ne with which to reap standing
grain. The thinker reduces his thoughts to practice, and cuts the grain,
leaving it in such condition that a raker is needed to bunch it previous
to binding.

His victory is heralded to the world as king of the harvest, and so
accepted. The discoverer says, "I wish I could bunch that grain." He
begins to reason from the great principle of cause and effect, and
sleeps not until he has added to his already made discovery, an addition
so ingeniously constructed that it will drop the grain in bunches ready
for the binder. The discoverer stands by and sees in the form of a human
being hands, arms and a band; he watches the motion then starts in to
rustle with cause and effect again. He thinks and sweats day and night,
and by the genius of thought produces a machine to bind the grain. By
this time another suggestion arises, how to separate the wheat as the
machine journeys in its cutting process. To his convictions nothing will
solve this problem but mental action. He thinks and dreams of cause and
effect. His mind seems to forget all the words of his mother tongue but
cause and effect. He talks and preaches cause and effect in so many
places that his associates begin to think he is mentally failing, and
will soon be a subject for the asylum. He becomes disgusted with their
lack of appreciation, seeks seclusion and formulates the desired
addition and threshes the grain ready for the bag. He has solved the
question and proved to his neighbors that the asylum was built for them,
not for him. With cause and effect which is ever before the
philosopher's eye, he ploughs the ocean regardless of the furious
waves, he dreads not the storms on the seas, because he has so
constructed a vessel with a resistance superior to the force of the
lashing waves of the ocean, and the world scores him another victory. He
opens his mouth and says by the law of cause and effect I will talk to
my mother who is hundreds of miles away. He disturbs her rest by the
rattling of a little electric bell in her room. Tremblingly the aged
mother approaches the telephone and asks "Who is there?" And is
answered, "It is me, Jimmie," and asks, "To whom am I talking?" She says
"Mrs. Sarah Murphy." He says, "God bless you, mother; I am at Galveston,
Texas, and you are in Boston, Mass." She laughs and cries with joy; he
hears every emotion of her trembling voice. She says to him, "You have
succeeded at last. I have never doubted your