remainder in wages and salaries, capital one-third for interest, upkeep of
capital, and profit.

FINANCIER AND JUDGE

With some exceptions, neither the deep thinker nor the hard physical
worker is capable of handling finances. They are lacking in financial
acumen, due, no doubt, to the fact that the thinker is interested chiefly
in the object of his thought, the worker chiefly in the exercise of his
powerful muscles. Neither of them is sufficiently eager for the good
things of life to have a true and unerring sense of financial values. The
lean man is nervous. He is inclined to be irritable; he probably lacks
patience. Therefore, he is not well qualified to judge impartially. The
active, energetic, restless man is not contented to sit quietly for hours
at a time and listen to the troubles of other people. He must get away, be
out of doors, have something to do to exercise those splendid muscles of
his. Therefore, it is left to the fat man to sit upon the bench, to listen
to tiresome details of the woe of those who have had trouble with one
another. Because he is neither nervous nor irritable; because his mind is
at rest; because he is well fed and well clothed and has no need to be
anxious, he can take time to be impartial and to judge righteous judgment
between his fellowmen. And so you will find fat men on the bench, in
politics, in the halls of legislature, on the police force, and in other
places where they have an opportunity to use their judicial ability.

HOW MISFITS HAPPEN

So unerring is the fat man's judgment of values, as a general rule, that
it is not at all likely that he would ever find himself a misfit were it
not for the fact that many men are lean and slender or muscular and robust
up to the age of 30 or 40, and after that put on flesh rapidly. These men,
therefore, are often deceived in regard to themselves. In the slenderness
of youth, they feel active and are active. In short, they have the
qualities, in these early periods of their life, which we should expect in
men of similar build. They are, therefore, too likely to enter upon
vocations for which they will find themselves unfitted as the years go by
and they put on more flesh. It often happens that men of this class
graduate from the ranks of thinkers or workers into the ranks of managers,
financiers, bankers, and judges, as they put on flesh and become better
and better adapted for that particular kind of work. The only trouble is
that sometimes they are not well enough trained--they do not have
sufficient education for the higher positions. In these cases they remain
misfits. Oftentimes they succeed in getting into positions of
comparatively mediocre executive nature, when they could assume and make a
success of very much higher positions if they had a true knowledge of
their vocations.

A FAT MAN'S SUCCESS

The story of Hon. Alfred L. Cutting, of Weston, Massachusetts, perhaps
illustrates as well as any other in our records the aptitudes and
vocational possibilities of this type. Mr. Cutting comes of good old New
England stock, his ancestors on both sides having settled in Massachusetts
comparatively early in the seventeenth century. His father and his
grandfather before him were merchants, and young Alfred began working in
the parental general store as soon as he had finished school.

As a youth, Mr. Cutting was quite distinctly of the bony and muscular
type, being very active, fond of rowing and fishing, a great lover of
nature and of long tramps through the beautiful hills of eastern
Massachusetts. As he entered manhood, however, he began to put on more
flesh and to take less interest in strenuous outdoor sports. At the same
time, he began to take a hand, in a quiet, modest way, in the town
politics of Weston. While still a comparatively young man, he was elected
a member of the board of selectmen of this town and has held this position
with singular acceptability to his fellow-citizens almost continuously
ever since.

For a number of years, Mr. Cutting was associated with his father and
brother in the general store, but, as time went on, he became ambitious to
enlarge his activities. He, therefore, assisted in the organization of the
New England branch of the Sheldon School, of Chicago, and was its manager
for a number of years. When he first undertook this work, Mr. Cutting had
never made a public speech in his life, and, while he was interested in
politics and ambitious for success along this line, he felt greatly
handicapped by what he considered to be his inability to face an audience
acceptably. It was at about this time that we first formed the
acquaintance of Mr. Cutting and, upon consultation, informed him of his
natural aptitudes and talents. He immediately began a careful study of
public speaking, supplementing this study with actual practice both in
politics and in his capacity as manager of the Sheldon School. In 1908 and
1909 he was a member of the House of Representatives for the State of
Massachusetts, gaining credit for himself as a member of important
committees and rendering to his own constituency unusually faithful and
efficient service.

