CHAPTER VII.

"Some of the dives and variety theaters are the nurseries of vice and crime, where drunkenness is encouraged, our youth demoralized, the unwary roped in and robbed, and crimes committed which the authorities are unable to prevent or discover. There is, of course, a broad distinction to be noted between those places of public resort where the demand for distilled, fermented, and malt liquors is supplied in a legitimate manner, and the entertainment provided, if any, is not of an objectionable character, and those places where salacious performances are presented as an attraction, and lewd women, under the guise of waitresses to serve liquors, pursue a shameful vocation. These evils may be partly remedied if respectable citizens will refuse to rent their property for such uses, and also refuse to assist in obtaining licenses whereby such headquarters for drunkenness, lewdness, and crime are in a measure entrenched behind existing general laws.

"The so-called 'social evil' is aggressive on our thoroughfares, and should be restrained by the authorities within narrower limits."

But we add our interpretation and our suggestions for these twin evils which stalk up and down the earth and apparently defy control.

The minister treats lightly upon the liquor traffic, in many instances because certain of his church members either sell it at wholesale, retail, or furnish the barley, corn, grapes, hops, or rent to the man who does. The editors of all newspapers of general circulation must treat the subject likewise, for fear of his advertising patrons. His readers are never taken into account, for the simple reason that circulation alone does not pay newspapers issued daily, and very few that are issued weekly. It will be seen by the above report that the grand jurymen too have vital interests at stake. In order to keep their respective businesses from being boycotted by their fellow-merchants, they handle the subject with soft gloves, as if it were eggs, and the "social evil" by this same jury is done up in nineteen words. But they have indicated a great deal in those few words, namely, that such an evil does exist—something the different church organizations have refused to acknowledge.

High license, with personal responsibility for results, under a sufficient bond, will in time remedy the liquor traffic.

The social evil should be licensed, and under the perfect control of the police—and not the police under its control, as seems to be the case in this city. Are they not under pay to look the other way? Its boundaries should be exact, isolated, and under the direct supervision of the health department. Is there any justice in demanding a license of a milliner, or on any other mercantile pursuit that a female may see fit to adopt, while 5,000 of these questionable women go untaxed, because you do not dare to acknowledge that their calling exists? To ask the question is to answer it—No!! Let no one think that in any way whatever we would seem to unduly countenance, or in the least encourage, this evil. But we do believe in recognizing absolute facts. They cannot be overlooked. It is surprising that, amidst all this widespread discussion of intemperance, no more has been said on this social problem. As long as men are mortal, this condition of relations will exist—it has existed through all time—but it is possible to limit it, to heavily license it, and keep it within proper bounds.

Then by all means should churches and various kinds of societies exert their influence to the legal recognition of the true status, and benefit the general condition of mankind. Boards of supervisors, aldermen, etc., are clothed with power to accomplish the ends suggested, if they are only backed by public sentiment.

If the Catholic Church organization alone will inaugurate a general agitation over the country, as they have already indicated and begun in their convention at Baltimore, on the liquor traffic, they will either break it up or put it under control; for 60% of this business is carried on by their following.

Public urinals are greater necessities than public fountains in cities and large towns. The alarming increase of diabetes and kidney troubles in cities during the last few years, while remaining normal, or actually decreasing in the rural districts, has led to the belief that the prolonged detention of the urine is the principal, and, in most cases, the only cause of this terrible malady. The foregoing facts recapitulated exhibit a few of the ills of mankind that are in the power of municipal officials to alleviate. The duties of the general government cover all of the above, and include the prevention of all criminals and paupers of every nation from landing on our shores; the compulsory education of all citizens old and young—as it is cheaper to educate than to punish criminals; to furnish employment upon all useful and needed public works for the worthy, willing poor, and cause to be distributed with equity to the deserving, all the earnings of the criminal institutions of the country, over and above their actual expenses.

It will not be out of place to complete this chapter with a few words on the necessity of giving man and beast one day in seven to rest. Sunday seems to be the preferable one, but to compel the observance of one particular day in each week for all classes and sects would be tyrannical. The majority of religious societies employ Sunday for worship and rest, but, throwing aside the moral and religious bearing, every human being would be healthier, happier, and live longer, if he rested one day in the week. We all live too fast. Though we enjoy laziness at times, yet we are too anxious to get riches or fame earlier than we ought or can. A man may work so mightily that he will be very wealthy at 40 instead of 50, but he will die at 70 instead of 80. Better prolong life by reserving forces for the future.

CHAPTER VIII.

Sanitary House.—It should stand facing the sun, on dry soil, in a wide, clean, amply-sewered, substantially-paved street, over a deep, thoroughly ventilated and lighted cellar. The floor of the cellar should be cemented, the walls and ceilings plastered and thickly whitewashed with lime every year, that the house may not act as a chimney to draw up into its chambers micro-organisms from the earth. If your lot is situated so that you cannot face your house either east or south, construct the rooms in such a way that your parlors and sleeping apartments will receive the sun at least 3 hours during the day. All windows should extend from floor to ceiling, adjusted to let down from the top, and in position to secure as much as possible of the through currents of air. The outside walls, if of wood or brick, should be kept thickly painted, not to shut out penetrating air, but for the sake of dryness. All inside walls should be plastered smooth, painted, and, however unaesthetic, varnished. Mantels should be of marble, plate, iron, or, if wood, plain, and, whether natural, painted, or stained, varnished.

