," he must have meant it all the way
through in spirit, if not in the letter. It certainly
is the common-sense view, whichever way we
look at it, and proves as practical as walking
upon one's feet.

With the spontaneity grows the ability to be
amused, and with that ability comes new power
for better and really serious work.

To endeavor with all your might to win, and
then if you fail, not to care, relieves a game of
an immense amount of unnecessary nervous
strain. A spirit of rivalry has so taken hold of
us and become such a large stone in the way,
that it takes wcllnigh a reversal of all our ideas
to realize that this same spirit is quite compat-
ible with a good healthy willingness that the
other man should win — if he can. Not from
the goody-goody motive of wishing your neigh-
bor to beat, — no neighbor would thank you for
placing with him in that spirit, — but from a
feeling that you have gone in to beat, you have
fXowQ. your best, as far as you could sec, and
where you have not, you have learned to i\o
better. The fact of beating is not of paramount
importance. Every man should have his chance,

30 As a Matter of Course.

and, from your opponent's point of view, provided
you were as severe on him as you knew how to
be at the time, it is well that he won. You will
see that it does not happen again.

Curious it is that the very men or women
who would scorn to play a child's game in a
childlike spirit, will show the best known form
of childish fretfulness and sheer naughtiness in
their way of taking a game which is considered
to be more on a level with the adult mind, and
so rasp their nerves and the nerves of their
opponents that recreation is simply out of the
question.

Whilst one should certainly have the ability
to enjoy a child's game with a child and like a
child, that not only does not exclude the prefer-
ence which many, perhaps most of us may have
for more mature games, it gives the power to
play those games with a freedom and ease which
help to preserve a healthy nervous system.

If, however, amusement is taken for the sole
purpose of preserving a normal nervous system,
or for returning to health, it loses its zest just in
proportion. If, as is often the case, one must
force one's self to it at first, the love of the fun will
gradually come as one ignores the first necessity

Amusements. 31

of forcing; and the interest will come sooner if
a form of amusement is taken quite opposite to
the daily work, a form which will bring new
faculties and muscles into action.

There is, of course, nothing that results in a
more unpleasant state of ciuini than an excess
of amusement. After a certain amount of care-
less enjoyment, life comes to a deadly stupid
standstill, or the forms of amusement grow
lower. In cither case the elTcct upon the nervous
SN'stcm is worse even than over-work.

The variety in sources of amusement is
endless, and the ability to get amusement out of
almost an}'thing is delightful, as long as it is
Well balanced.

/Vfter all, our amusement depends upon the
wa\' in which we take our work, and our work,
again, dc[)cnds upon the amusement; they play •
b.u-k and forth into one another's hands.

The man or the woman who cannot get the
holiday spirit, who cannot enjoy pure fun for
the sake of fun, who cannot be at one with a
liltle child, not <inl\' is missin;;; much in life that
is clear happiness, l)ut is draining his ner\'(vj.s
system, and losing his better power for work
accordingly.

32 As a Matter of Course.

This anti-amusement stone once removed, the
path before us is entirely new and refreshing.

The power to be amused runs in nations.
But each individual is in himself a nation, and
can govern himself as such ; and if he has any
desire for the prosperity of his own kingdom, let
him order a pubhc holiday at regular intervals,
and see that the people enjoy it.

Brain Impressio7is, 33

IV.

BRAIN IMPRESSIONS.

THE mere idea of a brain clear from false
impressions gives a sense of freedom
which is refreshing.

In a comic journal, some years ago, there was
a picture of a man in a most self-important
attitude, with two common mortals in the
background gazing at him. " What makes
liim stand like that?" said one. "Because,"
answered the other, " that is his own idea of
himself." The truth suggested in that picture
strikes one aghast ; for in looking about us wc
see constant examples of attitudinizing in one's
own idea of one's self. There is sometimes a
feeling of fright as to whether I am not quite
as abnormal in my idea of myself as are those
about me.

If one could only get the relief of acknowl-
edging ignorance of one's self, light would be
welcome, however given. In seeing the truth
3

34 ■^•S" <^ Matter of Course.

of an unkind criticism one could forget to
resent the spirit; and what an amount of nerve-
friction might be saved ! Imagine the surprise
of a man who, in return for a volley of abuse,
should receive thanks for light thrown upon a
false attitude. Whatever we are enabled to see,
relieves us of one mistaken brain-impression,
which we can replace by something more agree-
able. And if, in the excitement of feeling, the
mistake was exaggerated, what is that to us?
All we wanted was to see it in quality. As to
degree, that lessens in proportion as the quality
is bettered. Fortunately, in living our own idea
of ourselves, it is only ourselves we deceive,
with possible exceptions in the case of friends
who are so used to us, or so over-fond of us, as
to lose the perspective.

There is the idea of humility, — an obstinate
belief that we know we arc nothing at all, and
deserve no credit; which, literally translated,
means we know we are everything, and deserve
every credit. There is the idea, too, of immense
dignity, of freedom from all self-seeking and
from all vanity. But it is idle to attempt to
catalogue these various forms of private theatri-
cals; they are constantly to be seen about ua

Brain Impress io7ts. 35

It is with surprise unbounded that one hears
another calmly assert that he is so-and-so or
so-and-so, and in his next action, or next hun-
dred actions, sees that same assertion entirely
contradicted. Daily familiarity with the mani-
festations of mistaken brain-impressions does
not lessen one's surprise at this curious personal
contradiction ; it gives one an increasing desire
to look to one's self, and see how far these
private theatricals extend in one's own case,
and to throw off the disguise, as far as it is
seen, with a full acknowledgment that there
may be — probably is — an abundance more of
which to rid one's self in future. There are
many ways in which true openness in life, one
with another, would be of immense service;
and not the least of these is the abilitv gained
to erase false brain-impressions.

The self-condemnatory brain-impression is
quite as pernicious as its opposite. Singularly
enough, it goes with it. One often finds inor-
ilinate self-esteem combined with the most ab-
ject condemnation of self. One can be placed
against the other as a counter-irritant; but this
only as a process of rousing, for the irritatii)n of
either brings ecjual mi.^cr}'. I am not even sure

36 As a Matter of Course.

that as a rousing process it is ever really useful.
To be clear of a mistaken brain-impression, a
man must recognize it himself; and this recogni-
tion can never be brought about by an unasked
attempt of help from another. It is often
cleared by help asked and given ; and perhaps
more often by help which is quite involuntary
and unconscious. One of the greatest points in
friendly diplomacy is to be open and absolutely
frank so far as we are asked, but never to go
beyond. At least, in the experience of many,
that leads more surely to the point where no
diplomacy is needed, which is certainly the point
to be aimed at in friendship. It is trying to see
a friend living his own idea of himself, and to
be obliged to wait until he has discovered that
he is only playing a part. But this very waiting
may be of immense assistance in reducing our
own moral attitudinizing.

How often do we hear others or find ourselves
complaining of a fault over and over again ! " I
know that is a fault of mine, and has been for
years. I wish I could get over it." " I know
that is a fault of mine," — one brain-impression;
" it has been for years," — a dozen or more
brain-impressions, according to the number of

Brain Impressions. 37

years; until wc have drilled the impression of
that fault in, by emphasizing it over and over,
to an extent which daily increases the difficulty
of dropping it.

So, if we have the habit of unpunctuality, and
emphasize it by deploring it, it keeps us always
behind time. If we are sharp-tongucd, and
dwell with remorse on something said in the
past, it increases the tendency in the future.

The slavery to nerve habit is a well-known
physiological fact ; but nerve habit may be
strengthened negatively as well as positively.
When this is more widely recognized, and the
negative practice avoided, much will have been
done towards freeing us from our subservience
to mistaken brain-impressions.

Let us take an instance: unpunctuality, for
example, as that is a common form of repeti-
tion. If we really want to rid ourselves of the
habit, suppose every time we are late we cease
to deplore it ; make a vivid mental picture of
ourselves as being on time at the next appoint-
ment ; then, with the how and the when clearly
impressed upon our minds, there should be an
absolute refusal to imagine ourselves an\lhing
but early. Surely that would be quite as et'tec-

38 As a Matter of Course.

tive as a constant repetition of the regret we
feel at being late, whether this is repeated aloud
to others, or only in our own minds. As we
place the two processes side by side, the latter
certainly has the advantage, and might be tried,
until a better is found.

Of course we must beware of getting an
impression of promptness which has no ground
in reality. It is quite possible for an individual
to be habitually and exasperatingly late, with all
the air and innocence of unusual punctuality.

It would strike us as absurd to see a man
painting a house the color he did not like, and
go on painting it the same color, to show others
and himself that which he detested. Is it not
equally absurd for any of us, through the con-
stant expression of regret for a fault, to impress
the tendency to it more and more upon the
brain? It is intensely sad when the conscious-
ness of evil once committed has so impressed
a man with a sense of guilt as to make him
steadily undervalue himself and his own powers.

Here is a case where one's own idea of one's
self is seventy-five per cent below par; and a
gentle and consistent encouragement in raising
that idea is most necessary before par is reached-

Brain Impressions. 39

And par, as T understand it, is simple freedom
from any fixed idea of one's self, cither good "'
or bad.

If fixed impressions of one's self arc stones
in the way, the same certainly holds good with
fixed impressions of others. Unpleasant brain-
im[)ressions of others are great weights, and
greater impediments in the way of clearing
our own brains. Suppose So-and-so had such
a fault )'esterday ; it does not follow that he
has not rid himself of at least part of it to-day.
Why should we hold the brain-impression
of his mistake, so that every time we look
at him we make it stronger? He is not the
gainer thereb)', and we certainly are the losers.
Repeated brain-impressions of another's faults v-
prevent our discerning his virtues. We are
constantly attributing to him disagreeable mo-
tives, which arise soleh' from our idea of him,
and of which he is quite innocent. Not only
so, but our mistaken impressions increase liis
diiUculty in rising to the best of himself I-'or any
one whose teiuperament is in the least scn-iti\e
is oppressed by wliat he feels to be another's
itiea of him, until he learns tij c\c:\x hinL-eli of
that as well as of other brain impressions.

40 As a Matter of Course.

It is not uncommon to hear one go over
and over a supposed injury, or even small
annoyances from others, with the reiterated
assertion that he fervently desires to forget such
injury or annoyances. This fervent desire to
forgive and forget expresses itself by a repeated
brain-impression of that which is to be for-
given ; and if this is so often repeated in words,
how many times more must it be repeated men-
tally! Thus, the brain-impression is increased
until at last forgetting seems out of the question.
And forgiving is impossible unless one can at
the same time so entirely forget the ill-feeling
roused as to place it beyond recall.

Surely, if we realized the force and influence
of unpleasant brain-impressions, it would be a
simple matter to relax and let them escape, to
be replaced by others that are only pleasant
It cannot be that we enjoy the discomfort of
the disagreeable impressions.

And yet, so curiously perverted is human
nature that we often hear a revolting story told
with the preface, " Oh, I can't bear to think
of it ! " And the whole story is given, with a
careful attention to detail which is quite unneces-
sary, even if there were any reason for telling

Brain Impress iofis. 41

the story at all, and generally concluded with a
repetition of the prefatory exclamation. How
many pathetic sights arc told of, to no end but
the repetition of an unpleasant brain-impression.
How many past experiences, past illnesses, arc
gone over and over, which serve the same worse
than useless purpose, — that of repeating and
emphasizing the brain-impression.

A little pain is made a big one by persistent
dwelling upon it ; what might have been a short
pain is sometimes lengthened for a lifetime.
Similarly, an old pain is brought back by
recalling a brain-impression.

The law of association is well known. We all
know how familiar places and happenings will
recall old feelings; we can realize this at any
time by mentally reviving the association. V>y
dwelling on the pain we had yesterday we arc
encouraging it to return to-morrow. By empha-
sizing the impression of an annoyance of to-day
we are making it possible to suffer beyond
expression from annoyances to come; and the
annoyances, the pains, the disagreeable feelings
will find their old brain-grooves with remarkable
rapidity when given the ghost of a chance.

I have known more than one case where a

42 As a Matter of Course.

woman kept herself ill by the constant repeti-
tion, to others and to herself, of a nervous
shock. A woman who had once been fright-
ened by burglars refused to sleep for fear of
being awakened by more burglars, thus increas-
ing her impression of fear; and of course, if she
slept at all, she was liable at any time to wake
with a nervous start. The process of working
herself into nervous prostration through this
constant, useless repetition was not slow.

The fixed impressions of preconceived ideas
in any direction are strangely in the way of real
freedom. It is difficult to catch new harmonies

with old ones ringing in our ears; still more

f
difficult when we persist in listening at the

same time to disdords.

The experience of arguing with another whose
preconceived idea is so firmly fixed that the
argument is nothing but a series of circles,
might be funny if it were not sad ; and it often
is funny, in spite of the sadness.

