thing to show for our
endeavor_ besides a little character and the little we have done, is
anything but encouraging. Somehow, we feel that we have not amounted to
much, and we know the world looks upon us in the same way if we have not
managed to accumulate something. It is a reflection upon our business
ability, upon our judgment, upon our industry. It is not so much for the
money, as for what it means to have earned and saved money; it is the
idea of thrift. If we have not been thrifty, if we have not saved
anything, the world will look upon us as good for nothing, as partial
failures, as either lazy, slipshod, or extravagant. They regard us as
either not having been able to make money, or if we have, not being able
to save it.

But let it be remembered that thrift is not parsimony not miserliness.
It often means very liberal spending. It is a perpetual protest against
putting the emphasis on the wrong thing.

No one should make the mistake of economizing to the extent of planting
seeds, and then denying liberal nourishment to the plants that grow from
them; of conducting business without advertising; or of saving a little
extra expense by pinching on one's table or dress. "A dollar saved is a
dollar earned," but a dollar spent well and liberally is often several
dollars earned. A dollar saved is often very many dollars lost. The
progressive, generous spirit, nowadays, will leave far behind the plodder
that devotes time to adding pennies that could be given to making dollars.

The only value a dollar has is its buying power. "No matter how many
times it has been spent, it is still good." Hoarded money is of no more
use than gold so inaccessible in old Mother Earth that it will never feel
the miner's pick. There is plenty in this world, if we keep it moving
and keep moving after it. Imagine everybody in the world stingy, living
on the principle of "We can do without that," or "Our grandfathers got
along without such things, and I guess I can." What would become of our
parks, grand buildings, electrical improvements; of music and art? What
would become of labor that nurses a tree from a forest to a piano or a
palace car? What would become of those dependent upon the finished work?
What would happen, what panic would follow, if everybody turned stingy,
is indefinable.

"So apportion your wants that your means may exceed them," says Bulwer.
"With one hundred pounds a year I may need no man's help; I may