Interior wood-work, including floors, should all show plain surfaces and be likewise treated. No paper on the walls, no carpets on the floors, but movable rugs, which can be shaken daily in the open air—not at doors or out of windows, where dust is blown back into rooms—should cover the floors. White linen shades, which will soon show the necessity of washing, should protect the windows. All furniture should be plain, with cane seats, without upholstery. Mattresses should be covered with oiled silk. Blankets, sheets, and spreads—no comforts or quilts—should constitute the bedding.

Of plumbing there should be as little as is necessary, and all there is must be exposed.

The inhabited rooms should be heated only with open fires, the cellar and halls by radiated heat, or, better, by a hot-air furnace, which shall take its fresh air from above the top of the house and not from the cellar itself or the surface of the earth, where micro-organisms most abound. Let there be no annual house cleaning, but keep it clean all the time, and have it gone through thoroughly at least four times per year.

Of course a corner lot is always preferable, but how often it is supposed that the benefit consists alone in a commanding position, in a chance for architectural display, when the greatest boon is the increased opportunity for sunlight. The atmosphere of a room where the sun never shines is never agreeable or healthful. Science has taught us that the sun is the source of all life. It will effect more than tons of disinfectants and chemicals to purge and sweeten the air of a house. Let the building be exposed to the south, and keep shade trees from checking the sun too much. Verandas and broad piazzas often do as much harm as they give pleasure—especially if they are all covered with vines. Be more careful about plumbing than people are wont to be. Do not practice economy by trying to cut down plumbing bills. When a contractor agrees to erect a house, either withhold this part from him or see that he employs the most skilled labor. Ventilation cannot be slighted, for upon it health greatly depends. If you can in any way afford it, use incandescent electric light instead of gas or oil. The reason is a powerful one. An ordinary gas jet destroys as much pure air and oxygen as five men—a good-sized oil lamp equal to three men. Add to this the heat that comes from such methods, and we see the strong advantage of the incandescent electric light. This vitiates no air, gives off no perceptible heat. Though there are stories that electric lights injure the eyes, from careful observation we find that it hurts the eyes of the majority no more than any artificial light.

The Sanitary News urges people not to paper or paint the interior walls of houses. Arsenical poisons are used in coloring wall paper. Mold collects in flour paste used in fastening paper to walls, absorbing moisture and germs of disease. Glue also disintegrates, so that any friction removes small particles, to which germs attach and float in the air. Undecorated walls, ugly as they are, the News insists are the only healthy ones to live within.

Dr. Cushing, of this city, thus ends his lecture on "Healthful Houses":—

"The essentials then of good house building are, first, a dry soil, a good foundation, exposure to the sun, and, next, good plumbing by reputable men at whatever cost necessary for first-class work, warming and ventilating by open grates rather than by steam heaters and stoves, clean floors and clean walls; and now, if there be no decomposition of animal or vegetable matter allowed in the immediate vicinity of the house, we shall have done the best that the present state of science will permit toward making our houses healthful."

The Hotel Del Monte is the only perfectly clean hotel in America. It is located at Monterey, Cal., not over a quarter of a mile from the ocean. The prevailing winds are from the sea and would naturally blow over the sands towards the house. Now the cause of dirt has virtually been killed by the planting of trees, brush, and by the laying of asphaltum walks and sod-ground drives on this windward side. The only dirt is that which is brought there by travelers—this is easily kept down. The moral is here: If possible prevent dust and dirt by stopping the cause.

CHAPTER IX.

"Don't direct special mental or physical energies to more than eight hours' work in each day.

"Don't neglect to have your dentist examine your teeth at least every three months.

"Don't read, write, or do any delicate work unless receiving the light from the left side.

"Don't pamper the appetite with such variety of food that may lead to excess.

"Don't read in street-cars or other jolting vehicles.

"Don't eat or drink hot and cold things immediately in succession.

"Don't pick the teeth with pins or any other hard substance.

"Don't sleep in a room provided with stationary washstands.

"Don't neglect any opportunity to insure a variety of food."

There are many things we should never do. Among them are:—

"Never go to bed with cold or damp feet.

"Never lean with the back upon anything that is cold.

"Never begin a journey until the breakfast has been eaten.

"Never take warm drinks and then immediately go out in the cold.

"Never ride in an open carriage or near the window of a car for a moment after exercise; it is dangerous to health or even life.

"Never omit regular bathing, for unless the skin is in regular condition the cold will close the pores and favor congestion or other diseases.

"Never stand still in cold weather, especially after having taken a slight degree of exercise."

Perhaps among the following you may find succinctly stated what will be of eminent value:—

"Focus your brain as you would a burning-glass. Butter enough for a slice won't do for a whole loaf.

"Keep empty-headed between times. Mental furniture should be very select. Useless lumber in the upper story is worse than a pocketful of oyster shells. Leave your facts on your book shelves, where you can find them when wanted. A walking encyclopedia cannot work for want of room to turn round in his own head.

"Don't tax your memory. Make a memorandum, and put it in your pocket. Every unnecessary thought is a waste of effective force.

"Don't believe that muscular exercise contracts head work. Brain and muscle are bung-hole and spigot of the same barrel. It is poor economy to keep both running.

