sonal vengeance. It is easier
to gloss over an offense than to make ourselves disagreeable and perhaps
unpopular.

We have not even the public spirit to have a thief arrested and appear
against him in court if he has taken from us only a small amount of
money. It is too much trouble. Only when our pride is hurt do we call
loudly on justice and honor.

Even revenge is out of fashion. It requires too much effort. Few of us
have enough principle to make ourselves uncomfortable in attempting to
show disapproval toward wrongdoers. Were this not so, the wicked would
not be still flourishing like green bay trees. So long as one steals
enough he can easily buy our forgiveness. Honesty is not the best
policy--except in trifles.

CHAPTER VI

MY FUTURE

When I began to pen these wandering confessions--or whatever they may
properly be called--it was with the rather hazy purpose of endeavoring
to ascertain why it was that I, universally conceded to be a successful
man, was not happy. As I reread what I have written I realize that,
instead of being a successful man in any way, I am an abject failure.

The preceding pages need no comment. The facts speak for themselves. I
had everything in my favor at the start. I had youth, health, natural
ability, a good wife, friends and opportunity; but I blindly accepted
the standards of the men I saw about me and devoted my energies to the
achievement of the single object that was theirs--the getting of money.

Thirty years have gone by. I have been a leader in the race and I have
secured a prize. But at what cost? I am old--a bundle of undesirable
habits; my health is impaired; my wife has become a frivolous and
extravagant woman; I have no real friends: my children are strangers to
me, and I have no home. I have no interest in my family, my social
acquaintances, or in the affairs of the city or nation. I take no
sincere pleasure in art or books or outdoor life. The only genuine
satisfaction that is mine is in the first fifteen-minutes' flush after
my afternoon cocktail and the preliminary course or two of my dinner. I
have nothing to look forward to. No matter how much money I make, there
is no use to which I can put it that will increase my happiness.

From a material standpoint I have achieved everything I can possibly
desire. No king or emperor ever approximated the actual luxury of my
daily life. No one ever accomplished more apparent work with less actual
personal effort