mind in a heavy, consequential way, if he were to give deep
concern to each ligature he ties, and if he were to be constantly afraid
of causing pain, he would be a poor surgeon. His work, instead of being
clean and sharp, would suffer from over-conscientiousness. He might
never finish an operation for fear his patient would bleed to death.
Such a man may be the reverse of flippant, and yet he may actually enjoy
his somber work. Cruel, bloodthirsty? Not at all. These men--the great
surgeons--are as tender as children. But they love their work, they
really care very deeply for their patients. The successful ones have the
lighter touch and they have no time for worry.

Sometimes we wish to arouse the public conscience. Do the long columns
of figures, the impressive statistics, wake men to activity? It is
rather the keen, bright thrust of the satirist that saves the day. Once
in a New England town meeting there was a movement for a much-needed new
schoolhouse. By the installation of skylights in the attic the old
building had been made to accommodate the overflow of pupils. The
serious speakers in favor of the new building had left the audience
cold, when a young man arose and said he had been up into the attic and
had seen the wonderful skylights that were supposed to meet the needs of
the children. "I have seen them," he said; "we used to call them
scuttles when I was a boy." A hundred thousand dollars was voted for the
new schoolhouse.

There is a natural gayety in most of us which helps more than we realize
to keep us sound. The pity is that when responsibilities come and
hardships come, we repress our lighter selves sternly, as though such
repression were a duty. Better let us guard the springs of happiness
very, very jealously. The whistling boy in the dark street does more
than cheer himself on the way. He actually protects himself from evil,
and brings courage not only to himself, but to those who hear him. I do
not hold for false cheerfulness that is sometimes affected, but a brave
show of courage in a forlorn hope will sometimes win the day. It is
infinitely more likely to win than a too serious realization of the
danger of defeat. The show of courage is often not a pretense at all,
but victory itself.

The need of the world is very great and its human destiny is in our
hands. Half of those who could help to right the wrongs are asleep or
too selfishly immersed in their own affairs. We need more helpers like
my