"Pin your faith to the genius of hard work. It is the safest, most reliable, and most manageable sort of genius.

"Amuse yourself. This is the first principle of good hard work. And the second is like unto it.

"Don't work too much. It is quantity, not quality, that kills. Therefore, work only in the day-time. Night was made for sleep. And loaf on Sunday. Six days' work earns the right to go a-fishing, or to church, or to any harmless diversion, on the seventh.

"Go to work promptly, but slowly. A late, hurried start keeps you out of breath all day trying to catch up.

"When you stop work forget it. It spoils brains to simmer after a hard boil.

"Feed regularly, largely, and slowly. Lose no meal; approach it respectfully and give it gratefully. No more can be got out of a man than is put into him.

"Sleep one-third of your whole life. How I hate the moralist who croaks over time wasted in sleep. Besides, sleep is, on the whole, the most satisfactory mode of existence."

Misconceivements.—"There are a number of mistakes made even by wise people while passing through life. Prominent among them is the idea that you must labor when you are not in a fit condition to do so; to think that the more a person eats the healthier and stronger he will become; to go to bed at midnight and rise at daybreak, and imagine that every hour taken from sleep is an hour gained; to imagine that, if a little work or exercise is good, violent and prolonged exercise is better; to conclude that the smallest room in the house is large enough to sleep in; to eat as if you had only a moment to finish a meal in, or to eat without any appetite, or to continue after it has been satisfied, merely to please the taste; to believe that children can do as much work as grown people, and that the more hours they study the more they learn; to imagine that whatever remedy causes one to feel immediately better (as alcoholic stimulants) is good for the system, without regard to the after-effects; to take off proper clothing out of season because you have become heated; to sleep exposed to a direct draught; to think any nostrum or patent medicine is a specific for all the diseases flesh is heir to."

Weariness.—"A tramp knows what it is to be leg-weary, a farm laborer to be body-weary, a literary man to be brain-weary, and a sorrowing man to be soul-weary. The sick are often weary of life itself. Weariness is generally a physiological 'ebb-tide,' which time and patience will convert into a 'flow'. It is never well to whip or spur a worn-out horse, except in the direst straits. If he mends his pace in obedience to the stimulus, every step is a drop drawn from his life-blood. Idleness is not one of the faults of the present age; weariness is one of the commonest experiences. The checks that many a man draws on his physiological resources are innumerable; and, as these resources are strictly limited, like any other ordinary banking account, it is very easy to bring about a balance on the wrong side. Adequate rest is one kind of repayment to the bank, sound sleep is another, regular eating and good digestion another. One day's holiday in the week and one or two months in the year for those who work exceptionally hard usually bring the credit balance to a highly favorable condition; and thus with care and management physiological solvency is secured and maintained."

"What Produces Death.—Someone says that few men die of age. Almost all persons die of disappointment, personal, mental, or bodily toil, or accident. The passions kill men sometimes even suddenly. The common expression, 'choked with passion,' has little exaggeration in it, for even though not suddenly fatal, strong passions shorten life. Strong-bodied men often die young; weak men live longer than the strong, for the strong use their strength and the weak have none to use. The latter take care of themselves, the former do not. As it is with the body, so it is with the mind and temper. The strong are apt to break, or, like the candle, run; the weak burn out. The inferior animals, which live temperate lives, have generally their prescribed term of years. The horse lives 25 years, the ox 15 or 20, the lion about 20, the hog 10 or 12, the rabbit 8, the guinea-pig 6 or 7. The numbers all bear proportion to the time the animal takes to grow to its full size. But man, of all animals, is one that seldom comes up to the average. He ought to live a hundred years, according to the physiological law, for five times 20 are 100; but instead of that he scarcely reaches an average of four times the growing period. The reason is obvious—man is not only the most irregular and most intemperate, but the most laborious and hard-working of all animals. He is always the most irritable of all animals, and there is reason to believe, though we cannot tell what an animal secretly feels, that more than any other animal man cherishes wrath to keep it warm, and consumes himself with the fire of his own reflections."

Provided you have babies in your family go through the following and see if you can't train your child so it shall be among the last seventeen mentioned:—

"Take your pencil and follow me, while we figure on what will happen to the 1,000,000 of babies that will have been born in the last 1,000,000 seconds.

"I believe that is about the average—'one every time the clock ticks.'

"One year hence, if statistics don't belie us, we will have lost 150,000 of these little 'prides of the household.'

"A year later 53,000 more will be keeping company with those that have gone before.

"At the end of the third year we find that 22,000 more have dropped by the wayside.

"The fourth year they have become rugged little darlings, not nearly so susceptible to infantile diseases, only 8,000 having succumbed to the rigors imposed by the master.

"By the time they have arrived at the age of twelve years but a paltry few hundred leave the track each year.

"After threescore years have come and gone we find less trouble in counting the army with which we started in the fall of 1889.

"Of the 1,000,000 with which we began our count, but 370,000 remain; 630,000 have gone the way of all the world, and the remaining few have forgotten that they ever existed. At the end of eighty, or, taking our mode of reckoning, by the year 1969 a. d., there are still 97,000 gray-haired, shaky old grannies and grandfathers, toothless, hairless, and happy.

