about the train, because it was late, having been held up in the Pittsburgh yards by the "outlaw" strike.

For an industrious and eager worrier, no better combination of circumstances could be planned, and I made the most of it, doing some of the finest doublebarreled worrying I have ever done.

The one thing a lecturer must do is to arrive in time to keep his engagement, and I saw that if this train was much late I could not get to Detroit in time to catch the train for Grand Rapids. Then I would be too late to keep my engagement there that afternoon. I was thus able to worry lest I could not get to Grand Rapids in time and, also, because I might get there in time. I can't think of any much finer opportunity for a whole-souled worrier than I had right there, as I sat handsomely garbed in a hard-front white shirt and evening clothes at two o'clock in the morning in the Orrville station, the snores of the other transfer passengers beating regularly like the rumble of distant thunder.

Men who have given their souls to worrying and have made it, so to speak, a life work, are usually satisfied with a fifty-fifty worrying chance, but I had a hundred-per-cent worrying opportunity. I, therefore, felt my white bow tie to see that it was neat and tidy and gave my whole mind to the worrying job I had on hand. Eight new lines of care developed on my face and, in the silence between the snores of my fellow waiters, I could hear my few remaining brownish hairs turning gray with a sharp click.

NOW and then, I got up and looked at the clock.

On an average, I looked at the clock every fourteen seconds. Wellington, praying for night, or Blucher, at Waterloo, did not fret half as much as I did. Some day they can put a brass tablet in the Orrville station reading, "Here E. P. Butler spent fifty miserable years one night in April, 1920." I had plenty to worry about. If the train came in time to make my connection, it was baggy knees; if it did not come in time, it was a break in my lecture engagement. Nothing but the worst could happen either way.

The result-aside from the wear and tear on my mental machinery -was that Grand Rapids postponed my engagement, when I telegraphed, until the evening. Then I was able

to wear my evening trousers, and the lecture was a perfect success. I never looked handsomer or less baggy at the knees, and the lecture room was crowded.

And that is about all worry amounts to.

SINCE the time of old Menes K.

Ptsch, the astronomers have been discovering new comets every fifty years or so and letting fall idle hints that if the comet hits the earth

the Stock Exchange will close for several billion years and every life-insurance company go broke paying death losses, but no comet has yet lived up to any such specifications. The end of the world continues to be postponed indefinitely. The world and the worries have gone right on doing business at the old stand.

Foresight is one thing but worry is something else. Foresight is preparing sanely for some event that is reasonably liable to occur. Worry is throwing mental fits about something we can't prevent and that very likely will never happen anyway. Ordering my coal in the spring is foresight, but getting all worked up and disturbed because there is only enough unmined coal in the United States to last 7000 years is worry. Before 7000 years have fled into the past, someone may invent a furnace that will consume asparagus tips or cod liver oil, for all I know. Indeed, such a furnace may be invented in 2000 years or 3000

years.

And, anyway, I'll not be much interested in the fuel question 7000 years from now. In my day, I have worried about nearly everything, but I refuse to worry about the fuel supply of 8920 A. D. In 8920 A. D., my descendants may be Esquimaux and burn seal fat, or, Brazilians and bask in the solar heat. I certainly am a fool if I sit up all night in dress suit and white tie to worry about the fuel supply of 8920 A. D.

Or, about the fuel supply of 1961 A. D., either. I am now fifty years old and I figure that, if I avoid useless worry, I may possibly live forty years longer, which would bring my interesting career to a close in 1960. I shall not, therefore, worry about the coal that may not be in my bin in 1961. I am absolutely convinced that a man is foolish to worry over

the condition in which the interior of his coalbin may be twelve months after the floral pillow and the rosebeset anchor have wilted. He might better worry for fear his halo will be a 7% size when his head measures only 6% at its halo altitude. A man would look like

a guy, strutting around with a halo that slipped down over his ears and clung around his neck.

I have never heard of any one worrying about the fit of his halo, but there would be more sense in worrying about that than in worrying about most of the things we do worry about.

IAM glad to be able

to say that I do not worry over the condition of my coal-bin in 1961.