SUCCESS IN EXECUTIVE CAPACITY

As manager for the Sheldon School, Mr. Cutting selected and trained a
number of salesmen and assistants in the leadership of whom he did
excellent work, he himself delivering lectures before boards of trade,
chambers of commerce, trade conventions, and other such bodies in all
parts of New England. He has since, however, given up this particular line
of work to devote himself to politics, to his civic duties, and to the
management of his growing mercantile business. He is, at present, chairman
of the board of selectmen for the town of Weston, an office which he has
held with distinction for five years. He is also a member of the executive
committee of the Republican Club of Massachusetts. In 1913 he was the
Republican candidate for representative in Congress for the thirteenth
district, at the special election held during that year to fill the
vacancy caused by the promotion of the Hon. John W. Weeks to the United
States Senate. This was the year when the Progressive vote was very large
and the Republican candidate for governor in Massachusetts was thousands
of votes behind the Progressive. Notwithstanding this unusual political
situation, Mr. Cutting, though not elected, led his Progressive opponent
by more than 3,000 votes, and, by his splendid leadership, helped lay the
foundation for the Republican victory in the same district the following
year. At this writing, Mr. Cutting has just won a notable victory at the
polls, having been elected a member of the board of county commissioners
for Middlesex County by a very large plurality. He carried every district
in the county except two, and in nearly every district he ran far ahead of
his ticket.

POLITICAL PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICES

Mr. Cutting's ability, however, is by no means fully indicated by the
offices which he has held. He has never been an office seeker, but has
preferred rather to work as a political leader. His great interest in
politics arises, first, from his ardent desire for excellence and
efficiency in the public service. Under his leadership, the town of Weston
has built and maintains more miles of excellent roads, at less cost to the
tax payer, than any other town of its area in the State. Its schools and
other public institutions are similarly efficient and conducted with a
similar degree of economy. Second, Mr. Cutting enjoys politics because he
loves the game. Like all true sportsmen, he plays to win, but is neither
chagrined or cast down if he loses. He is always able to rejoice with the
victor if beaten in a fair fight.

FINANCIAL ACUMEN

Mr. Cutting is one of the organizers of the Metropolitan Bank of Boston,
and a prominent member of its board of directors, thus indicating his
growing interest in financial matters.

The portraits of Mr. Cutting, shown on pages 126 and 127, are well worthy
of study. In them are evident his cheerfulness, his geniality, his
shrewdness, his friendliness, and his honesty of purpose. These are shown
largely in the expression, but also in the full, found development of his
head just above the temples, in his long back head, and in the general
squareness of the head. This squareness, especially in the back, indicates
also his prudence, his tendency to take precautions and, through
foresight, to forestall disaster. The narrowness of the head, just above
the ears, indicates mildness of disposition and an ability to secure his
ends by tact, diplomacy, and intellectual mastery rather than by open
combat and belligerency. The fulness of the eyes indicates Mr. Cutting's
command of language, and the broad, square chin his determination and
deliberation; the long line from the point of the chin to the crown of the
head, his love of authority and his ability to lead and to rule.

INDICATIONS OF APPROACHING STOUTNESS

The man of slender build who has indications clearly marked and easily
recognizable of approaching stoutness should prepare himself for
executive, financial, judicial, or merchandising work. He should study
law, economics, finance, banking, politics, political economy, public
speaking and other such branches. If he has the ability to write, he
should prepare himself to write on financial or political subjects. Many
of our most noted political writers are fat men. Such writers as Alfred G.
Lewis, Samuel G. Blythe, and others are good examples of this type.