"In the year 1984 our 1,000,000 babies with which we started in 1889 will have dwindled to an insignificant 223 helpless old wrecks, 'stranded on the shores of time.'

"In 1992 all but seventeen have left this mundane sphere forever, while the last remaining wreck will probably, in seeming thoughtlessness, watch the sands filter through the hour-glass of time, and die in the year 1997 at the age of one hundred and eight.

"What a bounteous supply of food for reflection!"

"Laughter as a Health Promoter.—In his 'Problem of Health,' Dr. Greene says that there is not the remotest corner or little inlet of the minute blood-vessels of the human body that does not feel some wavelet from the convulsions occasioned by good hearty laughter. The life principle, or the central man, is shaken to its innermost depths, sending new tides of life and strength to the surface, thus materially tending to insure good health to the persons who indulge therein. The blood moves more rapidly and conveys a different impression to all the organs of the body, as it visits them on that particular mystic journey when the man is laughing, from what it does at other times. For this reason every good hearty laugh in which a person indulges tends to lengthen his life, conveying, as it does, new and distinct stimulus to the vital forces."

CHAPTER X.

As for surgical operations, in a German paper are particulars of a case in which the eye of a man was thrust out of its socket by a parasite cyst in the rear, discovered by surgical exploration and extracted. From a 5-year old boy an injured kidney was removed successfully and the patient recovered. The bridge of the nose was completely restored by using the breast-bone of a chicken and stretching the flesh of the old nose over it.

Even the part of a destroyed nerve of the arm was restored by the substitution of a part of a sound nerve from an amputated limb, so that the continuity was restored and sensation returned in 36 hours! Prematurely-born children are kept in an artificial mother, which consists of a glass case warmed by bowls of water. A new opiate has been discovered called the sulsonal. It produces sleep in nervous people and those affected with heart disease, but not in healthy subjects. The idea that sufferers from heart disease should avoid physical exertion has been dispelled by a noted physiologist who has successfully employed regulated exercise.

Brown-Séquard has brought out his great Vital Fluid. He is reported as saying: "I never made use of the word 'elixir,' still less of the words 'elixir of life.' These are all expressions or inventions of sensational newspapers. If quacks or ignorant men in America have killed people, as stated by the New York papers, they would have avoided committing those murders had they paid the least attention to the most elementary rules as regards the subcutaneous injection of animal substances. Injections of animal matter have no danger, as a rule, unless the substances begin to be decomposed. When this condition of things exists, no good can be obtained, and there is grave danger of inflammation, abscesses, and even death."

"Professor Brown-Séquard is reported to have lately informed the French Academy of Sciences that, by condensing the watery vapor coming from the human lungs, he obtained a poisonous liquid capable of producing almost immediate death. The poison is an alkaloid (organic), and not a microbe or series of microbes. He injected this liquid under the skin of a rabbit and the effect was speedily mortal without convulsions. Dr. Séquard said it was fully proved that respired air contains a volatile element far more dangerous than the carbonic acid which is one of its constituents, and that the human breath contains a highly poisonous agent. This startling fact should be borne in mind by the occupants of crowded horse-cars and ill-ventilated apartments."

"A very curious geographical distribution of certain virtues and vices has been mooted by a scientist. Intemperance is mostly found above latitude 48°, amatory aberrations south of the forty-fifth, financial extravagance in large seaports, industrial thrift, in pastoral highland regions."

"Advance in Hygienic Clothing.—The new cellular clothing now coming into use in England is said to be a success. It is woven out of the same materials as the common weaves of cloth, being simply, as its name indicates, closely woven into cells, the network of which is covered over with a thin fluff. Its porous quality allows the slow passing of the outside and inside air, giving time for the outside air to become of the same temperature as the body, obviating all danger of catching colds, and allowing vapors constantly exhaled by the body to pass off, thus contributing toward health and cleanliness. The common objection to cotton clothing—that it is productive of chills and colds—is removed if woven in this manner, and the invention can certainly be said to be strictly in accordance with hygienic and scientific principles."

The annual death rate, in 1888, for the principal cities of the world, per 1,000 inhabitants, was: San Francisco, Cleveland, Stockholm, 17; Bristol, Dresden, 18; Chicago, Cincinnati, Edinburgh, London, Turin, 19; Berlin, Baltimore, Brussels, Buffalo, Liverpool, Philadelphia, Pittsburg, 20; Brooklyn, St. Louis, Tokyo, 21; Amsterdam, Christiana, Paris, Washington, 22; Glasgow, 23; Copenhagen, 24; Bombay, Boston, New Orleans, Pesth, Venice, Vienna, 25; Breslau, Calcutta, Manchester, New York, Prague, Rotterdam, 26; Dublin, 27; Rome, 28; Hamburg, Munich, 29; Trieste, 30; Buda Pesth, St. Petersburg, 32; Alexandria, 38; Madras, 40; and Cairo, 51.

The death rate among the poor and rich respectively varies much. In Paris the death rate per 1,000 inhabitants between 40 and 50 years in easy circumstances was 8.3 against 18.7 among the poor. In London are some districts of the wealthy classes where the rate was 11.3 against 38 in the slums. The mean age at death among the gentry was 55 years, while among the workers it was 20-1/2 years. It was found that only 8% of the children of the upper classes died in their first year against 19% in the general population of Liverpool and 33% in the slums of that city. Deaths from consumption were nearly one-fourth of all deaths among the poor, and only one-eighteenth among the rich.

