generally have their plan of life laid out for them very fully by others, but even so they sometimes find it difficult to get to grips with their programme. It is so tempting to take up the easy or favourite subject first, and neglect that which is troublesome or dull. But the student who wants to develop the powers of his mind will act by voluntary decision as to what is best.

Sometimes a person will say: " I really cannot decide what to do; I cannot see what is best." Assuming then, that you have fully considered the pros and cons, and cannot decide because they are evenly balanced, or because they do not present sufficient data on which to base a definite judgment, and yet some action is desirable, toss a coin and have done with the matter. The idea is not that the coin will tell you what is best, but that it will put an end to your worry. Be sufficiently decisive, however, not to wish that the coin had fallen on the other side, or to wonder whether to toss it again to decide whether you will obey the previous toss or not!

Voluntary decision is a great help to practical success, as well as to strength and clearness of mind. I remember an account, written by a distinguished man, of the causes to which he attributed his phenomenal success in life. Among these was one which he seemed to prize above all the rest—the habit of making a list early each morning of the things which he had to do during the day. He said that with the aid of this practice he was able to do ten times as much as he could before he adopted it; not because he really worked very much harder, but because he had ceased to waste time in idle and irritating speculations as to what he should do next, and whether he should do it now or leave it until after lunch or until to-morrow. He discovered that these troublesome questions, utterly unimportant as they were, had the power to sap his strength and resolution, so as to leave him unfit to enjoy his work. Their effect was such that he found himself constantly turning aside to some trifling dissipation that would for the moment divert his mind, such as that of picking up a casual magazine to fill in an odd half hour.

Elements of Success. If you would have success in your life, take each thing that comes and decide how you will use it. No man can do everything, so choose some definite form of activity. Do not be one of those people who follow no definite road, and drift hither and thither towards an old age filled chiefly with disappointments and regrets. Dwell frequently upon the idea of your chosen purpose, so that it becomes a permanent mood. When that is established, many things will serve you which would otherwise be passed by without notice or use. If an architect travels, does he not notice the forms of the buildings in various places, as his fellow-travellers do not ? And do not those things then help him in his chosen profession ?

Some definiteness of personality and character is necessary for healthy physical existence in the fullest sense of the term. Full health is not merely harmony in our own bodily functions, but harmony also in relation to other people. We must fit into the larger body.

What is usually called greatness is not sufficient for real success in life, unless there is also goodwill for humanity, and real love for some few people. Without love, no happiness, so do not sacrifice people to greatness. For real success, body, emotions and mind must all be well occupied, and in agreement.

If body, emotions and mind are well occupied, character will follow. Character is inward success. Its possessor can make a mark on the world, but he will allow the world to make a mark on him only as he chooses. He will not drift. Nor will he be dependent upon circumstances for his happiness or strength. He will be like the Stoic of old times, who did not bother his head about things outside his power, but took good care to occupy himself with the things within his power So, before you let anything worry you, ask yourself if the thing is in your power, and if it is not, turn your attention to something else.

I once knew a family of five brothers who well illustrated the fact that there can be no real outward success without inward success. While comparatively young two of those brothers became successful in business. But unfortunately they had not the inward strength to profit by their outward prosperity and their success proved a curse instead of a blessing. They ate and drank more than was desirable; they did not take any exercise. They indulged their bodies, knowing quite well the danger of it all. At the age of about thirty-five they were both fat and ailing; at forty they were permanently in the doctor's hands; at about forty-five they were both dead, after ten years of utterly miserable life. The other three brothers remained hale and hearty, surrounded by happy families at an advanced old age.

Yet strange to say the friends of the family still allude to the two who died as the successful brothers, and say sadly what a pity it is that the best die young. But really, outward success without inward success leads to failure; and inward success ultimately leads to outward success as well.

Give your body a square deal. Let it have rest, recreation, variety—a reasonable amount of enjoyment of the senses. But exact obedience. When you know what is best insist upon it, in eating and drinking, in sleeping and rising, in working and playing. The body is almost like an animal, and you will find that it is happy when well treated without over-indulgence, which it may at times desire.

Avoid fear. Reason it out of your life. How can it help you? Do what you can, and be content with that. Avoid anger. If others wrongly obstruct you, defeat their plans if you can; if not, do what you can, and be content with that. But thank your enemies at least a little for drawing out your faculties and strength. Avoid pride; it will blind you to excellence which otherwise you might attain. Try to do well what you want or have to do, and be content with that. Do it well, if it is only putting your foot to the ground. If you must swear, swear well, and even that will become admirable. " How much must I do ?" asked a student, of his teacher. "Oh," replied the professor drily, "Just a little more than you can."

Wishing and Willing. Don't wish. For you cannot both wish and will. Wishing and willing are incompatible.

This can be shown by a very simple argument. Suppose I consider whether I will or will not pick up my pen. I cannot wish in this matter. I must decide either to pick it up or to leave it where it is. I know quite well that it weighs only an ounce or two and that I am free and strong enough to pick it up. Therefore I may say; "I will pick it up," or "I will not pick it up." But if I knew or thought that the pen weighed half a ton I might find myself saying: "Oh, I do wish that I could pick up that pen!"

Wishing is an acknowledgment of inability. It is a declaration of dependence upon external events. It is waiting, not working, and wasting time and energy while you wait, and opening the door to every sort of weakness that will spoil you for your opportunities when they come. Wise men do not wish for opportunity, but they wish to be prepared for it.