When it comes to that, my strong common sense steps in and tells me not to worry; but when I think of 1927, I am tempted to heave a deep sigh, wrinkle my brow and fret myself sick for, 1927, is but a short six years hence and there is every indication that the thermometer will fall below ninety degrees in the shade, that winter. Here, we have something worth worrying about.

Many things may happen.

In 1927 there may be a mine strike, a railroad strike and a coal-truck drivers' strike. There are over two thousand things that may happen in 1927 to keep my coal-bin empty.

It is even possible that my financial condition may be such that when I go to the telephone and ask my coal man to fill my bin he will give a loud, mocking laugh and stick out his tongue at me.

If I wished, I could convince myself that I had better begin worrying this afternoon and keep it up for the next six and one half years, but I don't wish. I refuse to so much as worry about my coal supply for 1921. I am not even worrying about my coal for 1920. It is now-as I write this early in the summer and, before I need coal, I may die of sun stroke and never need coal again. So, why worry? I shall proceed calmly on my way, merely pausing, now and then, to give my coal man Hail Columbia with a Bolshevik accent and a casual reference to my banker, and if the middle of winter comes and no coal is in my

bin I shall burn the player-piano rolls, beginning with "The Maple Leaf Rag."

Worry never pays, and it is one of the most costly pastimes. The hair-dye industry is largely supported by those whose hair has turned gray through worry

ing, and the world is full of gay young heirs who were able to break the speed laws in $7000 automobiles ten years earlier than they expected, because father, or uncle Henry, or Aunt Jane happened to have the worry habit.

I know a lot of people of about my age-and some much younger-who worry because they are growing old. I can't imagine a more senseless thing to worry about. If there is any one thing in the universe that cannot be prevented it is growing old. . The moment a baby opens its eyes at birth and squawks at the light, it begins to grow old; and but one thing can stop the process-it can die young. It continues to grow older so long as it lives. Worrying can't stop it; if anything hastens the process worry does. The only cure for growing old is dying young. This has been tried on Barred Rock chickens and red calves with white spots, and it works according to directions. The result is spring broilers and veal; but, while I have never asked a spring broiler, no veal chop has ever told me it was happier for not being permitted to become ribs of beef.

IT is a remarkable fact, but I have met very few men

or women who have worried about death-their own deaths-while I have met thousands who were worried by a fear of dying of some particular disease; and yet, I believe very few die of the particular disease of which they worry. A man will tell me that he has known for years that he has a weak heart. He has been worried for thirty years by the way his heart beats a few times, stops to roll over on the other side, and then leaps forward madly as if someone had put a foot on the accelerator by mistake. He will go on to say that the last thing he does at night and the first thing he does in the morning is to worry about his heart. He says the very first physician that examined him for life insurance and passed him, being a friend -told him his heart was peculiar and that, probably by the time he was forty he would be a dead man. Since then, every few years, another doctor had looked grave over the way his heart sparked, and warned him to prepare for the worst and give up the use of graham crackers, and apple sauce, and blueberry pie, or something of the sort.

"I'm always ready," he says, "for I know that when my end comes it will come suddenly. Click! and my heart will cease to beat. You cannot understand how awful such knowledge is. For forty years, day after day, I have expected the fatal moment, and I have not had a minute free from worry."

That man, after forty-five years of worry because he was to die of heart disease, went down into Missouri to buy a stone quarry, and was kicked to death by a mule! While a Missouri mule is a legally recognized form of sudden death, it has not yet been classed as heart disease. It comes under the head of dangerous explosives.

THERE is one statistical table the insurance com

panies have not yet prepared, and I wish they would get at it. I'd like to see it. It would show what causes of death their policy holders worried over and what finally killed them. In not one case in ten

All my life I have been one of the most consistent worriers and I have deserved to have my name in large type on page 1 of the "Worrier's Year Book," ever since I was old enough to take the good old rubber nipple between my gums and imbibe the good old milk. Looking back over my career of worrying, I believe I must have worried in my cradle. I probably worried because the bottle of milk I was consuming might be the last I would ever have; because the cradle might tip over and spill me under the stove; and because safety pins were not yet invented.