The above facts and figures cannot fail to set every intelligent person who reads them to thinking of this great health problem.

HAPPINESS.

CHAPTER XI.

"It is easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is one who will smile
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth
Is the smile that shines through tears.

"It is easy enough to be prudent
When nothing tempts you to stray,
When without or within no voice of sin
Is luring your soul away.
But it's only a negative virtue
Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honor of earth
Is the one that resists desire.

"By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
Who had no strength for the strife,
The world's highway is cumbered to-day,
They make up the item of life,
But the virtue that conquers passion,
And the sorrow that hides in a smile,
It is these that are worth the homage of earth,
For we find them but once in a while."
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

We possess none of the attributes save in a degree only, any one of which can be intensified, brightened, or benefited by our thoughts and actions. The shortest road to happiness, after having cleansed your body, actions, and thoughts, is to "do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, to all living creatures you can, just as long as you can." The more unselfish you become, the less you think of personal comfort, and the more pleasure you take in the comforts of others, the deeper and broader will the fountains of your own happiness become. There is no class of people who have equal happiness or bliss pictured upon their countenances to those who practice and teach the universal brotherhood of man without regard to race, creed, sex, caste, or color.

Happiness is like manna. It is to be "gathered in grains and enjoyed every day; it will not keep; it cannot be accumulated; nor need we go out of ourselves nor into remote places to gather it, since it is rained down from heaven at our very doors, or, rather, within them."

George Macdonald says: "A man must not choose his neighbor; he must take the neighbor that God sends him. In him, whoever he be, lies hidden or revealed a beautiful brother. Any rough-hewn semblance of humanity will at length be enough to move the man to reverence and affection."

And there is a still more extensive love, urges Charles Mackay:—

"You love your fellow-creatures? So do I,—
But underneath the wide paternal sky
Are there no fellow-creatures in your ken
That you can love except your fellow-men?
Are not the grass, the flowers, the trees, the birds,
The faithful beasts, true-hearted, without words,
Your fellows also, howsoever small?
He's the best lover who can love them all."

There are certain principles that lead to positive happiness. One of these is the avoiding of mistakes. "What have been termed 'the fourteen mistakes of life' are given as follows: It is a great mistake to set up our own standard of right and wrong and judge people accordingly; to measure the enjoyment of others by our own; to expect uniformity of opinion in this world; to look for judgment and experience in youth; to endeavor to mould all dispositions alike; not to yield to immaterial trifles; to look for perfection in our own actions; to worry ourselves and others with what cannot be remedied; not to alleviate all that needs alleviation as far as lies in our power; not to make allowances for the infirmities of others; to consider everything impossible that we cannot perform; to believe only what our finite minds can grasp; to expect to be able to understand everything. The greatest of mistakes is to live for time alone when any moment may launch us into eternity."

Ignorance is a state of happiness that many fairly intellectual people cite as well worthy of emulation; but those who assert it have not understood, or attempted to fathom, how shallow is this lake of knownothingness called "ignorance." Only a slight ripple can be seen on the bosom of a shallow lake during the most fearful storm, yet but a slight zephyr is needed to show the white caps upon the grand old ocean, and at the least provocation of a storm "see how she causes the continents to tremble, showing her great depth and majesty." If in the presence of this happy, ignorant personage, we place the most beautiful piece of statuary or painting, or produce the most startling of Shakespeare's plays, with the best living talent, or have the most gifted vocalist sing the most difficult aria, or have a panorama of the pyramid Jeezeh, Eiffel Tower, Washington Monument, Philadelphia City Hall, Cologne Cathedral, all actual size, and such of nature's grandest views as the Yosemite Fall, and Father of the Forest, we would look upon this happy individual and listen in breathless silence for his opinion. Well, what of it? what is to prevent it? would be the reply. But note the difference even in a cultured child; see the gentle cheek turn from pale pink to livid carmine, the heart pant, the bosom heave, and the whole form, for the time being, feel itself suspended in the air. To the above picture, add cultured, ripe old age, and the enjoyment, ecstasy, and pure happiness that would follow could only be measured by the difference between where we stand and the end of space!

Prerequisites in the begetting of wisdom are, first, you must be regular in everything you do, act, or think. This will give you health. Second, you must be regular, cleanly, temperate, and moral. This will start you on the road to happiness. Third, in addition to the first and second propositions, you must exercise self-control in all its aspects if you would have health, be happy, and live to excessive old age, before the culmination of which you will possess wisdom of no ordinary character.

Let the legend that "man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn," cease, and in its place have, "The universal brotherhood of man removes the shackles of inhumanity, replacing them by bands of love." This will elevate the trend of human thought, and every zephyr of human intellect will gather and multiply until a cyclone of happiness envelopes the earth; like love it will seem but a soothing breeze to the human heart, so gentle will fall its benign influences.

This brings us to the point where every person is led to look to each of the four points of the compass and there exclaim, "Who or what is God?" This is the first thing upon which intelligent beings should render a decision; mankind can only approximate happiness until they have settled in their own mind this point. It is not imperative that your decision should cover all the truth or the only truth in regard to Deity, but it should preclude all doubt on the part of the person so deciding. There is just as much inconsistency in the statement that we know who and what is God in his physical proportions, just where He or It resides, and just what relation It or He holds toward the human monad, man, as there is in the assertion, "There is no God."