Suppose we should insist upon retaining an
unpleasant brain-impression, only when and so
long as it seemed necessary in order to bring
a remedy. That accomplished, suppose we
dropped it on the instant. Suppose, further,

Brain Impressions. 43

that we should continue this process, and never
allow ourselves to repeat a disagreeable brain-
impression aloud or mentally. Imagine the
result. Nature abhors a vacuum; something
must come in place of the unpleasantness;
therefore way is made for feelings more com-
fortable to one's self and to others.

Ikid feelings cause contraction, good ones
expansion. Relax the muscular contraction;
take a long, free breath of fresh air, and expan-
sion follows as a matter of course. Drop
the brain-contraction, take a good inhalation
of whatever pleasant feeling is nearest, and the
expansion is a necessary consequence.

As wc expand mentally, disagreeable brain-
iniprcssions, that in former contracted states
wore eclipsed by greater ones, will be keenly
felt, and dropped at once, for the mere relief
thus obtained.

The healthier the brain, the more sensitive it
is to false impressions, and the more easily are
they dropped.

One word by way of warning. We never can
rid ourselves of an uncomfort.ible brain-iinprcs-
siun by saying, " I will try to think something
pleasant of that disagreeable man." The temp-

44 ^^ ^ Matter of Course.

tation, too, is very common to say to ourselves
clearly, " I will try to think something pleasant,"
and then leave " of that disagreeable man " a
subtle feeling in the background. The feeling
in the background, however unconscious we may
be of it, is a strong brain-impression, — all the
stronger because we fail to recognize it, — and
the result of our "something pleasant" is an
insidious complacency at our own magnanimous
disposition. Thus we get the disagreeable
brain-impression of another, backed up by our
agreeable brain-impression of ourselves, both
mistaken. Unless we keep a sharp look-out, we
may here get into a snarl from which extrication
is slow work. Neither is it possible to counter-
act an unpleasant brain-impression by something
pleasant but false. We must call a spade a
spade, but not consider it a component part of
the man who handles it, nor yet associate the
man with the spade, or the spade with the man.
When we drop it, so long as we drop it for
what it is worth, which is nothing in the case
of the spade in question, we have dropped it
entirely. If we try to improve our brain-impres-
sion by insisting that a spade is something
better and plcasantcr, we are transforming a

Braiji Impressions. 45

disagreeable impression to a mongrel state which
again brings anything but a happy result.

Simply to refuse all unpleasant brain-impres-
sions, with no efTort or desire to recast them i/'
into something that they are not, seems to be
the only clear process to freedom. Not only
so, but whatever there might have been pleasant
in what seemed entirely unpleasant can more
truly return as we drop the unpleasantness com-
pletely. It is a good thing that most of us
can approach the freedom of such a change
in imagination before we reach it in reality.
So we can learn more rapidly not to hamper
ourselves or others by retaining disagreeable
brain-impressions of the present, or by recalling
others of the past.

46 As a Matter of Course.

V.

THE TRIVIALITY OF TRIVIALITIES.

T IFE is clearer, happier, and easier for us
■* — ' as things assume their true proportions.
I might better say, as they come nearer in
appearance to their true proportions; for it
seems doubtful whether any one ever reaches
the place in this world where the sense of pro-
portion is absolutely normal. Some come much
nearer than others ; and part of the interest of
Hving is the growing realization of better pro-
portion, and the relief from the abnormal state
in which circumstances seem quite out of
proportion in their relation to one another.

Imagine a landscape-painter who made his
cows as large as the houses, his blades of grass
waving above the tops of the trees, and all ^
things similarly disproportionate. Or, worse, ,
imagine a disease of the retina which caused
a like curious change in the landscape itself,

The Triviality of Trivialities. 47

wherein a mountain appeared to be a mole-hill,
and a mole-hill a mountain.

It seems absurd to think of. And, yet, is not
the want of a true sense of proportion in the
circumstances and relations of life quite as
extreme with many of us "i It is well that our
physical sense remains intact. If wc lost that
too, there w'ould seem to be but little hope
indeed. Now, almost the only thing needed
for a rapid approach to a more normal mental
sense of proportion is a keener recognition of
the want. But this want must be found first
in ourselves, not in others. There is the incli-
nation to regard our own life as bigger and
more important than the life of any one about
us ; or the reverse attitude of bewailing its lack
of importance, which is quite the same. In
cither case our own iife is dwelt upon first.
Then there is the immediate family, after that
our own especial friends, — all assuming a gigan-
tic size which puts quite out of the question an
occasional bird's-eye view of the world in gen-
eral. Even objects which might be in the
middle distance of a less extended view arc
quite screened by the exaggerated size of those
which seem to concern us most immediately.

48 As a Matter of Course.

One's own life is important ; one's own family
and friends are important, very, when taken in
their true proportion. One should surely be
able to look upon one's own brothers and sisters
as if they were the brothers and sisters of
another, and to regard the brothers and sis-
ters of another as one's own. Singularly, too,
real appreciation of and sympathy with one's
own grows with this broader sense of relation-
ship. In no way is this sense shown more
clearly than by a mother who has the breadth
and the strength to look upon her own children
as if they belonged to some one else, and upon
the children of others as if they belonged to
her. But the triviality of magnifying one's own
out of all proportion has not yet been recog-
nized by many. -

So every trivial happening in our own lives
or the lives of those connected with us is exag-
gerated, and we keep ourselves and others in a
chronic state of contraction accordingly.

Think of the many trifles which, by being
magnified and kept in the foreground, obstruct
the way to all possible sight or appreciation of
things that really hold a more important place.
The cook, the waitress, various other annoy-

The Triviality of Trivialities. 49

anccs of housckccpincj; a gown tiiat docs not
suit, the annoyances of travel, whether \vc said
the rii^ht thin^j to so-and-S(j, whether so-and-so
hkes us or docs not like us, — indeed, there is
an immense army of trivial imps, and the
breadth of capacit}' for entertaining these imps
is so large in some of us as to be truly en-
couraging; for if the domain were once deserted
by the imps, there remains the breadth, which
must have the same ca[)acity for holding some-
thing better. Unfortunatel}', a long occupancy
b)' these miserable little offenders means evcn-
tuall)- the saddest sort of contraction. What
a picture for a new Gullixer ! — a human being
o\crwhclmed by the imps of trivialit}', and
bound kist to the ground b)' manifold windings
of their cobweb-sized thread.

This exaggeration of ttiilcs is one form of
nervous disease. It would be exceedingly
interesting and profitaljle to stuil\- the \-arioiis
pliases of nervous disease as exa;.; gerated ex-
{)ressions t)f perverted character. The}- can loe
traced directly and easily in m.ui\- cases. If a
Wv.man fusses about trivialities, sh.e fns<cs more
wl'.en she is tired. The more fiti^^iie. t!ie ir.oro
fu.^^iiig; and with a [lersi-tent teiulenc\- to

4

50 As a Matter of Course.

fatigue and fussing it does not take long to
work up or down to nervous prostration. From
this form of nervous excitement one never really
recovers, except by a hearty acknowledgment
of the trivialities as trivialities, when, with
growing health, there is a growing sense of
true proportion.

I have seen a woman spend more attention,
time, and nerve-power on emphasizing the fact
that her hands were all stained from the dye on
her dress than a normal woman would take for
a good hour's work. As she grew better, this
emphasizing of trivialities decreased, but, of
course, might have returned with any over-
fatigue, unless it had been recognized, taken at
its worth, and simply dropped. Any one can
think of example after example in his own
individual experience, when he has suffered
unnecessary tortures through the regarding of
trifling things, either by himself or by some
one near him. With many, the first instance
will probably be to insist, with emphasis and
some feeling, that they are not trivialities.

Trivialities have their importance wJicn given
their true proportion. The size of a triviality
is often exaggerated as much by neglect as by

The Triviality of Trivialities. 51

an undue amount of attention. When we do
what we can to amend an annoyance, and then
think no more about it until there appears
something further to do, the saving of nervous
force is very great. Yet, so successful have
these imps of triviaHty come to be in their rule
of human nature that the trivialities of the past
are oftentimes dwelt upon with as much earnest-
ness as if they belonged to the present.

The past itself is a triviality, except in its
results. Yet what an immense screen it is
sometimes to any clear understanding or ap-
preciation of the present ! How many of us
have listened over and over to the same tale
of past annoyances, until we wonder how it
can be possible that the constant repetition is
not recognized by the narrator! How many of
us have been over and over in our minds past
troubles, little and big, so that we have no right
whatever to feci impatient when listening to
such repetitions by others ! Here again we
have, in nervous disease, the extreme of a
common trait in humanity. With increased
nervous fatigue there is always an increase of
the tendency to repetition. Best drop it before
it gets to the fatigue stage, if possible.

52 As a Ma Her of Course.

Then again there are the common things of
life, such as dressing and undressing, and the
numberless every-day duties. It is possible to
distort them to perfect monstrosities by the
manner of dwelling upon them. Taken as a
matter of course, they are the very triviality
of trivialities, and assume their place without
second thought.

When life seems to get into such a snarl
that we despair of disentangling it, a long
journey and change of human surroundings
enable us to take a distaht view, which not
uncommonly shows the tangle to be no tangle
at all. Although we cannot always go upon
a material journey, we can change the mental
perspective, and it is this adjustment of the
focus which brings our perspective into truer
proportions. Having once found what appears
to be the true focus, let us be true to it. The
temptations to lose one's focus are many, and
sometimes severe. When temporarily thrown
off our balance, the best help is to return at
once, without dwelling on the fact that we have
lost the focus longer than is necessary to find
it again. After that, our focus is better ad-
justed and the range steadily expanded. It is

The Trivialiiy of Trivialities. 53

impossible for us to widen the range by think-
ing about it; holding the best focus we know
in our daily experience does that. Thus the
proportions arrange themselves ; we cannot
arrange the proportions. Or, what is more
nearly the truth, the proportions are in reality
true, to begin with. As with the imaginary
eye-disease, which transformed the relative
si/cs of the component j)arts of a landscape,
the fault is in the eye, not in the landscape;
so, when the circumstances of life arc quite in
the wrong proportion to one another, in our
own minds, the trouble is in the mental sight,
not in the circumstances.

liiere are many wa}'s of getting a better
focus, and ridding one's self of tri\ial anno)'-
ances. One is, to be quiet; get at a good
mental distance, lie sure that )'ou ha\e a clear
\-iew, and then hold it. AhvaN'S keep your
distance; ne\"er return to the old stand-point
if \ou can manage to keep awa)'.

We ma}' be thankful if tri\ialities annoy us
as tri\'ia!ilies. It is with those who ha\e tlie
constant habit of dwelling on ihcni witluuit
feeling the discomfort that a return to treedoni
seems iaq^ossiljle.

54 ^s ^ Matter of Course,

As one comes to realize, even in a slight
degree, the triviality of trivialities, and then
forget them entirely in a better idea of true
proportion, the sense of freedom gained is well
worth working for. It certainly brings the
possibility of a normal nervous system much
nearer.

Moods. 55

VI.

MOODS.

T) ELIEF from the mastery of an evil mood
-■■^ is like fresh air after having been several
hours in a close room.

If one should go to work deliberately to
break up another's nervous system, and if one
wore perfectly free in methods of procedure,
the best way would be to throw upon the victim
in rapid sequence a long series of the most
extreme moods. The disastrous result could
be hastened by insisting that each mood should
be resisted as it manifested itself, for then there
would be the double strain, — the strain of the
mood, and the strain of resistance. It is better
to let a mood have its way tlian to suppress it.
The stor}' of the man who suffered from vari-
cose veins and was cured i^y the waters of
Lourdes, only to die a little later from an
affection of the heart which arose from the
suppression of the former disease, is a good

56 As a Matter of Course.

.. illustration of the effect of mood-suppression.
In the case cited, death followed at once; but
death from repeated impressions of moods
resisted is long drawn out, and the suffering
intense, both for the patient and for his friends.

The only way to drop a mood is to look it
in the face and call it by its right name; then
by persistent ignoring, sometimes in one way,
sometimes in another, finally drop it altogether.
It takes a looser hold next time, and eventually
slides off entirely. To be sure, over-fatigue, an
attack of indigestion, or some unexpected con-
tact with the same phase in another, may bring
back the ghost of former moods. These ghosts
may even materialize, unless the practice of
ignoring is at once referred to ; but they can
ultimately be routed completely.

A great help in gaining freedom from moods
is to realize clearly their superficicility. Moods
are deadly, desperately serious things when
taken seriously and indulged in to the full
extent of their pov/er. They are like a tiny
spot directly in front of the eye. \Vc see that,
and that only. It blurs and shuts out every-
thing else. We groan and suffer and are un-
happy and wretched, still persistently keeping

Moods. 57

our eye on the spot, until finally we forget that
there is anything else in the world. In mind
and body we are impressed by that and that
alone. Thus the difficulty of moving off a little
distance is greatly increased, and liberation is
impossible until we do mo\'e awa)', and, by a
change of perspective, see the spot for what it
really is.