It is to be remarked that I did not get out of the cradle and hustle up more milk, or saw off the cradle rockers or invent the safety pin. It is not on record that worry ever led a man to do anything useful. To say so is like saying a man can prevent his house from burning to the ground by looking at an advertisement of a fire-insurance company. The full-fledged worrier is like a man who does not want his house to burn, because he loves his house, and, also, because it is not insured, and who happens on to a billboard with a fireextinguisher advertisement painted on it. He does not then, as foresight would suggest, go and buy fire extinguishers and have his house insured. No, he borrows a camp chair and plants himself before the fire-extinguisher billboard and sits there, day and night, making himself miserable and irritable thinking of his house in flames, his wife and children perishing miserably, of himself, perhaps, arrested, through some chain of circumstantial evidence for arson and murder. That is the worrier. That is the sanity of the mental processes.

When I was young, I used to worry about parties. I worried because I might arrive too early and because I might be too late and because my pockets were so

Another doctor looked grave over the way his heart sparked, and advised him to give up blueberry pie

inconveniently situated that I would be unable to get my feet into them when my feet became the cynosure of all eyes, as I was sure they would. I was always miserable for days before a party; and when I finally reached the party, I found I had wasted all that worry. Usually I had such a delightful time that some grown-up had to come to me and say gently, "You must remember, Ellis, that we are all trying to be little gentlemen and ladies here. Give Annie her hairbow this instant."

After I went home, the party-giving family held a consultation to decide whether the furniture could be mended or if a new set was necessary.

If you take a day off sometime, and check up your worries of the past year, or month, you will be surprised to see how few-probably not one-had any sane basis of fact. I wish I had a book in which I had written down, as they accrued, all the worriments that I let grab hold of me in the last twenty-five years. I wish I could have a glance at such a record left by you. If you are a first-class worrier, you have worried over the coming end of the world, death, bankruptcy, starvation, coal, what Johnnie will be when he grows up, the pain in your left leg, next month's bills, the slice in your drive, the Bolsheviks, whether you put out the cat, the state of your business affairs and several thousand other things that turned out right in the end. And the worrying you did had nothing whatever to do with bringing about a satisfactory state of things. It merely beclouded your intellect; put sand in your year

case.

(Continued on page 154)

ANY employers have not yet learned the

M psychology of discouragement. Instead

of praising their employees when they do well, they discourage them when they are not doing their best, or when they make a mistake. This is most depressing. Employees will not do their best under such conditions. Praise your employees when they work earnestly and well; show them that you appreciate them and their efforts. Most employees will do anything in the world to please a man when they find he has the right spirit and does not blame or scold them for every little slip-up or mistake.

You surely know yourself, Mr. Employer, how difficult it is for you to work under mental depression, under discouraging conditions, and yet you are much wiser, probably, than many of the people who work for you because you have had much greater experience. Employees, especially those who are not well educated or well trained are very susceptible to discouragement. They easily lose heart and say, "What's the use?" and their work shows the effect of their attitude.

more employers only knew the magic of praise and appreciation they could get very much better work in greater quantity from those in their employ. The secret is in right treatment, in kindness, in encouragement, appreciation and praise; in giving those who work for us a motive, in treating them fairly and squarely, and in trusting them.

Hope is the great leader of human beings. When hope is blotted out, when employees cannot see anything attractive in the future they are not going to give up their best in return. The motive is everything.

I

KNOW a manager of a large concern who is always discouraging employees under him who are trying to do a little better than usual. On one occasion, an employee, having tried especially hard to please him, called attention to his work, thinking he would surely say, "Well done, that's fine!" Instead, the man said, "Pshaw, boy, you ought to have done twice that much." This man is always dampening enthusiasm, in fact killing it, and as a result most of

the employees do just as little for him as they are obliged to do.

This is not the way to bring the best out of any one. If the man had said to the boy, "That's fine, my good fellow, keep it up," or something to that effect, it would have been a tonic to him and have encouraged him greatly. Instead of that he discouraged him from trying to to do better.