There is no harm, however, in asserting our belief in one God, the Trinity, or a great First Cause. If we believe it and shape our lives accordingly, true light will be given sufficient to satisfy each searcher after the Truth; and he or they will advance to some other belief just when it is necessary. The exultant Methodist receives his light in one form, and the quiet Quaker in another. The devout Catholic represents still another type of ritualistic form, and the Wisdom Religionist (Theosophist) seems to get his from Nature, and finds some good in everything. With the 1,100 other different kinds of faith, there should be no complaint on our part of a variety from which to choose.

We offer not as anything new, but as something possibly forgotten, the following formulæ for obtaining happiness, viz.: (1) The carrying out in our lives and actions the Golden Rule; (2) total unselfishness as regards self; (3) trying to excel all others in doing what the world calls good; (4) condemning no one until we have heard both sides of the question in dispute; (5) having the same tender compassion for all the lower animals that you exercise towards the human family; (6) following out consistently some religious belief, and, until you are convinced of a better one, defending it; (7) above all other things, having charity for every person's short-comings and belief. Add to these a few intrinsic principles: (1) Happiness is no other than soundness and perfection of mind; (2) there are two ways of being happy—we may either diminish our wants or augment our means—either will do, the result is the same; and it is for each man to decide for himself, and do that which happens to be the easiest; (3) happiness is a road-side flower growing on the highways of usefulness; (4) carry the radiance of your soul in your face; let the world have the benefit of it; (5) learn the lesson embodied in this little poem:—

THE TWO WORKERS.

"Two workers in one field
Toiled on from day to day,
Both had the same hard labor,
Both had the same small pay;
With the same blue sky above,
The same green grass below,
One soul was full of love,
The other full of woe.

"One leaped up with the light,
With the soaring of the lark;
One felt it ever night,
For his soul was ever dark.
One heart was hard as stone,
One heart was ever gay;
One worked with many a groan,
One whistled all the day.

"One had a flower-clad cot
Beside a merry mill;
Wife and children near the spot
Made it sweeter, fairer still.
One a wretched hovel had,
Full of discord, dirt, and din,
No wonder he seemed mad,
Wife and children starved within.

"Still they worked in the same field,
Toiled on from day to day,
Both had the same hard labor,
Both had the same small pay;
But they worked not with one will:
The reason let me tell—
Lo! the one drank at the still,
And the other at the well."

(6) Embody in your lives the better idea of this poem, "Where Do You Live," by Josephine Pollard:—

"I knew a man, and his name was Horner,
Who used to live on Grumble Corner:
Grumble Corner, in Cross-Patch Town,
And he was never seen without a frown.
He grumbled at this; he grumbled at that;
He growled at the dog; he growled at the cat;
He grumbled at morning; he grumbled at night;
And to grumble and growl were his chief delight.

"He grumbled so much at his wife that she
Began to grumble as well as he;
And all the children, wherever they went,
Reflected their parents' discontent.
If the sky was dark and betokened rain,
Then Mr. Horner was sure to complain;
And, if there was never a cloud about,
He'd grumble because of a threatened drought.

"His meals were never to suit his taste;
He grumbled at having to eat in haste;
The bread was poor, or the meat was tough,
Or else he hadn't had half enough.
No matter how hard his wife might try
To please her husband, with scornful eye
He'd look around, and then, with a scowl
At something or other, begin to growl.

"One day, as I loitered about the street,
My old acquaintance I chanced to meet,
Whose face was without the look of care
And the ugly frown which it used to wear.
'I may be mistaken, perhaps,' I said,
As, after saluting, I turned my head;
'But it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Horner
Who lived for so long on Grumble Corner!'

"I met him next day; and I met him again,
In melting weather, and pouring rain,
When stocks were up and when stocks were down;
But a smile somehow had replaced the frown.
It puzzled me much; and so one day
I seized his hand in a friendly way,
And said: 'Mr. Horner, I'd like to know
What can have happened to change you so?'

"He laughed a laugh that was good to hear,
For it told of a conscience calm and clear,
And he said, with none of the old-time drawl,
'Why, I've changed my residence, that is all!'
'Changed your residence?' 'Yes,' said Horner,
'It wasn't healthy on Grumble Corner,
And so I moved; 'twas a change complete;
And you'll find me now on Thanksgiving Street!'

"Now, every day as I move along
The streets so filled with the busy throng,
I watch each face and can always tell
Where men and women and children dwell;
And many a discontented mourner
Is spending his days on Grumble Corner,
Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat
To take a house on Thanksgiving Street."

CHAPTER XII.