Let any one who is ruled by moods, in a
moment when he is absolutely free from them,
take a good look at all past moody states, and
he will see that they come from nothing, go to
nothing, and are nothing. Indeed, that has
been and is often done by the moody persi^n,
with at the same time an unhai)py realisation
that when the moods are on him, they are as
real as they are unreal when he is free.- To
treat a mood as a good joke when }-ou are in
its clutches, is simply out of the (lueslion. But
to sa}', " This now is a mood. Come o\\, do \-our
v.'orst; I can stand it as long as }'ou can," takes
away all ner\e-resistancc, until the thing has
nothing to clutch, and dissoh'cs for v.aut <>f
nourishment. If it proves too much fir one at
times, and breaks out in a bad e.\[)re.~->i*'n of
some sort, a (juick acknowleJ/tneiit ih it \'ou

58 As a Matter of Course,

are under the spell of a bad mood, and a
further invitation to come on if it wants to,
will loosen the hold again.

If the mood is a melancholy one, speak as
little as possible under its influence ; go on and
do whatever there is to be done, not resisting
it in any way, but keep busy.

This non-resistance can, perhaps, be better
illustrated by taking, instead of a mood, a person
who teases. It is well known that the more we
are annoyed, the more our opponent teases ; and
that the surest and quickest way of freeing our-
selves is not to be teased. We can ignore the
teaser externally with an internal irritation
which he sees as clearly as if we expressed it.
We can laugh in such a way that every sound
of our own voice proclaims the annoyance we
are trying to hide. It is when we take his
words for what they are worth, and go with
him, that the wind is taken out of his sails, and
he stops because there is no fun in it. The ex-
perience with a mood is quite parallel, though
rather more difficult at first, for there is no
enemy like the enemies in one's self, no teasing
like the teasing from one's self. It takes a little
longer, a little heartier and more persistent

Moods. 59

process of non-rcsistancc to cure the teasing
from one's own nature. But the process is just
as certain, and the freedom greater in result.

Why is it not clear to us that to set our teeth,
clench our hands, or hold any form of extreme
tension and mistaken control, doubles, trebles,
quadruples the impression of the feeling con-
trolled, and increases by many degrees its
power for attacking us another time? Persis-
tent control of this kind gives a certain sort of
strength. It might be called sham strength, for
it takes it out of one in other ways. But the
control that comes from non-resistance brings
a natural strength, which not only steadily in-
creases, but spreads on all sides, as the growth
of a tree is even in its development.

" If a man takes your cloak, give him your
coat also ; if one compel you to go a mile, go
with him twain." *' Love your enemies, do good
to them that hurt you, and pray for them that
dcspitcfully use you." Why have we been so
long in realizing the practical, I might say the
phs'siological, truth of this groat philosoph)-?
Possibly because in forgi\ing our enemies we
have been so impressed with the idea that it
was our enemies we were fori^i\inLr. If we

6o As a Matter of Course.

realized that following this philosophy would
bring us real freedom, it would be followed
steadily as a matter of course, and w'ith no more
sense that we deserved credit for doing a good
thing than a man might have in walking out
of prison when his jailer opened the door. So
it is with our enemies the moods.

I have written heretofore of bad moods only.
But there are moods and moods. In a degree,
certainly, one should respect one's moods.
Those who are subject to bad moods are equally
subject to good ones, and the superficiality of
the happier modes is just as much to be recog-
nized as that of the wretched ones. In fact,
in recognizing the shallowness of our happy
moods, we are storing ammunition for a healthy
openness and freedom from the opposite forms.
With the full realization that a mood is a mood,
we can respect it, and so gradually reach a
truer evenness of life. Moods are phases that
wc are all subject to whilst in the process of
finding our balance ; the more sensitive and
finer the temperament, the more moods. The
rhythm of moods is most interesting, and there
is a spice about the change whicli we need to
give relish to these first steps towards the art
of livincr.

Moods. 6 r

It is when their seriousness is cxapfgcratcd
that they lose their power for good and make
slaves of us. The seriousness may be equally
exaggerated in succumbing to them and in
resisting them. In either case they are our
masters, and not our slaves. They are steady
consumers of the nervous system in their ups
and downs when they master us; and of course
retain no jot of that fascination which is a good
part of their very shallowness, and brings new
hfe as we take them as a matter of course.
Tiien we are swung in tlieir rli}'thm, never once
losing sight of the point that it is the mood that
is to serve us, and not we the mood.

As we gain freedom from our own moods, we
are enabled to respect those of others and give
up any endeavor to force a friend out of his
moods, or even to lead him out, unless he shows
a desire to be led. Nor do we rejoice fully in
tb.e extreme of his happy moods, knov.'ing the
certain reaction.

Respect for the moods of others is necessary
to a perfect freedom from our own. In one
sense no man is alone in the workl ; in another
sense every man is alone; and with moLid-^i
especivilly, a man must be left to w.jrk out his

62 As a Matter of Course.

own salvation, unless he asks for help. So, as
he understands his moods, and frees himself
from their mastery, he will find that moods are
in reality one of Nature's gifts, a sort of melody
which strengthens the harmony of life and gives
it fuller tone.

Freedom from moods does not mean the loss
of them, any more than non-resistance means
allowing them to master you. It is non-resis-
tance, with the full recognition of what they are,
that clears the way.

Tolerance, 63

VII.
TOLERANCE.

WHEN wc are tolerant as a matter of
course, the nervous system is relieved
of almost the worst form of persistent irritation
it could have.

The freedom of tolerance can only be appre-
ciated by those who have known the suffering
of intolerance and gained relief.

A certain perspective is necessary to a recog-
nition of the full absurdity of intolerance. One
of the greatest absurdities of it is evident when
we are annoyed and caused intense suffering by
our intolerance of others, and, as a consequence,
blame others for the fatigue or illness which
follows. However mistaken or blind other
people may be in their habits or their ideas,
it is entirely our fault if we are anno\-cd by
them. The slightest blame given to another in
such a case, on account of our suffering, is
quite out of place.

64 Asa Matter of Cotirse.

Our intolerance is often unconscious. It is
disguised under one form of annoyance or
another, but when looked full in the face, it
can only be recognized as intolerance.

Of course, the most severe form is when the
belief, the action, or habit of another interferes
directly with our own selfish aims. That brings
the double annoyance of being thwarted and of
rousing more selfish antagonism.

Where our selfish desires are directly inter-
fered with, or even where an action which we
know to be entirely right is prevented, intoler-
ance only makes matters worse. If expressed,
it probably rouses bitter feelings in another.
Whether we express it openly or not, it keeps
us in a state of nervous irritation which is often
most painful in its results. Such irritation, if
not extreme in its effect, is strong enough to
keep any amount of pure enjoyment out of
life.

There may be some one who rouses our intol-
erant feelings, and who may have many good
points which might give us real pleasure and
profit; but they all go for nothing before our
blind, restless intolerance.

It is often the case that this imaginary enemy

Tolerance. 65

is found to be a friend and ally in reality, if •/
we once drop the wretched state of intolerance
long enough to sec him clearly.

Vet the promptest answer to such an assertion
'^'ill probably be, " That may be so in some
cases, but not with the man or woman who
rouses my intolerance."

It is a powerful temptation, this one of
intolerance, and takes hold of strong natures;
it frecjuently rouses tremendous tempests before
it can be recognized and ignored. And with
the tempest comes an obstinate refusal to call
it by its right name, and a resentment towards
others for rousing in us what should not have
been there to be roused.

So long as a tendency to anything evil is in
us, it is a good thing to have it roused, recog-
nized, and shaken oft"; and we might as reason-
a!)ly blame a rock, over which we stumble,
for the bruises rccci\'ed, as blame the person
\<\\o rouses our intolerance for the suffering
we endure.

This intolerance, which is so useless, seems

strange'ly absurd when it is roii-cd throir^h

some interference wilh our own plans ; bat it

is stranger when we are ram[)ant again.^t a

5

66 As a Matter of Course.

belief which does not in any way interfere
with us.

This last form is more prevalent in antago-
nistic religious beliefs than in anything else.
The excuse given would be an earnest desire
for the salvation of our opponent. But who
ever saved a soul through an ungracious in-
tolerance of that soul's chosen way of believ-
ing or living? The danger of loss would seem
to be all on the other side.

One's sense of humor is touched, in spite of
one's self, to hear a war of words and feeling
between two Christians whose belief is supposed
to be founded on the axiom, " Judge not, that
ye be not judged."

Without this intolerance, argument is inter-
esting, and often profitable. With it, the dis-
putants gain each a more obstinate belief in
his own doctrines ; and the excitement is
steadily destructive to the best health of the
nervous system.

Again, there is the intolerance felt from
various little ways and habits of others, — habits
which are comparatively nothing in themselves,
but which are monstrous in their effect upon a
person who is intolerant of them.

lolerance. 67

One might almost think \vc enjoyed irritated
nerves, so persistently do we dwell upon the
personal peculiarities of others. Indeed, there
is no better example of biting off one's own
nose than the habit of intolerance. It might
more truly be called the habit of irritating one's
own nervous system.

Having recognized intolerance as intolerance,
having estimated it at its true worth, the next
question is, how to get rid of it. The habit
has, not infrequently, made such a strong brain-
impression that, in spite of an earnest desire to
shake it ofT, it persistently clings.

Of course, the soil about the obnoxious
growth is loosened the moment we recognize
its true quality. That is a beginning, and the
rest is easier than might be imagined by those
who have not tried it.

Intolerance is an unwillingness that others
should live in their own way, believe as they
prefer to, hold personal habits which they enjoy
or are unconscious of, or interfere in any degree
with our wa\-s, beliefs, or habits.

That \'er}' sense of luiwillingncss cau-^es a
contraction of the ner\'es which is wasteful and
disaiireeable. The feelinc: routes the conlrac-

68 As a Matter of Course.

tion, the contraction more feeling; and so the
intolerance is increased in cause and in effect.
The immediate effect of being willing, on the con-
trary, is, of course, the relaxation of such contrac-
tion, and a healthy expansion of the nerves.

Try the experiment on some small pet form
of intolerance. Try to realize what it is to feel
quite zvilling. Say over and over to yourself
that you are quite willing So-and-so should
make that curious noise with his m.outh. Do
not hesitate at the simplicity of saying the
words to yourself; that brings a much quicker
effect at first. By and by we get accustomed
to the sensation of willingness, and can recall
it with less repetition of words, or without
words at all. When the feeling of nervous
annoyance is roused by the other, counteract
it on the instant by repeating silently: "I am
quite willing you should do that, — do it again."
The man or woman, whoever he or she may be,
is quite certain to oblige you ! There will be
any number of opportunities to be willing, until
by and by the willingness is a matter of course,
and it would not be surprising if the habit
passed entirely unnoticed, as far as you are
concerned.

Tolerance. 69

This experiment tried successfully on small
things can be carried to greater. If steadily
persisted in, a good fifty per cent of wasted
nervous force can be saved for better things ;
and this saving of nervous force is the least gain
which comes from a thorough riddance of every
form of intolerance.

" But," it will be objected, " how can I say
I am willing when I am not? "

Surely you can see no good from the irrita-
tion of unwillingness; there can be no real gain
from it, and there is every reason for gi\'ing it up.
A clear realization of the necessity for willing-
ness, both for our own comfort and for that of
others, helps us to its repetition in words. The
words said with sincere purpose, help us to
the feeling, and so we come steadily into clearer
light.

Our very willingness that a friend should
go the wrong way, if he chooses, gives us
now power to help him towards the rii^ht.
If we are mo\-ed b)' intolerance, that is self-
ishness; v.ith it will come the desire to force
our friend into the \va}' v/hich we con-ielcr
riglit. Such forcing, if e\-en a[)pareiit.!\- suc-
ccsslul, invariabl)- [produces a rLacliuu on llic

yo As a Matter of Course,

friend's part, and disappointment and chagrin
on our own.

The fact that most great reformers were and
are actuated by the very spirit of intolerance,
makes that scorning of the ways of others seem
to us essential as the root of all great reform.
Amidst the necessity for and strength in the
reform, the petty spirit of intolerance intrudes
unnoticed. But if any one wants to see it in
full-fledged power, let him study the family of a
reformer who have inherited the intolerance of
his nature without the work to which it was
applied.

This intolerant spirit is not indispensable to
great reforms; but it sometimes goes with them,
and is made use of, as intense selfishness may
often be used, for higher ends. The ends might
have been accomplished more rapidly and more
effectually with less selfish instruments. But
man must be left free, and if he will not offer
himself as an open channel to his highest im-
pulses, he is used to the best advantage possible
without them.

There is no finer type of a great reformer
than Jesus Christ ; in his life there was no
shadow of intolerance. From first to last,

Tolerance. 7 1

he showed willingness in spirit and in action.
In upbraiding the Scribes and Pharisees he
evinced no feeHng of antagonism ; he merely
stated the facts. The same firm cahn truth
of assertion, carried out in action, characterized
his expulsion of the money-changers from the
temple. When he was arrested, and through-
out his trial and execution, it was his accusers
who showed the intolerance ; they sent out
with swords and staves to take him, with a
show of antagonism which failed to affect him
in the slightest degree.