Indications of approaching stoutness are not difficult to detect. Heredity
has a powerful influence. The young man who resembles his father in facial
appearance and coloring, will probably grow stout if his father is a fat
man. When the face inclines to be round, the cheeks rather full, and the
lips full, there is a fair probability that the individual will take on
flesh. A concave form of face is also another good indication. The concave
face is shown in Figure 31. It will be seen that it is prominent at the
point of the chin, and not so prominent at the mouth, and prominent at the
top of the forehead, near the hair line, and not so prominent at the
brows. The nose, also, is inclined to be sway backed. Another indication
which should have a bearing in the choice of a vocation is the thickness
of the neck, especially, at the back, and a fulness of the back head, at
the base of the brain. Such fulness is shown in Figure 16.

Wideness of the head, in comparison with length and height, is also
another indication that the individual may put on flesh as he grows
older. The man or woman who has a majority of these indications will do
well to prepare himself or herself for a position of command.

The world is a richer, pleasanter, better fed, better clothed, and happier
place because of its fat men. It is true, they enjoy the good things of
life themselves, but, as a general rule, they also like to see others
enjoy them, and well deserve the rich rewards they reap. We are glad that
so few of them are ever poor and hungry.

[Illustration: FIG. 17. Beaumont, Aviator. His square jaw, strong
chin, large nose, large ear, convex profile, and alert, keen expression
all indicate activity, energy, love of motion, desire for speed, and
physical courage.]

[Illustration: Photo by Paul Thompson. N.
FIG. 18. The late Lincoln Beachy, Aviator. A man of consummate physical
courage and coolness. Note long lines of face and unusually long,
prominent chin.]

[Illustration: _Copyright by Harris & Ewing_.
FIG. 19. Col. George W. Goethals, Builder of the Panama Canal and Governor
of Canal Zone. Of the intellectual but bony and muscular type. Short,
stocky, enduring, and resistant. Finer and kindlier than FIG. 20 or FIG.
21, as shown by texture and expression, but firm, dogged, and just. A
natural-born executive for construction or mechanical work. Note firm
mouth and chin, with slight droop at corners, showing determination and
self-control.]

[Illustration: _Copyright American Press Association_.
FIG. 20. Field Marshal von Hindenberg, of the German Army. A splendid
example of the bony, muscular type. Unusually determined, persistent,
enduring, and resistant. Prudent, far-sighted, dogged, unsentimental,
capable of enduring great hardship. Note short, stocky build; big, square
chin and jaw; long, square head; relentless expression of mouth and eyes;
coarse texture, and big, heavy-tipped nose. A great executive, especially
as a relentless driver and rigid disciplinarian.]

[Illustration: _Copyright American Press Association_.
FIG. 21. Rear Admiral Frank E. Beatty, of the American Navy. A fine
example of the bony and muscular type. Rugged and enduring, keen, alert,
and resourceful. Finer and kindlier than von Hindenberg, but not quite so
fine, intellectual and kindly as Goethals. Just and determined as an
executive, of which he is an excellent type. Note finer texture and more
genial expression.]

[Illustration: FIG. 22. William Lloyd Garrison, the Great Abolitionist. A
man of the bony and muscular type, with the passion of his type for
freedom. A man of high ideals, great courage, determination, and
perseverance. Note large, well-formed features; forehead prominent at
brows; long upper lip, and high, spirited expression. Such a man cannot be
overlooked.]

[Illustration: _Photo by Pach, N.Y._
FIG. 23. Samuel Rea, Railroad Builder and Executive. Very alert, keen,
practical, matter-of-fact, hard-headed; a good observer, a quick thinker.
Very decisive, determined, and persistent. Understands construction,
mechanics, and operation. Note well-developed brows; moderately low,
square forehead; height of crown; width of head; large, well-formed nose,
mouth, chin, jaw, and ears, and keen, but calm, self-possessed
expression.]

[Illustration: FIG. 24. Lon Wescott Beck, the Sign Poster of Death
Valley. An out-of-doors man. Loves grandeur of scenery, wide spaces. Note
long, square, prominent chin; long lines of face; width between eyes, and
width at top of head.]