Aids to Morality.—"Many imagine that the only ways in which public and private morality can be improved," says the Philadelphia Ledger, "are those definite and direct methods which appeal at once to the conscience and the heart. Preaching and teaching, persuading and warning, exhorting and encouraging, are instrumentalities worthy of all honor, and those whose abilities qualify them for such tasks should receive every possible stimulus to exert them in so noble a cause. But it is a great mistake to suppose that these are the only means to promote morality. Every truly civilizing influence is also a reforming one. By this we do not mean that miscalled civilization which multiplies wants, and increases luxury and develops refinement in a few, at the expense of the many, but that advancement of mind and of knowledge, which is forever disclosing better methods of living and diffusing them among the whole people. Dr. Howard Crosby, president of the Society for the Prevention of Crime, in New York, and who has had wide opportunities of observing the condition of morality in that city, has recently declared that the moral condition of New York has vastly improved during the past few years, and that fifty years ago, although there was far less of the foreign element than there is now, a low condition of morality existed that would not be tolerated at the present time. What is true of New York in this respect is equally true of our other cities, and if there be any pessimist who points to the well-known corruptions and vices which still exist as a refutation of this statement, we would remind him that the very fact that such things are now brought to the light, discussed, and condemned, is a proof that they are on the decline. When a community is deeply sunk in immorality, little or no comment is made on the fact. When we come to seek into the causes of this improvement, we shall find that among the most prominent are the practical results of scientific progress and the civilizing tendencies of the age. There is no question that dirt, disease, and darkness are prevalent sources of vice and crime, and whatever influences are brought to bear against them will also press heavily against immorality. The increasing value set upon health, as shown alike in sanitary laws and regulations and in the greater willingness manifested by the community to understand and adopt hygienic modes of life, is beyond dispute. The improvements in house building and drainage; the introduction of water, pure and plentiful; the freer admission of fresh air; the better systems of ventilation; the brilliant lighting up of our city streets—all contribute to the prevention of crime and to the spread of a higher type of morality, while increasing the health, peace, and comfort of the community. And when to all these we add the better and wider education given to the rising generation than was thought possible fifty years ago, we shall find abundant reason for the moral advancement which has been made. There are some persons who feel quite powerless to help on the cause of reform, or to improve the moral character of a single individual, because they have no gift for influencing men by direct appeal. They have, perhaps, tried and failed, and so, although they would like to do some good in the world, they are hopeless of any success. Let such take courage as they remember how many indirect, yet most effectual, methods there are of accomplishing this end. Let them look over the multitudes of civilizing agencies that are silently working in the interests of morality, and attach themselves to such as most heartily engage their interest. Every intelligent individual must be in sympathy with some of them; and it is just there that his services are needed and will be most valuable. Nor let him make the mistake of supposing that he is thus working upon a lower or inferior plane. It is in works of benevolence and reform, just as in all other kinds of work—that which a man can do best is the very best thing for him to do. So, if one man is interested in sanitary schemes and another in evening schools; if one is anxious for free libraries and another for free parks; if one can help to secure good roads and clean streets and another can aid in protecting children or dumb animals from ill-treatment, let each be assured that in such exertions he is doing his share in promoting morality and in elevating character as surely and as effectually as those whose peculiar province it is to teach or to preach, to admonish or to advise."

If the butcher's trade begets in him, the butcher, a disposition to use the knife more indiscriminately, and causes him to look upon the taking of life indifferently and unconcernedly, so that in a majority of the States he is disqualified from sitting upon a murderer's jury, there then must be something not only in the associations we keep but in the business we follow.

The average lawyer tries by every known means to clear his client. In 50% of the cases handled by 50% of the attorneys their clients are guilty and they know it. They do not break the law of their State or country simply because the laws in the main are made to screen the evil-doers and not the honest citizen. But how they can do this and affiliate with any one of the 1,100 different faiths, or attend their church organizations or services sincerely, is more than we can surmise. In contrast, however, we must mention an isolated case that has reached us well authenticated. A very prominent and able lawyer of New York City, who had the reputation of never losing a case, was accosted by a well-known offender of the law on trial for felony before the court of Oyer and Terminer. The attorney invited the would-be client into his private office and had him state his case. He finished, and the lawyer remarked, "You are guilty." "Well, I know that," replied the culprit, "that is why I want your services—you never lose a case." "Sir," said the lawyer, "you have come to the wrong office. I have never failed in any case before the courts; I account for it from the fact that I have never espoused a cause where I knew the client was guilty. Knowing I was right, I have thrown my whole soul into it, and won."

Gossip.—There is a vast deal of unhappiness in this world caused by gossip. Dr. J. G. Holland presents helpful ideas in the following:—

"What is the cure for gossip?—Simply culture. There is a great deal of gossip that has no malignity in it. Good-natured people talk about their neighbors because they have nothing else to talk about. As we write, there comes to us the picture of a family of young ladies. We have seen them at home, we have met them in galleries of art, we have caught glimpses of them going from a book store or library with a fresh volume in their hands. When we meet them they are full of what they have seen and read. They are brimming with questions. One topic of conversation is dropped only to give place to another in which they are interested. We have left them after a delightful hour, stimulated and refreshed, and during the whole hour not a neighbor's garment was soiled by so much as a touch. They had something to talk about. They knew something, and wanted to know more. They could listen as well as they could talk. To speak freely of a neighbor's doings and belongings would have seemed an impertinence to them, and, of course, an impropriety. They had no temptation to gossip, because the doings of their neighbors formed a subject very much less interesting than those which grew out of their knowledge and their culture.

"And this tells the whole story. The confirmed gossip is always either malicious or ignorant. The one variety needs a change of heart and the other a change of pasture. Gossip is always a personal confession either of malice or imbecility, and the young should not only shun it, but, by most thorough culture, relieve themselves from all temptation to indulge in it. It is a low, frivolous, and, too often, a dirty business. There are neighborhoods in which it rages like a pest. Churches are split in pieces by it. Neighbors are made enemies by it for life. In many persons it degenerates into a chronic disease, which is practically incurable. Let the young cure it while they may."