Who cannot see that, with the irritated feel-
ing of intolerance, we put ourselves on the
plane of the very habit or action we are
so vigorously condemning? W^e are inviting
greater mistakes on our part. For often the
rouscr of our selfish antagonism is quite blind
to his deficiencies, and unless he is broader in
his way than we are in ours, any show of
intolerance simply blinds him the more. Intol-
erance, through its indulgence, has come to
assume a monstrous form. It interferes with
all pleasure in life ; it makes clear, open inter-
course with others impossible ; it interferes
with any form of use into which it is permitted

72 As a Matter of Course.

to intrude. In its indulgence it is a mon-
strosity, — in itself it is mean, petty, and
absurd.

Let us then work with all possible rapidity
to relax from contractions of unwillingness, and
become tolerant as a matter of course.

Whatever is the plan of creation, we cannot
improve it through any antagonistic feeling of
our own against creatures or circumstances.
Through a quiet, gentle tolerance we leave our-
selves free to be carried by the laws. Truth
is greater than we are, and if we can be the
means of righting any wrong, it is by giving
up the presumption that we can carry truth,
and by standing free and ready to let truth
carry us.

The same willingness that is practised in
relation to persons will be found equally
effective in relation to the circumstances of
life, from the losing of a train to matters far
greater and more important. There is as much
intolerance to be dropped in our relations to
various happenings as in our relations to per-
sons ; and the relief to our nerves is just as
great, perhaps even greater.

It seems to be clear that heretofore we have

Tolerance. 73

not realized either the relief or the strength
of an entire willingness that people and things
should progress in their own way. How can
we ever gain freedom whilst we arc entangled
in the contractions of intolerance?

I'reedom and a healthy nervous system are
synon)'mous; wc cannot have one without the
other.

74 As a Matter of Course.

VIII.

SYMPATHY.

SYMPATHY, in its best sense, is the ability
to take another's point of view. Not to
mourn because he mourns ; not to feel injured
because he feels injured. There are times when
we cannot agree with a friend in the necessity
for mourning or feeling injured; but we can
understand the cause of his disturbance, and
see clearly that his suffering is quite reasonable,
from his own poijit of view. One cannot blame
a man for being color-blind ; but by thoroughly
understanding and sympathizing with the fact
that red vmst be green as he sees it, one can
help him to bring his mental retina to a more
normal state, until every color is taken at its
proper value.

This broader sort of sympathy enables us to
serve others much more truly.

If we feel at one with a man who is suffering
from a supposed injury which may be entirely

Sympathy. 75

his own fault, wc are doing all in our power to
confirm him in his mistake, and his impression
of martyrdom is increased and protracted in pro-
portion. But if, with a genuine comprehension
of his point of view, however unreal it may be in
itself, we do our best to see his trouble in an
unprejudiced light, that is sympathy indeed; for
our real sympathy is with the man himself,
cleared from his selfish fog. What is called
our sympathy with his point of view is more a
matter of understanding. The sympathy which
takes the man for all in all, and includes the
comprehension of his prejudices, will enable us
to hold our tongues with regard to his prejudiced
view until he sees for himself or comes to us for
advice.

It is interesting to notice how this sympathy
with another enables us to understand and for-
give one from whom wc have received an injury.
His point of view taken, his animosity against
us seems to follow as a matter of course ; then
no time or force need be wasted on resentment.

Again, you cannot blame a man for being
blind, even though his blindness may be abso-
liitel)- and entirely selfish, and )-ou the sutTerer
in consequence.

76 As a Matter of Course.

It often follows that the endeavor to get a
clear understanding of another's view brings
to notice many mistaken ideas of our own,
and thus enables us to gain a better standpoint
It certainly helps us to enduring patience ;
whereas a positive refusal to regard the preju-
dices of another is rasping to our own nerves,
and helps to fix him in whatever contraction
may have possessed him.

There can be no doubt that this open sym-
pathy is one of the better phases of our human
intercourse most to be desired. It requires a
clear head and a warm heart to understand the
prejudices of a friend or an enemy, and to
sympathize with his capabilities enough to help
him to clearer mental vision.

Often, to be sure, there are two points of
view, both equally true. But they generally
converge into one, and that one is more easily
found through not disputing our own with
another's. Through sympathy with him we are
enabled to see the right on both sides, and reach
the central point.

It is singular that it takes us so long to
recognize this breadth of sympathy and practise
it. Its practice would relieve us of an immense

Sympathy. 7 7

amount of unnecessary nerve-strain. But the
nerve-relief is the mere beginning of gain to
come. It steadily opens a clearer knowledge
and a heartier appreciation of human nature.
We see in individuals traits of character, good
and bad, that ue never could have recognized
\vhilst blinded by our own personal prejudices.
By becoming alive to various little sensitive
spots in others, we are enabled to avoid them,
and save an endless amount of petty suffering
which might increase to suffering that was
really severe.

One good illustration of this want of s}^mpathy,
in a small way, is the waiting room of a well-
known nerve-doctor. The room is in such a
state of confusion, it is such a mixture of colors
and forms, that it would be fatiguing even for
a person in tolerable health to stay there for
an hour. Yet the doctor keeps his sensiti\'e,
nervously excited patients sitting in this hetero-
geneous mass of discordant objects hour after
liour. Surely it is no psychological subtlet)' o{
insight that gives a man of this type his name
and fame: it must be the feeding and resting
process al.)ne; fjr a man of sensitive s}'nipathy
would study to sa\-e his patients !)}' taking

78 As a Matter of Course.

their point of view, as well as to bring them to
a better physical state through nourishment
and rest.

The ability to take a nervous sufiferer's point
of view is greatly needed. There can be no
doubt that with that effort on the part of
friends and relatives, many cases of severe
nervous prostration might be saved, certainly
much nervous suffering could be prevented.

A woman who is suffering from a nervous
conscience writes a note which shows that she
is worrying over this or that supposed mis-
take, or as to what your attitude is towards
her. A prompt, kind, and direct answer will
save her at once from further nervous suffering
of that sort. To keep an anxious person,
whether he be sick or well, watching the mails,
is a want of sympathy which is also shown in
many other ways, unimportant, perhaps, to us,
but important if we are broad enough to take
the other's point of view.

There are many foolish little troubles from
which men and women suffer that come only
from tired nerves. A wise patience with such
anxieties will help greatly towards removing
their cause. A wise patience is not indulgence.

Sympathy. 79

An elaborate nervous letter of great length is
better answered by a short but very kind note.

The sympathy which enables us to understand
the point of view of tired nerves gives us the
power to be lovingly brief in our response to
them, and at the same time more satisf)'ing
than if we responded at length.

Most of us take human nature as a great
whole, and judge individuals from our idea in
general. Or, worse, we judge it all from our
own personal prejudices. There is a grossness
about this which we wonder at not ha\-ing seen
before, when we compare the finer sensitiveness
which is surely developed by the steady effort
to understand another's point of view. We
know a whole more perfectly as a whole if we
have a tlistinct knowledge of the component
parts. We can only understand human nature
eJi viassc through a daily clearer knowledge of
and sympathy with its indi\'iduals. Ever\' one
of us knows the happiness of ha\-ing at Ica^t
one friend whom he is perfectly sure will neith.er
undervalue him nor give him undeserved [■)raise.
and whose friendship and \\Q.\\i he can count
ufion, no matter how great a wrong he has
done, as securely as he ccnild count upon his

8o yis a Matter of Course.

loving thought and attention in physical illness.
Surely it is possible for each of us to ap-
proach such friendship in our feeling and atti-
tude towards every one who comes in touch
with us.

It is comparatively easy to think of this open
sympathy, or even practise it in big ways ; it
is in the little matters of everyday life that the
difficulty arises. Of course the big ways count
for less if they come through a brain clogged
with little prejudices, although to some extent
one must help the other.

It cannot be that a man has a real open
sympathy who limits it to his own family and
friends ; indeed, the very limit would make the
open sympathy impossible. One is just as far
from a clear comprehension of human nature
when he limits himself by his prejudices for his
immediate relatives as when he makes himself
alone the boundary.

Once having gained even the beginning of
this broader sympathy with others, there follows
the pleasure of freedom from antagonisms,
keener delight in understanding others, individ-
ally and collectively, and greater ability to serve
others; and all these must give an impetus

Synipalhy. 8 1

which takes us steadily on to greater freedom,
to clearer understanding, and to more power
to serve and to be served.

Others have many experiences which we
have never even touched upon. In that case,
our ability to understand is necessarily limited.
The only thing to do is to acknowledge that
we cannot see the point of view, that we have
no experience to start from, and to wait with an
open mind until we are able to understand.

Curiously enough, it is precisely these persons
of limited exi)erience who are most prone to
prejudice. I have heard a man assert with
emphasis that it was every one's duty to be
happy, who had ap{)arently not a single thing
in life to interfere with his own happiness. The
duty may be clear enough, but he certainly
was not in a position to recognize its difficult)'.
AiilI just in proportion with his inabi!it\' to
ta'ice another's point of view in such difficult}'
tiid he miss his power to lead others to Uus
agreeable duty.

There are, of course, innumerable things, litilc
and big, which we shall be enabled to ;.;i\e to
others and to receive from others as the true
sympathy grows.

82 j^s a Matter of Course.

The common-sense of it all appeals to us
forcibly.

Who wants to carry about a mass of personal
prejudices when he can replace them by the
warm, healthy feeling of sympathetic friendship?
Who wants his nerves to be steadily irritated
by various forms of intolerance when, by un-
derstanding the other's point of view, he can
replace these by better forms of patience?

This lower relief is little compared with the
higher power gained, but it is the first step up,
and the steps beyond go ever upward. Human
nature is worth knowing and worth loving, and
it can never be known or loved without open
sympathy.

Why, we ourselves are human nature !

Many of us would be glad to give sympathy
to others, especially in little ways, but we do
not know how to go to work about it; we seem
always to be doing the wrong thing, when our
desire is to do the right. This comes, of course,
from the same inability to take the other's point
of view; and the ability is gained as we are quiet
and watch for it.

Practice, here as in everything else, is what
helps. And the object is well worth working for.

Others. ^i

IX.

OTHERS.

TTOW to live at peace with others is a prob-
^^ lem which, if practically solved, would re-
lieve the nervous system of a great weight, and
give to living a lightness and ease that might for
a time seem weirdly unnatural. It would cer-
tainly decrease the income of the nerve-special-
ists to the extent of depriving those gentlemen
of man)' luxuries they now enjoy.

Peace di")es not mean an outside civility with
an inside dislike or annoyance. In that case,
the repressed antagonism not only increases the
brain-impression and wears upon the nervous
svstem, but it is sure to manifest itself some
time, in one form or another; and the longer it
is repressed, the worse will be the effect. It may
be a volcanic eruption that is produced after
long repression, wliich simmers down to a
chronic interior grumble; or it may be that
the repression has caused sucli steadily incrcas-

84 As a Matter of Course.

ing contraction that an eruption is impossible.
In this case, life grows heavier and heavier, bur-
dened with the shackles of one's own dislikes.

If we can only recognize two truths in our re-
lations with others, and let these truths become
to us a matter of course, the worst difficulties
are removed. Indeed, with these two simple
bits of rationality well in hand, we may safely
expect to walk amicably side by side with our
dearest foe.

The first is, that dislike, nine times out of ten,
is simply a " cutaneous disorder." That is, it is
merely an irritation excited by the friction of
one nervous system upon another. The tiny
tempests in the tiny teapots which are caused
by this nervous friction, the great weight at-
tached to the most trivial matters of dispute,
would touch one's sense of humor keenly if it
were not that in so many cases these tiny tem-
pests develop into real hurricanes. Take, for
example, two dear and intimate friends who
have lived happily together for years. Neither
has a disposition which is perfect; but that fact
has never interfered with their friendship. Both
get ovcr-tircd. Words are spoken which sound
intensely disagreeable, even cruel. They really

Others, 85

express nothing in the world but tired nerves.
They are received and misinterpreted by tired
nerves on the other side. So these two sets of
nerves act and react upon one another, and
from nothing at all is evolved an ill-feeling
which, if allowed to grow, separates the friends.
Each is fully persuaded that his cutaneous
trouble has profound depth. By a persistent
refusal of all healing salves it sometimes sinks
in until the disease becomes really deep seated.
All this is so unnecessary. Through the same
mistake many of us carry minor dislikes which,
on account of their number and their very pet-
tiness, are wearing upon the nerves, and keep
us from our best in whatever direction we may
be working.

The remedy for all these seems very clear
when once we find it. Recognize the shallow-
ness of the disorder, acknowledge that it is a
more matter of nerves, and avoid the friction.
Keep your distance. It is perfectly possible
and very comfortable to keep }-our distance
from the irritating peculiarities of another,
while ha\'ing daily and familiar rclati'jns with
him or her. The difficulty is in getting to a
distance when we have allowed ourselves to be

86 Asa Matter of Course,

over-near ; but that, too, can be accomplished
with patience. And by keeping a nervous dis-
tance, so to speak, we are not only relieved
from irritation, but we find a much more de-
lightful friendship ; we see and enjoy the quali-
ties in another which the petty irritations had
entirely obscured from our view. If we do not
allow ourselves to be touched by the personal
peculiarities, we get nearer the individual
himself.