CHAPTER VI

THE MAN OF BONE AND MUSCLE

Consider the record of the man of action.

He built the pyramids and temples of Egypt, raised up the monuments and
artistic triumphs of Greece, fared forth across the plains of Arabia and
the deserts of Africa on horses and camels before the dawn of history. He
wore the coat of mail of the Roman legion; he penetrated through the
northernmost forest of Europe; he pioneered in barbarous England.
Thousands of years ago he built ships and sailed them, and, finally, drove
them across the sea. Thus he found two new continents. In America, he cut
down forests, built roads, established industry, fought battles for
freedom, invented and built steamships, telephones, telegraphs, cotton
gins, aeroplanes, railroads, submarines thousands of electric light and
power stations, and millions of shops and factories. He explored darkest
Africa; found both the North and the South Poles. This man drives his
steamships at thirty knots an hour, his locomotives at 70 miles an hour,
his automobiles at 100, and his aeroplanes at 120. He is setting higher
and yet higher records for running, leaping, swimming, rowing, throwing
weights, and driving horses. He has organized great athletic contests,
baseball leagues, tennis associations, golf clubs, and other organizations
for the promotion of physical activity. The man of bone and muscle has
climbed to the peaks of all the mountains of the world; has dug down into
the depths of the earth after her treasures of gold and silver and the
baser metals, precious stones, and other products of the mines. This man
tills the fields, manufactures all fabricated products, and carries goods
to the ends of the earth. This active type mans navies, fills the ranks of
armies, erects great buildings, and cut through the backbone of a
continent.

ACTIVITY AND SPEED

This man loves motion. He is not satisfied with slow, languid motion, but
demands speed, greater and ever greater speed. And so his horses, his
locomotives, the machines in his factory, his automobiles, his aeroplanes,
his motor-cycles, his farm implements, his ocean liners, his motor boats,
are being constantly studied, constantly improved, and constantly raised
to higher and higher performances in speed of production, speed of
transportation, speed of accomplishment.

This man not only demands speed, but he demands space. The man who can
travel at a hundred miles an hour needs many hundred miles in which to
travel. This is why nearly all of his activities are in the big
out-of-doors; this is why he is constantly exploring and pioneering in
order to extend his boundaries. He has a craving for more space in which
to breathe, more scope of action.

This ardent and irrepressible desire for physical freedom, for physical
liberty of action, also leads to the desire for political and economical
freedom. All of our great liberators, from Moses down to Lincoln, have
been men of this active, muscular, bony, type. Because they desire freedom
for themselves, they want freedom for everyone else. They often go to
extremes and strive to secure freedom for those who have no use for it,
who do not care for it after it is won for them, and who only abuse it
when they should enjoy its blessings.

THE MAN OF MUSCLE GROWS A BRAIN

In the early days of the race, the man of this type had little
intelligence. He was supposed to be, principally, bone and muscle with no
brain. He did the physical work which was assigned to him and other men
did the thinking, the planning, and the directing. But, as the race has
increased in intelligence, the man of bone and muscle has developed a
brain. Manual skill, educators tell us, is one of the best of all means
for gaining knowledge and increasing intelligence. So now the muscular man
can think, now he can plan, now, especially, does he manifest his
thinking, planning and constructive ability along lines for increasing
speed, getting more out of machinery, buildings, inventions, manufacture,
agriculture, horticulture, transportation. In all these lines the man of
action is also a man of thought. This is well; this is an improvement, and
our active, hustling, pioneer type of man is happier, more efficient, more
prosperous in his intelligent state than he was in his purely physical
state. But here, also, he gets into trouble. So long as his mental
activity is accompanied by considerable physical activity, his health is
good, he is satisfied, he enjoys his work and he is successful in it. But
the time comes when the work to be done by brain becomes so important that
many men of this type give up physical activity entirely and devote all of
their time to mental work.