Married Life.—As the family is the center about which all life revolves, it is absolutely essential to have happy relations there. Husbands too often neglect their wives and homes. "Women are lonely," says Mrs. Annie Jenness. "They miss their husbands. What amount of companionship exists between the American woman and the man? He starts for his office as soon as his breakfast is hurriedly swallowed. He does not come home at the lunch hour. He is barely in season for a late dinner. Very possibly he belongs to a club and has an engagement as soon as dinner is done.

"If not that, his head is in bank or counting-house, and he studies the stock quotations in the night's paper, and counts, as against a possible rise of wheat, the day's gossip, with which his wife is overflowing, very small potatoes. They have callers, or they go to opera or theater. It may easily happen that they do not spend ten minutes in conversation with each other during the day. American men are always in a hurry. They seem to live for the sole purpose of catching trains. They have no time to amuse or be amused.

"The conditions of modern life separate them from women. The lives of men grow more and more simple—business comprehends the whole. The lives of women grow more and more complex—everything which is not business is given over to them. A man past the romantic epoch, who honestly enjoys talking with women, is not an average mortal. The every-day sort of man takes pains to be detained somewhere until all the guests have departed from his wife's 5 o'clock tea. The couple live in different worlds. The world is now discussing why marriage is a failure, if it is? Then consider this collection of reasons:—

"When either of the parties marry for money.

"When the lord of creation pays more for cigars than his better half does for hosiery, boots, and bonnets.

"When one of the parties engages in a business that is not approved by the other.

"When both parties persist in arguing over a subject upon which they never have and never can think alike.

"When neither husband nor wife takes a vacation.

"When the vacations are taken by one side of the house only.

"When a man attempts to tell his wife what style of bonnet she must wear.

"When a man's Christmas presents to his wife consist of boot-jacks, shirts, and gloves for himself.

"When the watchword is, 'Each for himself.'

"When dinner is not ready at dinner-time.

"When 'he' snores his loudest while 'she' kindles the fire.

"When 'father' takes half of the pie and leaves the other half for the one that made it and her eight children.

"When the children are given the neck and back of the chicken.

"When children are obliged to clamor for their rights.

"When the money that should go for a book goes for what only one side of the house knows anything about.

"When there is too much latch-key.

"When politeness, fine manners, and kindly attentions are reserved for company or visits abroad."

CHAPTER XIII.

The world moves only through the constant accumulation and conservation of force—the force of mind. We are not capable of conceiving the immense wastage of this force from year to year and from century to century. If we produce a great inventor we are ignorantly proud of him. We wonder at him as if he were a miracle. A great thinker in mechanics, in art, in science, in letters, astonishes as if he were a prodigy, when he is really only an approach to what all men have the right to be, to what all men may become when the right mind has applied to it the right compelling power of suggestion from the force of other minds. As surely as the plant is involved in its seed, so surely is all the progress of the future involved in the thought of the past, recorded in books as far as it is possible to record it at all. The telephone, the telegraph, the phonograph, the steam-engine, the power loom—every result of the application of mind in the subjection of matter—existed in the minds of men and was recorded in books years before the thought gave suggestion to the mind which applied it practically. Back of the mind of the great thinker in poetry, in statesmanship, in science, in mechanics, is the conserved force of the minds preceding him. But what does it all avail if it is wasted? We may have now a thousand Edisons, Fultons, Morses and Maurys, inert and practically useless because of force unapplied that might set them in motion to make the lives of millions, born and unborn, easier and happier. We have poets, statesmen, scientists, and inventors as unknown and unproductive as the worms which change them into productive forms of matter in country church-yards, where some Gray finds them and touches us with a sense of their loss to us without suggesting the remedy. What remedy is there if it is not this of making the suggested possibility of the past the endeavor of the present and the achievement of the future? How is that possible, if we regard our capable men as miracles, when our own incapacity to understand is the only miracle when we leave the great possibilities of mind in unnumbered "thousands to die with the matter of their bodies? Charity builds a small-pox hospital and men bless it—rightly. It benefits its hundreds and its thousands. The same benevolence, operating under the force of the conserved energy of mind, discovers vaccination, and so benefits millions and tens of millions for ages after the small-pox hospital is back in the clay from which its bricks were burned. There is here no parallel possible between the results achieved—those of the one hand so immensely exceed those of the other. The whole problem of the present and future is to bring the accumulated force of suggestion from the past to bear on the given point—on the mind of the living man, capable in possibility, and failing to achieve only for lack of stimulus—of force, of power—as a steam-engine is incapable without force applied from without. And as it is the last shovel of coal that sets the engine to work, so the mind, prepared for the final suggestion that is to give it its highest usefulness, will remain inert if the suggestion fails it. These suggestions may come from nature or directly from other minds, but in the main they come from the force of mind preserved in books. Can there be any greater, any more capable benevolence, than that which gives this force its widest possible application? A million dollars may endow a hospital for a century. Half as much in an endowment making a library free may bring pressure to bear on some brain, that, as a result, will save more suffering for the human race than has been saved by vaccination."

LONGEVITY.