To give a simple example which would per-
haps seem absurd if it had not been proved
true so many times : A man was so annoyed by
his friend's state of nervous excitability that in
taking a regular morning walk with him, which
he might have enjoyed heartily, he always
returned fagged out. He tried whilst walking
beside his friend to put himself iji imagination
on the other side of the street. The nervous
irritation lessened, and finally ceased; the walk
was delightful, and the friend — never suspected !

A Japanese crowd is so well-bred that no one
person touches another; one need never jostle,
but, with an occasional " I beg your pardon,"
can circulate with perfect ease. In such a
crowd there can be no irritation.

Others. 87

There is a certain good-breeding which leads
us to avoid friction with another's nervous sys-
tem. It must, however, be an avoidance inside
as well as outside. The subterfuge of holding
one's tongue never works in the end. There
is a subtle communication from one nervous
system to another which is more insinuating
than any verbal intercourse. Those nearest us,
and whom we really love best, are often the
very persons by whom we are most annoyed.
As we learn to keep a courteous distance from
their personal peculiarities our love grows
stronger and more real ; and an open frankness
in our relation is more nearly possible. Strangely
enough, too, the personal peculiarities some-
times disappear. It is possible, and quite as
necessary, to treat one's own ncr\-ous system
with this distant courtesy.

This brings us to the second simple truth.
In nine cases out of ten the cause of this nerv-
ous irritation is in ourselves. If a man loses
Ills temper and rouses us to a return attack,
how can we blame him? Are we not quite as
bad in hitting back? To be sure, he began it.
lUit did he? How do wc know wliat roused
him? Then, too, he might have [)ourcd vol-

88 As a Matter of Course.

leys of abuse upon us, and not provoked an
angry retort, if the temper had not been latent
within US; to begin with. So it is with minor
matters. In direct proportion to our freedom
from others is our power for appreciating their
good points; just in proportion to our slavery
to their tricks and their habits are we blinded
to their good points and open to increased
irritation from their bad ones. It is curious
that it should work that way, but it does. If
there is nothing in us to be roused, we are all
free ; if we are not free, it is because there is
something in us akin to that which rouses us.
This is hard to acknowledge. But it puts our
attitude to others on a good clean basis, and
brings us into reality and out of private theatri-
cals ; not to mention a clearing of the nervous
system which gives us new power.

There is one trouble in dealing with peo-
ple which does not affect all of us, but which
causes enough pain and suffering to those who
are under its influence to make up for the im-
munity of the rest. That is, the strong feeling
that many of us have that it is our duty to
reform those about us whose life and ways are
not according to our ideas of right.

Others. 89

No one ever forced another to reform, against
that other's will. It may have appeared so ; but
there is sure to be a reaction sooner or later.
The number of nervous systems, however, that
have been overwrought by this effort to turn
others to better ways, is sad indeed. And in
many instances the owners of these nervous
systems will pose to themselves as martyrs ;
and they are quite sincere in such posing.
They are living their own impressions of them-
selves, and wearing themselves out in conse-
quence. If they really wanted right for the
sake of right, they would do all in their power
without intruding, would recognize the other
as a free agent, and wait. But they want right
because it is their way; consequently they are
crushed by useless anxiety, and suffer super-
fluously. This is true of those who feel them-
selves under the necessity of reforming all who
come in touch with them. It is more sadly
true of those whose near friends seem steadily
to be working out their own destruction. To
stand aside and be patient in this last case
rccjuircs strength indeed. But such patience
clears one's mind to sec, and gives power to
act when action can prove effccti\'e. Indeed, as

90 As a Matter of Course.

the ability to leave others free grows in us, our
power really to serve increases.

The relief to the nervous system of dropping
mistaken responsibility cannot be computed.
For it is by means of the nervous system -that
we deal with others ; it is the medium of our
expression and of our impression. And as it
is cleared of its false contractions, does it not
seem probable that we might be opened to an
exquisite delight in companionship that we
never knew before, and that our appreciation
of human nature would increase indefinitely?

Suppose when we find another whose ways
are quite different from ours, we immediately
contract, and draw away with the feeling that
there is nothing in him for us. Or suppose,
instead, that we look into his ways with real
interest in having found a new phase of human
nature. Which would be the more broadening
process on the whole, or the more delightful?
Frequently the contraction takes more time and
attention than would an effort to understand the
strange ways. We are almost always sure to find
something in others to which we can respond,
and which awakens a new power in us, if onl}' a
new power of s}'mpathy.

Others. 9 1

To sum it all up, the best way to deal with
others seems to be to avoid nervous friction of
any sort, inside or out; to harbor no ill-will
towards another for selfishness roused in one's
self; to be urged by no presumptive sense of
responsibility; and to remember that we are all
in the same world and under the same laws. A
loving sympathy with human nature in general,
leads us first to obey the laws ourselves, and
gives us a fellow-feeling with individuals which
means new strength on both sides.

To take this as a matter of course does not
seem impossible. It is simply casting the skin
of the savage and rising to another plane, where
there will doubtless be new problems better
worth attention.

92 As a Matter of Course.

X.

ONE'S SELF.

TO be truly at peace with one's self means
rest indeed.
There is a quiet complacency, though, which
passes for peace, and is like the remarkably
clear red-and-vvhite complexion which indicates
disease. It will be noticed that the sufferers
from this complacent spirit of so-called peace
shrink from openness of any sort, from others
or to others. They will put a disagreeable feel-
ing out of sight with a rapidity which would
seem to come from sheer fright lest they should
see and acknowledge themselves in their true
guise. Or they will acknowledge it to a cer-
tain extent, with a pleasure in their own
humility which increases the complacency in
proportion. This peace is not to be desired.
With those who enjoy it, a true knowledge of
or friendship with others is as much out of the

Ones Self. 93

question as a knowledge of themselves. And
when it is broken or interfered with in any way,
the pain is as intense and real as the peace was
false.

The first step towards amicable relations with
ourselves is to acknowledge that wc are living
with a stranger. Then it sometimes happens
that through being annoyed by some one else
we are enabled to recognize similar disagreeable
tendencies in ourselves of which we were totally
ignorant before.

As honest dealing with others always pays
best in the end, so it is in all relations with one's
self. There are many times when to be quite
open with a friend we must wait to be asked.
With ourselves no such courtesy is needed.
We can speak out and done with it, and the
franker we are, the sooner we are free. For,
unlike other companions, we can enjoy our-
selves best when we are conspicuous only by
our own absence !

It is this constant persistence in clinging to
ourselves that is most in the way ; it increases
that crown of nervous troubles, self-conscious-
ness, and makes it quite impossible tliat we
should ever really know oursehes. If b}' all

94 As a Matter of Course.

this, we are not ineffable bores to ourselves,
we certainly become so to other people.

It is surprising, when once we come to recog-
nize it, how we are in an almost chronic state of
posing to ourselves. Fortunately, a clear recog-
nition of the fact is most effectual in stopping
the poses. But they must be recognized, pose
by pose, individually and separately stopped,
and then ignored, if we want to free ourselves
from ourselves entirely.

The interior posing-habit makes one a slave
to brain-impressions which puts all freedom
out of the question. To cease from such pos-
ing opens one of the most interesting gates to
natural life. We wonder how we could have
obscured the outside view for so long.

To find that we cannot, or do not, let our-
selves alone for an hour in the day seems the
more surprising when we remember that there
is so much to enjoy outside. Egotism is im-
mensely magnified in nervous disorders; but
that it is the positive cause of much nervous
trouble has not been generally admitted.

Let any one of us take a good look at the
amount of attention given by ourselves to our-
selves. Then acknowledge, without flinching.

Ones Self. 95

what amount of that attention is unnecessary;
and it will clear the air delightfully, for a mo-
ment at any rate.

The tendency to refer everything, in some
way or another, to one's self; the touchiness
and suspicion aroused by nothing but petty
jealousy as to one's own place ; the imagined
slights from others ; the want of consideration
given us, — all these and many more senseless
irritations are in this over-attention to self. The
worries about our own moral state take up so
great a place with many of us as to leave
no room for any other thought. Indeed, it is
not uncommon to see a woman worr\'ing so
over her faults that she has no time to correct
them. Self-condemnation is as great a vanity
as its opposite. Either in one way or another
there is the steady temptation to attend to
one's self, and along with it an irritation of
the nerves which keeps us from any sense of
real freedom.

With most of us there is no great depth to the
self-disease if it is only stopped in time. \\"hen
once we are well started in the wholesome prac-
tice of getting rid of ourselves, the pr-^cess is
rapid. A thorough freedom from self once

96 As a Matter of Course.

gained, we find ourselves quite companionable,
which, though paradoxical, is without doubt a
truth.
/ " That freedom of the soul," writes Fenelon,
^ " which looks straight onward in its path, losing
no time to reason upon its steps, to study them,
or to dwell upon those already taken, is true
simplicity." We recognize a mistake, correct it,
go on and forget. If it appears again, correct
it again. Irritation at the second or at any
number of reappearances only increases the
brain-impression of the mistake, and makes
the tendency to future error greater.

If opportunity arises to do a good action,
take advantage of it, and silently decline the
disadvantage of having your attention riveted
to it by the praise of others.

A man who is constantly analyzing his phys-
ical state is called a hypochondriac. What
shall we call the man who is constantly ana-
lyzing his moral state? As the hypochon-
driac loses all sense of health in holding the
impression of disease, so the other gradually
loses the sense of wholesome relation to himself
and to others.

If a man obeyed the laws of health as a mat-

Ones Self. 97

ter of course, and turned back every time Na-
ture convicted him of disobedience, he would
never feel the need of self-analysis so far as his
physical state was concerned. Just so far as
a man obeys higher laws as a matter of course, /
and uses every mistake to enable him to know
the laws better, is morbid introspection out
of the question with him,

" Man, know thyself! " but, being sure of the
desire to know thyself, do not be impatient
at slow progress; pay little attention to the
process, and forget thyself, except when remem-
bering is necessary to a better forgetting.

To live at real peace with ourselves, we must
surely let every little e\il imp of selfishness
show himself, and not have any skulking around
corners. Recognize him for his full worthless-
ncss, call him by his right name, and move off.
Having called him by his right name, our sever-
it)' with ourselves for harboring him is unneces-
s:ir\'. To be gentle with ourselves is quite as
important as to be gentle with others. Great
nervous suffering is caused by this over-severity
to one's self, and freedom is never accomplished
by that means. I\Ian\- of us are not severe
euuugh, but very many are too severe. One

98 As a Matter of Course.

mistake is quite as bad as the other, and as
disastrous in its effects.

J If we would regard our own state less, or
careless whether we were happy or unhappy,
our freedom from self would be gained more
rapidly.

As a man intensely interested in some special
work does not notice the weather, so we, if we
once get hold of the immense interest there may
be in living, are not moved to any depth by

v' changes in the clouds of our personal state.
We take our moods as a matter of course, and
look beyond to interests that are greater. Self
may be a great burden if we allow it. It is only
a clear window through which we see and are
seen, if we are free. And the repose of such
freedom must be beyond our conception until
we have found it. To be absolutely certain that
we know ourselves at any time is one great
impediment to reaching such rest. Every bit
of self-knowledge gained makes us more doubt-
ful as to knowledge to come. It would surprise
most of us to see how really unimportant we
are. As a part of the universe, our importance
increases just in proportion to the laws that
work through us; but this self-importance ib lost

Ones Self. 99

to us entirely in our greater recognition of the
laws. As we gain in the sensitive recognition
of universal laws, every petty bit of self-contrac-
tion disappears as darkness before the rising
of the sun.

loo As a Matter of Course.

XI.

CHILDREN.

TT rORK for the better progress of the
* * human race is most effective when it
is done through the children; for children are
future generations. The freedom in mature life
gained by a training that would enable the child
to avoid nervous irritants is, of course, greatly
in advance of most individual freedom to-day.
This real freedom is the spirit of the kinder-
garten ; but Frobel's method, as practised
to-day, does not attack and put to rout all those
various nervous irritants which are the enemies
of our civilization. To be sure, the teaching
of his philosophy develops such a nature that
much pettiness is thrown off without even being
noticed as a snare ; and Frobel helps one to
recognize all pettiness more rapidly. There
are, however, many forms of nervous irritation
which one is not warned against in the kinder-
garten, and the absence of which, if the child is

Children. loi

taught as a matter of course to avoid them, will
give him a freedom that his elders and betters (?)
lack. The essential fact of this training is that
it is only truly effectual when coming from ex-
ample rather than precept.