THE ACTIVE MAN'S DILEMMA

Strange that we have not learned that any faculty possessed must be
exercised or the possessor surely falls into evil ways. Strange that we
have not seen that the man who explores the unknown world in mighty
pioneering work, who frees it from oppression, who carries on its
tremendous physical and industrial development, could never be satisfied
if imprisoned within the four walls of an office. Thus hampered and
confined, unless he finds expression for his speed mania, he grows
irritable, ill, nervous, depressed. He troops, by the thousand, into the
consulting rooms of the physician and surgeon. And always and always is
the same prescription given: "You must get away from your work; you must
get out into the open; you must get plenty of outdoor exercise."

Exercise, exercise, exercise, has become the slogan. Magazines are devoted
to it. Whole libraries of books are published showing the relationship
between exercise and health. Sanitariums multiply whose principal means of
cure are located in the gymnasium, in the garden, in the woods, at the
wood pile, and on the farm. Fortunes have been made in the manufacture of
the equipment for exercise: Indian clubs, dumb bells, and whole shiploads
of so-called sporting goods, the object of all of which is to enable the
active man to get some relief from the ache of his muscles or nerves due
to lack of exercise.

EXERCISE FOR EXERCISE'S SAKE DULL

But the man of muscle is, as we have said, frequently a man of brains. He
has common sense; he has a desire for accomplishment and achievement. To
such a man, the mere pulling of cords, or the swinging about of his arms
and legs, the bending of his back, just for the sake of exercise, seems a
trifle stupid.

Very few men of this type ever keep up exercise for exercise's sake for
any very long period of time. They read in some magazine about the
benefits of exercise. Perhaps, on account of some trouble, they go to
their physicians, and exercise is prescribed. So, with a great show of
resolution and not a little feeling of martyrdom, they buy a pair of
Indian clubs, or wall exercisers, or a weight machine, or, perhaps, merely
buy a book of "exercises without apparatus," and make up their minds to
take their exercises regularly every morning. At first they attack the
task with great enthusiasm--but it is still a task. Perhaps marked
improvement is shown. They feel much better. They push out their chests
and tell their friends how they get up, take a cold bath every morning,
and then take ten or fifteen or twenty minutes of rapid calisthenics. In a
righteous glow, they relate how it shakes them up and makes their blood
course through their veins; how they breathe deeply; how the process
clears out their heads; and how much better they feel They wind up: "You
ought to do it, too, old man; it would make you young again."

By and by, however, to stand gazing blankly at the wall of a bathroom, or
out of the window of a bed-chamber, and put your arms up five times and
then straight forward five times, then repeat five times, etc., etc.,
grows dull. You lose interest You hate the task--you revolt. Even if, by
power of will, you keep it up, you do so under protest. It is a physical
truth that that which is disagreeable is also physically harmful. In order
to be wholesomely nourishing, food must taste good. The same is true in
regard to exercise. There is no very great benefit in exercise which is
drudgery.

WHEN GAMES PALL

To take the "task" element out of exercise, many kinds of games have been
invented--some indoor, some outdoor, some for men of little activity, some
of great strenuousness and even danger. But it requires a particular type
of man or woman to take interest in a game, to play it well and
profitably, as a form of exercise. To enter into a game whole-heartedly,
one must have a keen zest for combat. The man who plays purely for the
sport, and not to win, doesn't win. And the man who doesn't win, loses
interest. Not all men, not even all active men, have this desire to win.
To them a game soon becomes dull--nearly as dull as any other form of
exercise. They do not see that they are any further ahead in anything
worth while simply because they have knocked a golf ball about more
skilfully--or luckily--than some other fellow, or pulled a little stronger
oar than their opponents. There are plenty of men to whom it is
humiliating to be beaten, who are not good losers, and because they are
not good losers they are not very often winners. Such men do not really
enjoy games at all, and, as a general rule, do not play them with
enthusiasm and persistence.