B

E loyal to your employees and they will be loyal to you. If you are mean with them, they will be mean with you. That is the law. Like attracts like everywhere; you will bring out of your employees the qualities to which you appeal. They will see through your motives very quickly; they will know whether you are driving a hard bargain with them, a selfish, greedy, grasping bargain. They know whether you sympathize with them or whether you do not care. They know whether it is a cold-blooded business proposition with you, or whether there is a real man on your side of the contract and that you are trying to be fair and square with them, to look out for their interests as well as your own.

A word of appreciation and encouragement may mean much to a disheartened soul, not only in the office or shop but in the home and elsewhere.

WHE

HEN your wife, Mr. Business Man, makes a special effort to please you, to have things nice and comfortable when you reach home at night, tell her you appreciate her efforts. Don't take things for granted. Praise and appreciation will go a long way with your wife as well as with your business associates.

When your husband, Mrs. Busy Housewife, works hard to provide you with the comforts of life, show him you appreciate his efforts even if he is not able to give you an automobile.

When your mother, Miss Fun-Loving Daughter, is making all sorts of sacrifices for you, doing without many little comforts, staying at home so you can go out, giving up her little pleasures so you can enjoy more, tell her that you appreciate her sacrifice; that it is dear and sweet of her, and try to repay her. Tell her so, some

times, without words. Give her something for her personal use which you know she will enjoy.

If a servant is trying hard to please you, to do her work unusually well, and is kind, pleasant and agreeable, do not discourage her by finding fault if any little thing goes wrong; this is not the way to get the best out of any one. Blame, scolding, nagging are tremendous depressents.

When a clerk takes unusual pains to wait on you, to please you, don't be afraid of letting him know that you appreciate his efforts. When a bootblack tries to give you an unusually good

polish or brush off, show that you appreciate it. Tell him so. When a waiter is trying very hard to serve you quickly and well let him see you appreciate his good work. When a porter in a hotel takes special pains to wait upon you, to carry your heavy luggage, a mere tip is not enough, accompany it with a smile and word of appreciation.

In thus giving cheer and encouragement you will find that you are not only helping others but you are bringing greater happiness and satisfaction into your own life.

W

HEN everybody will know that selfishness always defeats itself.

When to get rich by making others poorer or injuring their getting-on-chance will be considered a disgrace.

When the Golden Rule will be regarded as the soundest business philosophy.

When the same standard of morality will be demanded of men as of women.

When all true happiness will be found in doing the right.

When the business man will know that his best interests will be the best interests of the man at the other end of the bargain.

When all hatred, revenge, and jealousy will be regarded as boomerangs which inflict upon the thrower the injury intended for others.

When a man who seeks amusement by causing pain or taking the life of innocent dumb creatures will be considered a barbarian.

When every man will be his own physician, and will carry his own remedy with him-when mind, not medicine, will be the great panacea.

When men will realize that there can be no real pleasure in wrongdoing because the sting and pain that follow more than outweigh the apparent pleasure.

When it will be found that repression and punishment are not reformative, and our prisons will be transformed into great man-building and womanbuilding institutions.

When it will be found that physical and chemical forces were intended to release man from physical drudgery, and emancipation from the burden of living-getting, so that he can make a life.

When no man will be allowed to say that the world owes him a living, since the world owes him nothing that he should not pay for. It owes a living only to cripples, invalids, children and all others who can not help themselves.

When the "grafter" and promoter who fatten upon an unsuspecting public, wear purple and fine linen and live in luxury, will be meted out the same measure of justice as the vulgar footpad receives who knocks a man down and picks his pockets.

When the "best society" will consist of men and women of brains, culture, and achievement, rather than those whose chief merit and distinction lie in the possession of unearned fortunes which they make it the business of their lives to squander.

When a man will be ashamed to harbor such an unworthy ambition as the accumulation of an unwieldy fortune, merely for the sake of being rich; when no woman will live simply to dress and waste her time in a round of idiotic and exhausting pleasures, or what she has hypnotized herself into believing are pleasures.

When the human drone who eats the bread and wears the clothes he has never earned, who consumes the products of others' struggles and triumphs, who lives in luxury by the sweat of others' brows and on others' sacrifices and ruined ambitions, will be looked upon as an enemy of the race and will be ostracized by all decent people.

THE

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