A child is exquisitely sensitive to the short-
comings of others, antl very keen, as well as cor-
rect, in his criticism, whether expressed or unex-
pressed. In so Hir as a man consents to be taught
by children, does he not only remain young, but
he frees himself from the habit of impeding his
own progress. This is a great impediment, this
unwillingness to be taught by those whom we
consider more ignorant than ourselves because
they have not been in the world so long. Did
no one ever take into account the possibility of
our eyes being blinded just because they had
been exposed to the dust longer? Certainly
one possible way of clearing this dust and
avoiding it is to learn from observing those
who have had less of it to contend with.
Indeed, one might go so far as to say that no
training of any child could be effectual to a
lasting degree unless the education was nuitual.
When Frobel says, "Come, let us live witli our
children," he does not moan, C<,>me, let us stoo[)

I02 As a Matter of Course.

to our children ; he means, Let us be at one
with them. Surely a more perfect harmony
in these two great phases of human nature —
the child and the man — would be greatly to
the advantage of the latter.

Yet, to begin at the beginning, who ever feels
the necessity of treating a baby with respect?
How quickly the baby would resent intrusive
attentions, if it knew how. Indeed, I have seen
a baby not a year old resent being transferred
from one person to another, with an expression
of the face that was most eloquent. Women
seem so full of their sense of possession of a I
baby that this eloquence is not even observed,
and the poor child's nervous irritants begin at a
very early age. There is so much to be gained
by keeping at a respectful nervous distance from
a baby, that one has only to be quiet enough
to perceive the new pleasure once, to lose the
temptation to interfere ; and imagine the relief
to the baby ! It is, after all, the sense of pos-
session that makes the trouble ; and this sense
is so strong that there are babies, all the way
from twenty to forty, whose individuality is
intruded upon so grossly that they have never
known what freedom is ; and when they venture

Children. 103

to struggle for it, their suffering is intense.
This is a steadily increasing nervous contraction,
both in the case of tlie possessed and the pos-
sessor, and perfect nervous health is not pos-
sible on either side. To begin by respecting
the individuality of the baby would i)ut this last
abnormal attitude of parent and child out of the
question. Curiously enough, there is in some
of the worst phases of this parent-child contrac-
tion an external appearance of freedom which
only enhances the internal slavery. When a
man, who has never known what it was in
reality to give up a strong will, prides himself
upon the freedom he gives to his child, he
is entangling himself in the meshes of self-
deception, and either depri\ing another of his
own, or ripening him for a good hearty hatred
which may at any time mean volcanoes and
earthquakes to both.

This forcible resentment of and resistance to
the strong will of another is a cause of great
nervous suffering, the greater as the expression
of such feeling is repressed. Se\'erc illness ma\'
easily be the result.

To train a child to gain freedom from the
various nervous irritants, one must not onl\' be

I04 y^s a Matter of Course.

gaining the same freedom one's self, but must
practise meeting the child in the way he is
counselled to meet others. One must refuse to
J be in any way a nervous irritant to the child.
In that case quite as much instruction is received
as given. A child, too, is doubly sensitive ; he
not only feels the intrusion on his own individu-
ality, but the irritable or self-willed attitude of
another in expressing such intrusion.

Similarly, in keeping a respectful distance, a
teacher grows sensitive to the child, and again
the help is mutual, with sometimes a balance in
favor of the child.

This mistaken, parent-child attitude is often
the cause of severe nervous suffering in those
whose only relation is that of friendship, when
one mind is stronger than the other. Some-
times there is not any real superior strength on
the one side; it is simply by the greater gross-
ness of the will that the other is overcome.
This very grossness blinds one completely to
the individuality of a finer strength ; the finer
individual succumbs because he cannot compete
with crowbars, and the parent-child contraction
IS the disastrous result. To preserve for a child
a normal nervous system, one must guide but

Children. 105

not limit him. It is a sad sight to see a mother
impressing upon a little brain that its owner is
a naughty, naughty boy, especially when such
impression is increased by the irritability of the
mother. One hardly dares to think how many
more grooves are made in a child's brain
which simply give him contractions to take
into mature life with him ; how main- trivial
happenings arc made to assume a monstrous
form through being misrepresented. It is worth
while to think of such dangers, such warping
influences, only long enough to a\'oid them.

A child's imagination is so exquisitely alive,
his whole little being is so responsive, that the
guidance which can be given him through
happy brain-impressions is eminently practi-
cable. To test this responsiveness, and feci it
more kcenl}', just tell a child a dramatic stor\-,
and watch his face respond ; or e\'en recite a
Mother-Goose rhyme with all the expression at
}'our command. The little face changes in
rapid succession, as one event after another is
related, in a way to put a modern act<'r to
shame. If the response is so quick en tlie
outside, it must be at least uquall)' acti\e
within.

J

1 06 As a Matter of Course.

One might as well try to make a white rose
red by rouging its petals as to mould a child
according to one's own idea of what he should
be ; and as the beauty and delicacy of the rose
would be spoiled by the application of the
pigment, so is the baby's nervous system twisted
and contracted by the limiting force of a
grosser will.

Water the rose, put it in the sun, keep the
insect enemies away, and then enjoy it for itself.
Give the child everything that is consistent with
its best growth, but neither force the growth
nor limit it; and stand far enough off to see the
individuality, to enjoy it and profit by it. Use
the child's imagination to calm and strengthen
it; give it happy channels for its activity; guide
it physically to the rhythm of fresh air, nourish-
ment, and rest; then do not interfere.

If the man never turns to thank you for such
guidance, because it all came as a matter of
course, a wholesome, powerful nervous system
will speak thanks daily with more eloquence
than any words could ever express.

Illness, 107

XII.

ILLNESS.

A S far as \vc make circumstances guides and
not limitations, they serve us. Other-
wise, we serve them, and suffer accordinc^ly.
Just in proportion, too, to our allowing circum-
stances to be limits do we resist them. Such
resistance is a nervous strain which disables us
physically, antl of course puts us more in the
clutches of what appears to be our misfortune.
The moment we begin to regard every circum-
stance as an opportimity, the tables arc turned
on I-'ate, and we have the upper hand of her.

When we come to think of it, how much
common-sense there is in making the best of
every " opportunity," and what a lack of sense
in chafing at that which we choose to call our
limitations ! The former way is sure to bring a
good result of some sort, be it ever so small ;
the latter wears upon our nerves, blinds onr

1 08 jt^s a Matter of Course.

mental vision, and certainly does not cultivate
the spirit of freedom in us.

How absurd it would seem if a wounded
man were to expose his wound to unnecessary-
friction, and then complain that it did not heal !
Yet that is what many of us have done at one
time or another, when prevented by illness from
carrying out our plans in life just as we had
arranged. It matters not whether those plans
were for ourselves or for others; chafing and
fretting at their interruption is just as absurd
and quite as sure to delay our recovery, " I
know," with tears in our eyes, " I ought not to
complain, but it is so hard," To which com-
mon-sense may truly answer: "If it is hard,
you want to get well, don't you? Then why
do you not take every means to get well, instead
of indulging first in the very process that will
most tend to keep you ill? " Besides this, there
is a dogged resistance which remains silent,
refuses to complain aloud, and yet holds a state
of rigidity that is even worse than the external
expression. There are many individual ways
of resisting. Each of us knows his own, and
knows, too, the futility of it; we do not need
to multiply examples.

Illness. 109

The patients who resist recovery are quite as
numerous as those who keep themselves ill by
resisting illness. A person of this sort seems to
be fascinated by his own body and its disorders.
So far from resisting illness, he may be said to
be indulging in it. He will talk about himself
and his physical state for hours. He will locate
each separate disease in a way to surprise the
listener by his knowledge of his own anatomy.
Not infrequently he will preface a long account
of liimsclf by informing you that he has a
hearty detestation of talking about himself, and
never could understand why people wanted to
talk of their diseases. Then in minute de-
tail he will reveal to you his brain-impression
of his own case, and look for sympathetic
response. These people might recover a hun-
dred times over, and they would never know it,
so occupied are they in living their own idea of
themselves and in resisting Nature.

When Nature has knocked us down because
of disobedience to her laws, we resist her if wo
attempt at once to rise, or complain uf the pun-
i.-^hment. When the dear lady would ha^ten our
recovery to the best of her abilit\', we resist
her if we dela\' i^rogress by duelling on the
punishment or ch.uing at its necessit}'.

no As a Matter of Course,

Nature always tends towards health. It is to
v^ I prevent further ill- health that she allows us to
'sufifer for our disobedience to her laws. It is
to lead us back to health that she is giving the
best of her powers, having dealt the deserved
punishment. The truest help we can give
Nature is not to think of our bodies, well or
ill, more than is necessary for their best
health.

I knew a woman who was, to all appear-
ances, remarkably well ; in fact, her health was
her profession. She was supposed to be a
Priestess of Health. She talked about and
dwelt upon the health of her body until one
would have thought there was nothing in the
world worth thinking of but a body. She dis-
played her fine points in the way of health, and
enjoyed being questioned with regard to them.
This woman was taken ill. She exhibited the
same interest, the same pleasure, in talking over
and dwelling upon her various forms of illness ;
in fact, more. She counted her diseases. I am
not aware that she ever counted her strong
points of health.

This illustration is perhaps clear enough to
give a new sense of the necessity for forgetting
our bodies. When ill, use every necessary

Illness, 1 1 1

remedy; do all that is best to bring renewed
health. Having made sure you are doing all
you can, forget ; don't follow the process.
When, as is often the case, pain or other suffer-
ing puts forgetting out of the question, use no
unnecessary resistance, and forget as soon as
the pain is past. Don't strengthen the impres-
sion by talking about it or telling it over to no
purpose. Better forego a little sympathy, and
forget the pain sooner.

It is with our nerves that we resist when
Nature has punished us. It is nervous strain
that we put into a useless attention to and
repetition of the details of our illness. Nature
wants all this nerve-force to get us well tiie
faster; we can save it for her by not resisting
and by a healthy forgetting. By taking an
illness as comfortably as possible, and turning
our attention to something pleasant outside of
ourselves, recovery is made more rapidly.

I\Iany illnesses are accompanied by more or
less nervous strain, and its natural control will
assist nature and enable medicines to work
more quickl\'. Tlie slowest process of recov-
ery, and that which most needs the relief of a
wholesome non resistance, is when the illness

112 As a Matter of Course.

is the result entirely of over-worked nerves.
Nature allows herself to be tried to the utmost
before she permits nervous prostration. She
insists upon being paid in full, principal and
interest, before she heals such illness. Sa
severe is she in this case that a patient may
appear in every way physically well and strong
weeks, nay, months, before he really is so. It
was the nerves that broke down last, and the
nerves are the last to be restored. It is, how-
ever, wonderful to see how much more rapid
and certain recovery is if the patient will only
separate himself from his nervous system, and
refuse all useless strain.

Here are some simple directions which may
help nervous patients, if considered in regular
order. They can hardly be read too often if
the man or woman is in for a long siege ; and
if simply and steadily obeyed, they will shorten
the siege by many days, nay, by many weeks
or months, in some cases.

Remember that Nature tends towards health.
All you want is nourishment, fresh air, exercise,
rest, and patience.

All your worries and anxieties now are tired
nerves.

Ilhicss. 1 1 3

When a worry appears, drop it. If it appears
again, drop it again. And so continue to drop
it if it appears fifty or a hundred times a day
or more.

If you feel like crying, cry; but know that
it is the tired nerves that are crying, and don't
wonder why you are so fooHsh, — don't feel
ashamed of yourself.

If you cannot sleep, don't care. Get all the
rest you can without sleeping. That will bring
sleep when it is ready to come, or you are ready
to have it.

Don't wonder whether you are going to sleep
or not. Go to bed to rest, and let sleep come
when it pleases.

Think about everything in Nature. Follow
the growing of the trees and flowers. Remem-
ber all the beauties in Nature you have ever
seen.

Say Mother-Goose rh}'mes over and over,
trying how many you can remember.

Read bright stories for children, and quiet
no\'cls, especially Jane ^Yusten's.

.Sometimes it helps to work on arithmetic.

Keep aloof from emotions.

Think of other people.

114 As a Matter of Course.

Never think of yourself.

Bear in mind that nerves always get well in
waves ; and if you thought yourself so much
better, — almost wejl, indeed, — and then have a
bad time of suffering, don't wonder why it is,
or what could have brought it on. Know that
it is part of the recovery-process; take it as
easily as you can, and then ignore it.

Don't try to do any number of things to get
yourself well; don't change doctors any num-
ber of times, or take countless medicines.
Every doctor knows he cannot hurry your
recovery, whatever he may say, and you only
retard it by being over-anxious to get strong.

Drop every bit of unnecessary muscular
tension.

When you walk, feel your feet heavy, as if
your shoes were full of lead, and think in
your feet.

Be as much like a child as possible. Play
with children as one of them, and think with
them when you can.

As you begin to recover, find something
every day to do for others. Best let it be in the
way of house-work, or gardening, or something
to do with your hands.

Illness. 1 1 5

Take care of yourself every day as a matter
of course, as you would dress or undress; and
be sure that health is coming. Say over and
over to yourself: Nourishment, fresh air, exer-
cise, rest, PATIENCE.