For those, then, who do not enjoy calisthenics of any kind, who take very
little interest in games and contests, there remain, for exercise,
gardening, farming, carpentry, forestry, hunting, fishing, mountain
climbing, and other such forms of physical activity. All of these,
however, require considerable leisure, and some financial investment. They
are out of the reach of many of those in lower clerkships and other such
employment. These men, by the thousands, work in offices which are,
perhaps, not as well ventilated as they should be, under artificial light.
They travel to and from their work in crowded street cars and subways, and
live in little dark, narrow flats and apartments, with one window opening
out on sunlight and fresh air, and all other windows opening on courts
and so-called light and air-shafts. Golf, tennis, baseball, rowing, etc.,
are good forms of exercise for these men--but few of them care for games.
Gardening, forestry, carpenter work, mountain climbing, hunting, or
fishing are out of the question in a city flat. So the majority jump up in
the morning, hurry on their clothes, snatch a bite of breakfast, run for a
car, get to work, burrow in the warrens of industry until lunch time, rush
out, snatch a sandwich and a cup of coffee at some lunch counter, and back
to work again until dinner time. Another dive into the bowels of the earth
in the subway, home to the little flat, dinner at seven o'clock or even
later, and then the short evening. This little time from eight o'clock
until ten at night is practically the only time the worker has for
himself, except for holidays and his annual two weeks' vacation. How shall
he get sufficient physical exercise during that time to satisfy all his
needs? If he is so constituted that he enjoys such things, he may go to a
gymnasium or to a bowling alley, but he is just as likely to go to a pool
room or to a dance hall. Of course, it is far better for him to play pool
or to dance than to sit quietly at home, as many do.

SOLUTION OF THE PROBLEM

This whole question is a serious one. Even those who have the time, the
means, the opportunity, and the inclination find themselves confronted
with problems. Even with all of their opportunities, most of them do not
get enough outdoor physical activity. And so they fret, they fume, they
beat their wings against the bars, they are unhappy, dissatisfied, and
therefore, oftentimes inefficient and unsuccessful. Even when they are
successful, they have fallen far below what they might have accomplished
had they been engaged in some vocation which would have given them not
only physical activity out of doors, but _some intense vital interest_ in
the _result_ of that activity. In other words, their vocation should
supply them with the necessary physical exercise as part of the day's
work. They should see themselves advancing, making money, achieving
something worth while, creating something beautiful or useful, making a
career for themselves, instead of merely playing or exercising for the
sake of exercise. Then they would be happier. Then they would be better
satisfied with their lot. They would be more efficient and far more
successful.

Current literature abounds in true stories of those who have gone forward
to the land and have found help, happiness, and success in the cultivation
of the soil. This one has redeemed an abandoned farm in New England. That
one has taken a small ten-acre farm in southern California. Another has
carved out health, happiness, and a fair degree of fortune for himself on
the plains of Washington or Idaho, or among the hills of Oregon. Old
southern plantations have been rehabilitated at the same time with their
new owners or tenants.

ONE MAN'S "WAY OUT"

Near Gardiner, Maine, is a little forty-five acre poultry and fruit farm
which pays its happy owner $3,800 a year clear of all expense. Seven years
ago this farm was abandoned by its former owners, who could not make it
pay. Five years ago it was purchased by its present owner for a song--and
only a half-line of the song was sung at the time. He was a clerk who had
lived the little-flat-dark-office-and-subway life until tuberculosis had
removed him from his job and threatened his life. Farm work--on his own
farm--proved to be a game at which he could play with zest and success.
The stakes were a life and a living--and he has won. We--and you, too, no
doubt--could multiply narratives from observation and experience, to say
nothing of reading.

