peed. Soon conscious of a lighter load
than usual, the steeds dashed on, tossing the chariot as a ship at
sea, and rushed headlong from the traveled road of the middle zone.
The Great and Little Bear were scorched, and the Serpent that coils
around the North Pole was warmed to life. Now filled with fear and
dread, Phaeton lost self-control, and looked repentant to the goal
which he could never reach. The unrestrained steeds dashed hither and
thither among the stars, and reaching the Earth, set fire to trees,
cities, harvests, mountains. The air became hot and lurid. The rivers,
springs, and snowbanks were dried up. The Earth then cried out in her
agony to Jupiter for relief, and he launched a thunderbolt at the now
cowed and broken-hearted driver, which not only struck him from the
seat he had dishonored, but also out of existence.

The old mythologists were no fools. They saw the worries, the dangers,
the sure end of ambition. They wrote their cautions and warnings
against it in this graphic story. Why will men and women, for the sake
of an uncertain and unsure goal, tempt the Fates, and, at the same
time, surely bring upon themselves a thousand unnecessary worries
that sting, nag, taunt, fret, and distress? Far better seek a goal of
certainty, a harbor of sureness, in the doing of kindly deeds, noble
actions, unselfish devotion to the uplift of others. In this mad rush
of ambitious selfishness, such a life aim may _seem_ chimerical, yet
it is the only aim that will reach, attain, endure. For all earthly
fame, ambitious attainment, honor, glory is evanescent and temporary.
Like the wealth of the miser, it must be left behind. There is no
pocket in any shroud yet devised which will convey wealth across the
River of Death, and no man's honors and fame but that fade in the
clear light of the Spirit that shines in the land beyond.

Then, ambitious friend, quit your worrying, readjust your aim, trim
your lamp for another and better guest, live for the uplift of others,
seek to give help and strength to the needy, bring sunshine to the
darkened, give of your abundance of spirit and exuberance to those who
have little or none, and thus will you lay up treasure within your own
soul which will convert hell into heaven, and give you joy forever.

So long as men and women believe that happiness lies in outdistancing,
surpassing their fellows in exterior or material things, they cannot
help but be subjects to worry. To determine