When you are well, and resume your former
life, if old associations recall the unhappy
nervous feelings, know that it is only the associ-
ations ; pay no attention to the suffering, and
work right on. Only be careful to take life
very quietly until you are quite used to being
well again.

An illness that is merely nervous is an im-
mense opportunity, if one will only realize it
as such. It not only makes one more genuinely
appreciative of the best health, and the way to
keep it, it opens the sympathies and gives a
feeling for one's fellow-creatures which, having
once found, we cannot prize too highly.

It would seem hard to believe that all must
suffer to find a delicate sympathy; it can hardly
be so. To be always strong, and at the same
time full of warm sympatiiy, is possible, with
more thought. When illness or adverse cir-
cumstances bring it, the gate has been opened
for us.

1 1 6 As a Matter of Course.

If illness is taken as an opportunity to better
health, not to more illness, our mental attitude
will put complaint out of the question ; and as
the practice spreads it will as surely decrease
the tendency to illness in others as it will
shorten its duration in ourselves.

Sentiment versus Setitimentaliiy. 1 1 7

XIII.

SENTIMENT versus SENTIMENTALHT.

T^REEDOM from sentimentality opens the
^ way for true sentiment.

An immense amount of time, thought, and
nervous force is wasted in sentinicntaHzing
about " being good." With many, the amount
of talk about their evils and their desire to
overcome them is a thermometer which indi-
cates about five times that amount of thought.
Neither the talk nor the thought is of assistance
in leading to any greater strength or to a more
useful life; because the talk is all talk, and the
essence of both talk and thought is a selfish,
morbid pleasure in duelling upon one's self.
I remember the remark of a young girl who
had been several times to pra}-er-meeting where
she heard the same woman say every time that
she " longed for the true spirit of religion in
her life." With all simplicit}-, this child said:
" If she longs for it, wli\- due.-> n't she work and

1 18 As a Matter of Course.

find it, instead of coming every week and telling
us that she longs?" In all probability the
woman returned from every prayer-meeting with
the full conviction that, having told her aspira-
tions, she had reached the height desired, and
was worthy of all praise.

Prayer-meetings in the old, orthodox sense
are not so numerous as they were fifty years
ago ; but the same morbid love of teUing one's
own experiences and expressing in words one's
own desires for a better life is as common
as ever.

Many who would express horror at these
public forms of sentimentalizing do not hesitate
to indulge in it privately to any extent. Nor
do they realize for a moment that it is the same
morbid spirit that moves them. It might not
be so pernicious a practice if it were not so
steadily weakening.

If one has a spark of real desire for better
ways of Hving, sentimentalizing about it is a sure
extinguisher if practised for any length of time.

A woman will sometimes pour forth an
amount of gush about wishing to be better,
broader, nobler, stronger, in a manner that
would lead you, for a moment, perhaps, to be-

Sentiment versus Sentimentality, 1 1 9

licvc in her sincerity. But when, in the next
hour, you see her neglecting little duties that
a woman who was really broad, strong, and noble
would attend to as a matter of course, and not
give a second thought to ; when you see that
although she must realize that attention to these
'^mailer duties should come first, to open the
way to her higher aspirations, she continues to
neglect them and continues to aspire, — you arc
surely right in concluding that she is using up
her nervous system in sentimentalizing about a
better life ; and by that means is doing all in
her power to hinder the achievement of it.

It is curious and very sad to see what might
be a really strong nature weakening itself
steadily with this philosophy and water. Of
course it reaches a maudlin state if it continues.

His Satanic Majesty must offer this dose,
sweetened with the sugar of self-love, with
intense satisfaction. And if we may personify
that gentleman for the sake of illustration, what
a fine sarcastic smile must dwell upon his coun-
tenance as he sees it swallowed and enj.<}-c(l,
and knows that he tlid not even ha\-e to wa^tc
spice as an ingredient ! The sugar would h.u'C
drowned the taste of any spice he could suppl\-.

1 20 As a Matter of Course.

There is not even the appearance of strength
in sentimentalizing.

Besides the sentimentalizing about ourselves
in our desire to live a better life, there is the
same morbid practice in our love for others ;
and this is quite as weakening. It contains, of
course, no jot of real affection. What whole-
some love there is lives in spite of the sentimen-
talizing, and fortunately is sometimes strong
enough on one side or the other to crowd it out
and finally exterminate it.

It is curious to notice how often this sham
sentiment for others is merely a matter of
nerves. As an instance we can take an
example, which is quite true, of a woman who
fancied herself desperately fond of another, when,
much to her surprise, an acute attack of tooth-
ache and dentist-fright put the " affection "
quite out of her head. In this case the " love"
was a nervous irritant, and the toothache a
counter-irritant. Of course the sooner such
superficial feeling is recognized and shaken off,
the nearer we are to real sentiment.

" But," some one will say, " how are we to
know what is real and what is not? I would
much rather live my life and get more or less

Sentiment versus Sentimentality. 1 2 1

unreality than have this everlasting analyzing."
There need be no abnormal analyzing; that is
as morbid as the other state. Indulge to your
heart's content in whatever seems to you real,
in what you believe to be wholesome sentiment.
But be ready to recognize it as sham at the
first hint you get to that effect, and to drop it
accordingly.

A perfectly healthy body will shed germs
of disease without ever feeling their presence.
So a perfectly healthy mind will shed the germs
of sentimentality. Few of us are so healthy in
mind but that we have to recognize a germ or
two and apply a disinfectant before we can reach
the freedom that will enable us to shed the germs
unconsciously. A good disinfectant is, to refuse
to talk of our own feelings or desires or affec-
tions, unless for some end which we know may
help us to more light and better strength.
Talking, however, is mild in its weakening effect
compared with thinking. It is better to dribble
sham sentiment in words over and over than to
think it, and repress the desire to talk. The
only clear way is to drop it from our minds
the moment it appears ; to lot go of it as we
would 'loosen our fingers and drop something
dis:i'^rceablc from our hands.

12 2 As a Matter of Course.

A good amount of exercise and fresh air
helps one out of sentimentaHzing. This morbid
mental habit is often the result of a body ill in
some way or another. Frequently it is simply
the effect of tired nerves. We help others and
ourselves out of it more rapidly by not men-
tioning the sentimentalizing habit, but by taking
some immediate means towards rest, fresh air,
vigorous exercise, and better nourishment.

Mistakes are often made and ourselves or
others kept an unnecessary length of time in-
mental suffering because we fail to attribute a
morbid mental state to its physical cause. We
blame ourselves or others for behavior that we
call wicked or silly, and increase the suffering,
when all that is required is a little thoughtful
care of the body to cause the silly wickedness
to disappear entirely.

We are supposed to be indulging in sickly
sentiment when we are really suffering from
sickly nerves. An open sympathy will detect
this mistake very soon, and save intense suffer-
ing by an early remedy.

Sentiment is as strengthening as sentimentality
is weakening. It is as strong, as clear, and as
fine in flavor as the other is sickly sweet. No

Sentiment versus Sentitncntality. i 23

one who has tasted the wholesome vigor of the
one could ever care again for the weakening
sweetness of the other, however much he might
have to suffer in getting rid of it. True senti-
ment seeks us ; we do not seek it. It not only
seeks us, it possesses us, and runs in our blood
like the new life which comes from fresh air
on top of a mountain. With that true senti-
ment we can feel a desire to know better things
and to live them. We can feel a hearty love
for others ; and a love that is, in its essence, the
strongest of all human loves. We can give and
receive a healthy sympathy which we could
never have known otherwise. We can cnj(iy
talking about ourselves and about" being good,"
because every word we say will be spontaneous
and direct, with more thouglit of law than of
self. This true sentiment seeks and finds us
as we recognize the sham and shake it off, and
as we refuse to dwell upon our actiims and
thoughts in the past, or to look back at all
except when it is a necessity to gain a better
result.

We are like Orpheus, and true sentiment is
our luirydice with her touch on <uir shoulder;
the spirits that follow are the shani-senliincnts,

1 24 As a Matter of Course.

the temptations to look back and pose. The
music of our lyre is the love and thought we
bring to our every-day life. Let us keep steadily
on with the music, and lead our Eurydice right
through Hades until we have her safely over
the Lethe, and we know sentimentality only as
a name.

Problems.

125

XIV.
PROBLEMS.

THERE are very few persons who have not
had the experience of giving up a prob-
lem in mathematics late in the evening, and
waking in the morning with the solution clear
in their minds. That has been the experience
of many, too, in real-life problems. If it were
more common, a great amount of nervous strain
might be saved.

There are big problems and little, real and
imaginary; and some that are merely tired
nerves. In problems, the useless nervous ele-
ment often plays a large part. If the " prob-
lems " were dropped out of mind with sufferers
from nervous prostration, their progress towards
renewed health might be just twice as rapid.
If they were met normally, many nervous men
and women might be entirely saved from even
a bowing acquaintance with nervous prostration.
It is not a difficult matter, that of meeting a

126 As a Matter of Course.

problem normally, — simply let it solve itself.
In nine cases out of ten, if we leave it alone and
live as if it were not, it will solve itself. It is at
first a matter of continual surprise to see how
surely this self-solution is the result of a whole-
some ignoring both of little problems and big
ones.

In the tenth case, where the problem must be
faced at once, to face it and decide to the best
of our ability is, of course, the only thing to
do. But having decided, be sure that it ceases
to be a problem. If we have made a mistake,
it is simply a circumstance to guide us for simi-
lar problems to come.

All this is obvious; we know it, and have
probably said it to ourselves dozens of times.
If we are sufferers from nervous problems, we
may have said it dozens upon dozens of times.
The trouble is that we have said it and not
acted upon it. When a problem will persist
in worrying us, in pulling and dragging upon
our nerves, an invitation to continue the worry-
ing until it has worked itself out is a great help
towards its solution or disappearance.

I remember once hearing a bright woman say
that when there was anything difficult to decide

Problems. 127

in her life she stepped aside and let the oppos-
ing elements fight it out within her. Presum-
ably she herself threw in a little help on one
side or the other which really decided the bat-
tle. But the help was given from a clear stand-
point, not from a brain entirely befogged in the
thick of the fight

Whatever form problems may take, however
important they may seem, when they attack
tired nerves they must be let alone. A good
way is to go out into the open air and so
identify one's self with Nature that one is drawn
away in spite of one's self. A big wind will
sometimes blow a brain clear of nervous prob-
lems in a very little while if we let it have
its will. Another way out is to interest one's
self in some game or other amusement, or to
get a healthy interest in other people's affairs,
and help where we can.

Each individual can find his own favorite
escape. Of course we should never shirk a
problem that must be decided, but let us
always wait a reasonable time for it to decide
itself first. The solving that is done for us
is invariably better and clearer than any we
could do for ourselves.

1 28 As a Matter of Course.

It will be curious, too, to see how many
apparently serious problems, relieved of the
importance given them by a strained nervous
system, are recognized to be nothing at all.
They fairly dissolve themselves and disappear.

Summary. 129

XV.

SUMMARY.

THE line has not been clearly drawn, either
in general or by individuals, between true
civilization and the various perversions of the
civilizing process. This is mainly because we
do not fairly face the fact that the process
of civilization is entirely according to Nature,
and that the perversions which purport to be a
direct outcome of civilization are, in point of
fact, contradictions or artificialities which are
simply a going-over into barbarism, just as too
far east is west.

If you suggest "Nature" in habits and cus-
toms to most men nowadays, they at once
interpret you to mean " beastly," although they
would never use the word.

It is natural to a beast to be beastly : he could

not be anything else ; and the true order of his

life as a beast is to be respected. It is natural

to a man to govern himsiif, as he pt^s^csses the

u

130 As a Matter of Course.

power of distinguishing and choosing. With
all the senses and passions much keener, and
in their possibilities many degrees finer, than
the beasts, he has this governing power, which
makes his whole nervous system his servant
just in so far as through this servant he
loyally obeys his own natural laws. A man
in building a bridge could never complain when
he recognized that it was his obedience to the
laws of mechanics which enabled him to build
the bridge, and that he never could have arbi-
trarily arranged laws that would make the
bridge stand. In the same way, one who has
come to even a slight recognition of the laws
that enable him to be naturally civilized and not
barbarously so, steadily gains, not only a realiza-
tion of the absolute futility of resisting the laws,
but a growing respect and affection for them.

It is this sham civilization, this selfish refine-
ment of barbarous propensities, this clashing of
nervous systems instead of the clashing of
weapons, which has been largely, if not en-
tirely, the cause of such a variety and extent
of nervous trouble throughout the so-called
civilized world. It is not confined to nerv-
ous prostration; if there is a defective spot

Sum7nary. 1 3 1

organically, an inherited tendency to weakness,
t'lie nervous irritation is almost certain to con-
centrate upon it instead of developing into a
general nervous break-down.

With regard to a cure for all this, no super-
ficial remedy, such as resting and feeding, is
going to prove of lasting benefit; any more
than a healing salve will suffice to do away with
a blood disease which manifests itself by sores
on the surface of the skin. No physician would
for a moment inveigle himself into the belief
that the use of external means alone would cure
a skin disease that was caused by some internal
disorder. Such skin irritation may be easily
cured by the right remedy, whereas an external
salve would only be a means of repression, and
would result in much greater trouble subse-
quently.