Willing is the use of your own power; the man of will has no use for wishes, which would waste his time and sap his moral strength. Therefore he does not complain against his environment, does not grumble about the things fortune brings to him through no apparent actions of his own. He is content to make the fullest possible use of what so comes.

It is worth while to meditate upon this matter of not wishing, but willing, until you have made the mood, until you instinctively say, every time that you find yourself wishing: "Stop that; I will not have it!" Dwell a little in thought upon what this change of policy would mean in your life. What would it mean to you when you rise in the morning, when you eat, when you lie down to sleep ? What when you meet your companions, your friends, your so-called enemies ? What when you lose your appointment or money, or meet with an accident or fall ill, and your family suffers. Sit down and think over all the disagreeable things that may happen within the next week, and see in each case, what it would mean to you.

You would not wish them to be otherwise. You would say to each of them: "What are you for; what use can I make of you ?" You would not sink down and say " I am sorry

-," or "I wish-" You would get up and say: "I

While I am on this subject, let me give a warning against idle thought, which is akin to wishing. It is a great weakness of some to dally in imagination with things which they would hesitate to express in act if opportunity came. Avoid the habit of lying awake in bed and thinking things over before going to sleep, and of lying in a semi-dream state on awakening. Thinking should be done in a positive position and with intention, not in a semi-sleep.

Do not dwell again and again on the same thought or argument. If anything requires to be thought over, bring forward and consider all the facts bearing upon it, arrive at a conclusion, and then dismiss the matter from your mind ; and never consider it again unless you can bring some new facts to bear upon it.

If a difficulty arises, do not procrastinate; deal with it completely there and then, and dismiss its further consideration, or appoint a special time for settling it. Do not let anxiety, fear and distress ramble about the mind, poisoning and enfeebling it.

Do not think about what others say about you, except to extract from it the element of truth which is often there. On no account make the imperfections of others a subject of your meditations. You need your energy and time for your own work, and besides, dwelling on others' defects tends to develop the same weaknesses in ourselves.

If the brain is torpid do not eat after dark or sleep after dawn, and take mild exercise and fresh air.

Work and Play. The strong attitude towards life which I have advocated may seem somewhat hard, as filling the day too much with work. But I would say, "Unify work and play." Work need not be toil and drudgery; in fact, its true character is play. Drudgery is merely action; it does not create the man who does it. But the least bit of work done well, done heartily, done better than ever before, feels good, is good, and leads to good. If, in writing a letter, one is at pains to do it neatly, even beautifully, and to express oneself briefly, clearly and gracefully, one has developed hand, eye and brain, thought-power, love-power, and will-power, and that means more life for the future. But if you do it with your eye on the future and not because you like it in the doing, you will lose much of the savour and the benefit.

Also, if you can help it, do not work too much. There is no sense in overwork. The man who does it achieves less than he who knows how to measure his strength. All our work ought to create new strength in us so that to-morrow will be better than to-day. Work that is so hard or prolonged that it leaves us weaker to-morrow is no true work at all, but waste.

In the ideal, all work would be play. "Consider the lilies of the field; they toil not, neither do they spin."

Some people go to the extreme and convert play into work. If you practise, let the practice also be play, or the thought of the future may spoil the present, and that in turn spoil the hoped-for future, causing you to fall short of full success. It is related of Paderewski that when he had already made some appearances in public at the piano, an expert approached him and said: " If you will obey me for two years I will make you the greatest of pianists." He obeyed and practised exercises constantly without giving himself the pleasure of appearing in public for two years. But I think that during that time he must have delighted in the feeling of growing strength and suppleness in his fingers, and not fixed his gaze too closely on the end of the two years.

No doubt we have to whip ourselves up a bit sometimes, but that is only at the beginning of the journey, when the engine is cold. I knew a lady who used to get out of bed at two in the morning to feed young pups. It was a pull, no doubt, but I believe a bright spot in her life, though probably she never analysed it as such.

There are many occasions of pleasure as well as profit lost to the man who keeps his eye glued too closely on the future. To him a long journey, for example, may be a misery, as he is thinking only of what he will do or receive at the end of it. Another finds a thousand things of interest on the way—the scenery, the people, the train itself; for him the journey is a happy holiday. And in the end he has accomplished much more than the other man.

I have long admired the Hindus for their capacity to enjoy the journey of life. The Hindu villager lives very near to nature, and shows us a sample of man growing as the flower grows. A man will set out from his village to collect the mail from the post office or to dispatch some letters there, perhaps many miles away. He does not tramp along stolidly and painfully, jarring his nerves with the graceless movements that spring from a discontented or impatient mind. The vision of his mail is not a mania that shuts out all other interests, and makes him curse the length of the track. No, there are insects, birds, flowers, trees, streams, clouds in the sky, fields, houses, animals and people, and lastly the blessed earth itself, to lie on which for a while is to be in paradise.

On the other hand, do not be always seeking novelty as such. People seek novelty because their own shallow powers of thought soon exhaust the surface possibilities of familiar things. It is a step beyond that to have a prevailing purpose and mood. It is a step farther still to be full of a purpose and yet awake to the value of all things by the way.

In conclusion, remember the Hindu proverbs—

If you want a light, what is the good of merely talking about a lamp ?

If you are sick, can you cure your disease simply by calling out the names of medicines ?

Hidden treasure does not reveal itself by your simply commanding: "Come out!" You must find the place, remove the stones, and dig.

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