efore
it is necessary."

"My children," said a dying man, "during my long life I have had a great
many troubles, most of which never happened." A prominent business man
in Philadelphia said that his father worried for twenty-five years over
an anticipated misfortune which never arrived.

We try to grasp too much of life at once; since we think of it as a
whole, instead of living one day at a time. Life is a mosaic, and each
tiny piece must be cut and set with skill, first one piece, then
another.

A clock would be of no use as a time-keeper if it should become
discouraged and come to a standstill by calculating its work a year
ahead, as the clock did in Jane Taylor's fable. It is not the troubles
of to-day, but those of to-morrow and next week and next year, that
whiten our heads, wrinkle our faces, and bring us to a standstill.

"There is such a thing," said Uncle Eben, "as too much foresight. People
get to figuring what might happen year after next, and let the fire go
out and catch their death of cold, right where they are."

Nervous prostration is seldom the result of present trouble or work, but
of work and trouble anticipated. Mental exhaustion comes to those who
look ahead, and climb mountains before reaching them. Resolutely build a
wall about to-day, and live within the inclosure. The past may have been
hard, sad, or wrong,--but it is over.

Why not take a turn about? Instead of worrying over unforeseen
misfortune, set out with all your soul to rejoice in the unforeseen
blessings of all your coming days. "I find the gayest castles in the air
that were ever piled," says Emerson, "far better for comfort and for use
than the dungeons in the air that are daily dug and caverned out by
grumbling, discontented people."

What is this world but as you take it? Thackeray calls the world a
looking-glass that gives back the reflection of one's own face. "Frown
at it, and it will look sourly upon you; laugh at it, and it is a jolly
companion."

"There is no use in talking," said a woman. "Every time I move, I vow
I'll never move again. Such neighbors as I get in with! Seems as though
they grow worse and worse." "Indeed?" replied her caller; "perhaps you
take the worst neighbor with you when you move."

"In the sudden thunder-storm of Independence Day," says a news
correspondent, "we were struck by the contrast between two women, each
of whom had had some trying experience with the weather. One came
through the r