Imagine a man superficially cured of an ill-
ness, and then exposed while yet barely conva-
lescent to influences which produce a relapse.
That is what is done in many cases when a
[Kitient is rested, and fattened like a prize pig,
and then sent home into all the old conditions,
with nothing to help him to ehide them but a
wcU-fcd, well-rested bod\'. That, undeniably,

132 As a Matter of Course.

means a great deal for a short period ; but the
old conditions discover the scars of old wounds,
and the process of reopening is merely a matter
of time. From all sides complaints are heard
of the disastrous results of civilization; while
with even a slight recognition of the fact that
the trouble was caused by the rudiments of bar-
barism, and that the higher civilization is the
life which is most truly natural, remedies for
our nervous disorders would be more easily
found.

It is the perversions of the natural process of
civilization that do the harm ; just as with so-
called domesticated flowers there arise coarse
abnormal growths, and even diseases, which the
wholesome, delicate organism of a wild flower
makes impossible.

The trouble is that we do not know our own
best powers at all ; the way is stopped so effect-
ually by this persistent nervous irritation. With
all its superficiality, it is enough to impede tlie
way to the clear, nervous strength which is cer-
tainly our inheritance.

After all, what has been said in the foregoing
chapters is simply illustrative of a prevalent
mental skin-disorder.

Summary. 133

If the whole world were suffering from a
physical cutaneous irritation, the minds of in-
dividuals would be so concentrated on their
sensations that no one could know of various
wonderful powers in his own body which are
now taken as a matter of course. There would
be self-consciousness in every physical action,
because it must come through, and in spite
of, external irritation. Just in so far as each
individual one of us found and used the right
remedy for our skin-trouble should we be free
to discover physical powers that were unknown
to our fellow-sufferers, and free to help them to
a similar remedy when they were willing to be
helped.

This mental skin-disorder is far more irritat
ing and more destructive, and not only leads
to, but actually is, in all its forms, a sort of self-
consciousness through which we work with real
diiTicult}'.

To discover its shallowness and the simplicity
of its cure is a boon we can hardly realize until,
by steady application, we have found the relief.
The discovery and cure do not lead to a mil-
lennium any more than the cure of any skin dis-
ease guarantees permanent health. For deeper

1 34 As a Matter of Course.

personal troubles there are other remedies. Each
will recognize and find his own; but freedom,
through and through, can never be found, or
even looked for clearly, while the irritation
from the skin disease is withdrawing our at-
tention.

" But, friends,
Truth is within ourselves : it takes no rise
From outward things ; whatever you may believe,
There is an inmost centre in us all
Where truth abides in fulness ; and around.
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,
This perfect clear perception which is truth.
A baffling and perverting carnal mesh
Blinds it, and makes all error; and TO know
Rather consists in opening out a way
Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape.
Than in effecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without."

Browning's " baffling and perverting carnal
mesh " might be truly interpreted as a nervous
tangle which is nothing at all except as we
make it with our own perverted sight.

To help us to move a little distance from the
phantom tangle, that it may disappear before
our eyes, has been the aim of this book. So by

Summary. 135

curing our mental skin-disease as a matter of
course, and then forgetting that it ever existed,
we may come to real life. This no one can
find for another, but each has within himself
the way.

THE END.

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POWER THROUGH REPOSE.

By ANNIE PAYSON CALL.

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Putting aside the question as to whether the scheme of the soul's develo])-
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This story begins where others end ; the title of the first chapter, " I Die,"
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cot lifted above the anxieties of a bread-winning life could have written this work;
Miich is steeped in ttiat sweetness and lif;ht, the virtues of which Mr- Arnold to
•kiquently pre.tches- Compared with Mr. Hamerton's former writinrs, ' Thj

Intellectual Life' is incomparably his best production But aoove aU,

And speci.iUy as critics, are we ch.irmed with the larpe imjiartiality of the writer.
Mr Hamcrton is one of those peculiarly fortunate men who h.ive the inclination
and means to live an ideal life. From nis youth he has lived in an atmospher*
of culture and light, movinf; with clipped wings in a diarmed circle of thought.
PoBsexsint; a peculiarly refined and delicate nature, a p.issionate love of beauty,
and purity and art ; and having the means to gratify his tastc-s, Mr. H.^mertoo
has held himself al(x>f from the commonplace routine of life ; and by constant
Mudy of books and nature and his fellow men, has so purified his intellect and
tcmi>ered his iud);ment, that he is able to view things from a higher platform cvea
than more able men whose natures have been soured, cr.irapcd, or influenced bj
the necessities of a Laborious existence. Hence the rare impartiality of his deo-
■ions, the Mlliolirity of his views, and the sym[)athy with which he can discusa
the most irreconcilable doctrines. To read Mr. Hamerton's wrilings is an intel-
lectual Injury. They are not boisterous'.y strcjng, or exciting, or even very forci-
ble ; but they are instinct with the finest feeling, the bro.»dest sympathies, and a
philosophic calm that acts like an opiate on the unstrung nerves of the hard-
wrought literary reader. Calm, equable, and bciutiful, ''i'he Intcllcctu.il Life,
when contrasted with the sensational and half digested da(>-trai> that forms K
Urge a [Kirtion of contem[)orar>' literature, reminds one of the old picture of the
Duius moving alwut, calm and self-possessed, through the fighting and blasphem-
ing crowils th.it thronged the bcleagircd city."

"This b<Kjk it written with perfect singleness of piirp<.se to help other*
tovxrds an intellettual life," says the Botton Daily AJx-ertiser.

•* It is eminently a book of counsel and instruction," says the Boston Pett,
A bo'ik, which it seems to us will take a i>ennaneot place in literatu:*,
mej% th« Srw York Daily Mail.

Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, fostfaid, by the Pub
UeJkort*

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston.

Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.

PRISONERS OF POVERTY.

WOMEN WAGE-WORKERS : THEIR TRADES AND
THEIR LIVES.

By HELEN CAMPBELL,

UTHOR OF "the WHAT-TO-DO CLUB," " MRS. HERNDON's INCOME," " MISS

melinda's opportunity," etc
i6ino. Cloth. $i.oo. Paper, 50 cents.

The author writes earnestly and warmly, but without prejudice, and her volume
is an eloquent plea for the amelioration of the evils with which she deals. In the
present importance into which the labor question generally has loonted, this vol-
ume is a timely and valuable contribution to its literature, and merits wide read-
ing and careful thought. — Saiurday Evening Gazette.

She has given us a most etTective picture of the condition of New York working-
women, because she has brought to the study of the subject not only great care
but uncommon aptitude. She has made a close personal investigation, extending
apparently over a long time; she has had the penetration to search many queer
and dark corners which are not often thought of by similar explorers ; and we
susi)ect that, unlike too many philanthroiiists, she has the faculty of winning con-
fidence and extracting the truth. She is sympathetic, but not a sentimentalist ;
she appreciates exactness in facts and figures ; she can see both sides of a ques-
tion, and she has abundant common sense. — AVw York Tribune.

Helen Campbell's " Prisoners of Poverty" is a striking example of the trite
phrase tliat " truth is stranger than fiction." It is a series of p ctures of the lives
of women wage-workers in New York, based on the minutest personal inquiry ar.d
observation. No work of fiction has ever presented more startling pictures, and,
indeed, if they occurred in a novel would at once be stamped as a figment of the
brain. . . . Altogethe', Mr<. CanijibeH's bonk is a notable contribution to the labor
Jiterature of the day, and will undoubtedly enlist sympathy for the cause of the c.p-
pressed working- women whose stoiiesdo their ovvn pleading. — Springfield Union.

It is good to see a new book by Helen Campbell. She has written several
for ihe cause of working-women, and now comes her latest and best work, cat ed
" Pnsiiners of Poverty,'' on women wage-workers and their lives. It is com]ii cd
fiom a series of |iapers written for the Sunday edition of a New York paper. 'Ihe
autlior is well qualified to write on these topics, having jiersonally investigated the
horrible situation of a vast army of working-women in New York, — a reflection of
the same conditions that exist in all large cities.

It is gad tidings to hear that at last a voice is raised for the woman side of these
^reat labor questions tliat are seething be'ow the surface calm of society. And it
i< well that one so eloquent and sympaihetic as Helen Campbell has spoken in be-
half of the victims and against the horrors, the injustices, and the crimes that have
forced them into conditions of living — if it can be called living — that are worse than
death. It is painful to read of these terrors that exist so near our doors, but none
the less necessary, for no person of mind or heart can thrust this knowledge aside.
It is the first step towards a solution of the labor complications, some of which
have assumed foul shapes and colossal proportions, through ignorance, weakness,
and wickedness. — Hartford Times.

Sold by all booksellers. Mailed., post-paid, on receipt oj
iirice, by the picbliskers,

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston

Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.

BITS OF TALK

ABOUT HOME MATTERS,
By H. H.

Aui.ior of " Verses,'" and " Bits of Travel"" Squar»
xZino. Cloth, red edges. Price, $l.oo.

•*A Nkw GospRL FOR Mothers. — W« wish that eery mother In
the land would read ' Bits of Talk about Home Matters, 'oy H. H , and
that they would read it thouj;htl'uUy. 'Ihe l.itttr suirgesilou is, however,
wli'iily utiiiece^sary : the book seizes one's llioushts and sympathies, as
only startiinc truths presented with direct earnestness cin do. . . . The
adoption of her sentiments would wholy chanj;e tlie atmosphere in m.my
a house to what it ouj;ht to be, and bring almost constant sunsh'ne and
bii's where now too ollcn are storm and misery." — Lawxnce {A',t»iat)

" In the little book r-*"'cd ' Hits of Talk,' by H. H., Messrs. Poberti
Brothers Jiave given to . .orld an uncommonly useful collection of
ess.iys, — u-cfu! cert.\in!y to all i>arents, and likely to do pood tn ail chil-
dren. Other ncople have doubtle-.s held as correct views on the subjects
treated here, tnonpli few have ever advanced them ; and none that we are
a.v.irc have made them so attractive as they are made by H. H 's criip
and sparkling style. No one oiwning the book, even thr u^li without rea-
son fir sj)ec;al interest in its tippit^, cou'd. alter a glimi^c .it its pajjas,
lay It down unread ; and its brii;lit and witty scintillations will fix many a
precept and establish many a fact ' Bits uf Talk ' is a book that oiif;lit
to have a place of honor in every househo d ; for it te.ichcs, not only the
true dignity cf |i.irent v.-e, but of chiidhond. As we rend it. we l.uiph and
cry with the author, and acknowieHxe that, since the child is lather of
tho m in. in beiti;; the cham;iion of childhood, she is the chamsiion of th«
who'.e corni;!!; rate, tlrrat is the rod, but If. H. is r.ot its prophet 1" —
M"! Harriet i'nscott Sfofford, in Xru'turyf^^ri flc-ralj.

Sold everywhere. Mailed, post-paid, by ihe pub-
Ushers,

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston.

SUTE FORMAL SIHUUL,

Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications.

DAILY STRENGTH FOR
DAILY NEEDS.

Selected by the Editor of "Quiet Hours."

i6mo. Cloth, Price Ji.oo ; white cloth, gilt, !Pi.25.
*

" Tliis little bcok is made up of selections from Scripture, and verses
ot poetry, and prose selections fur each day of the year. We turn wi:h
confidei.ce to any selections of this kind which Mrs. Tileston may make.
In her ' Quiet Hours,' ' Sunshine for the Soul,' ' The Blessed L.fc,' ai.d
other works, she has brought togeth-jr a large amount of rich devotional
material in a poetic form. Her present book does not disappoint us.
We hail with satisfaction every contribution to devotional literature
which shall be acceptable to liberal Christians. This selection is made
up from a wide range of authors, and there is an equally wide range of
topics. It is an excellent book for private devotion or for use at the
family altar." — Christian Register.

" It is made up of brief selections in prose and verse, with accompa-
nying texts of Scripture, for every day in the year, arranged by the editor
of Quiet Hours,' and or the purpose of bringing the reader to perform
tlie duties and to bear the burdens of each day with cheerfulness and
courage.' It is hardly necessary to say that the selection is admirably
made, and that the names one finds scattered through the volume suggest
the truest spiritual insight and aspiration. It is a book to have always
on one's table, and to make one's daily companion." — Christian Union.

"They are the words of those wise and he ly men, who, in all apes
have realized the full beauty of spiritual experience. They are words to
comfort, to encourage, to strengthen, and to uplift into faith and aspira-
tion. It is pleasant to think of the high and extended moral development
that were possible, if such a book were generally the dally companion and
counsellor of thinking men and women Every day of the year has itl
appropriate text and appropriate thoughts, all helping towards the best
life of the reader. Such a volume needs no appeal to gain attention lo
it." — Sunday Globe, Boston.

Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on
receipt of price, by the Publishers,

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Bosto*

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