A WORLD OF OPPORTUNITY

All these experiences and the reports of them are both a part of and a
stimulus to the "back to the land movement." This movement has its
mainspring in two plain economic facts, namely: first, clerical and other
indoor vocations have become overcrowded; second, while crops grow bigger
year by year, the number of mouths to feed multiplies even faster, and
unless more land is tilled and all land cultivated more intensively, we
shall eat less and less, as a race, and pay more and more for what we eat.
Here is opportunity for the men of bone and muscle--opportunity for
health, prosperity, usefulness to humanity, enjoyment and happiness. Other
opportunities lie in the conservation of our forests and the planting and
development of new timber lands; in the building up of new industries for
manufacturing our raw materials; in restoring the American flag to the
seas of the world; in extending our foreign trade; in opening and
operating inland waterways; in irrigating or draining our millions of
square miles of land now lying idle; in the development of Alaska, and the
harnessing of our great mines of "white coal"--water-power.

Our foreign trade requires men of this type to travel in all parts of the
world as commercial ambassadors, diligently collecting, compiling, and
sending back to the United States information necessary in manufacturing
goods for foreign consumption; also information regarding credits, prices,
shipping, packing--in short, complete and detailed knowledge about
commerce with foreign lands, how to secure it and how to hold it.

The world's greatest opportunities to-day, perhaps, lie within the grasp
of the men of this active type. Instead of pioneering in exploration, as
in former years, they are needed to pioneer in production. From the
earliest history of the race, these restless men have been faring westward
and ever westward, adding to the wealth and resources of humanity by
opening up new lands. But the crest of the westward moving tide has now
circumnavigated the globe, and the Far West meets the Far East on the
Pacific Ocean. Here and there are comparatively small, neglected tracts of
land still to be developed, but there are no longer great new empires, as
in former days. The great welling sources of human life have not ceased to
flow, even though the final boundaries of its spread have been reached.
Population will continue to grow and its demands upon the resources of the
earth to increase. The man who discovers a way to make a hundred bushels
of wheat grow on an acre of land where only twenty-five bushels grew
before is as great a benefactor of the race as the discoverer of a
continent. The invention of the electric light, the telephone, the
automobile, the trolley car, and the aeroplane have added as much to the
products and power of the race as the pioneering of thousands of square
miles of fertile hills and plains. The man who can find a cheap and easy
way to capture and hold nitrogen from the air will add more to the wealth
of the race than all the discoverers of all the gold mines.

America needs to find efficient and profitable methods for manufacturing
her own raw materials. Up to the present time, our exports have been coal,
petroleum, steel rails, wheat, corn, oats, lumber, and other products
which carry out of the country the riches of our soil. We have been
exporting raw materials to foreign lands, where they have been refined and
fabricated by brain and hand and returned to us at some five hundred to a
thousand times the price we received for them. With the increase of
population, we need to capitalize more and more the intelligence and skill
of our people, and less and less the virgin resources of our lands. Ore
beds, coal measures, copper, lead, gold and silver mines, forests, oil
wells, and the fertility of our soils can all become exhausted. But the
skill of our hands and the power of our intellects grow and increase and
yield larger and larger returns the more they are called upon to produce.

The man of bone and muscle--the restless, active, pioneering, constructing
man--would do well to consider these things before determining upon his
vocation, and especially before entering upon any kind of non-productive
work. The world has need of his particular talents and he should find his
greatest happiness and greatest success in the exercise of them in
response to that need.

We have seen so many men of this active type so badly placed that
individual examples seem almost too commonplace for citation. Yet, a few
may be instructive and encouraging.

William Carleton's remarkable story, entitled "Rediscovering America,"
is, in fact, the story of a man who was a middle-aged failure in a
clerical position, and who afterward made a remarkable success of his life
by taking up contracting and building. James Cook, a misfit as a grocer,
afterward became famous as a naval officer and explorer. Henry M. Stanley,
office boy to a cotton broker and merchant, afterward won immortal fame as
a newspaper correspondent and explorer. What would have become of Theodore
Roosevelt had he followed the usual line of occupation of a man in his
position and entered a law office instead of becoming a rancher? We might
add other experiences of similar importance from the biographies of other
great men.

DESCRIPTION OF ACTIVE TYPE

The active type of man is, of course, easily recognized. He has broad,
square shoulders, and is well muscled. He is either of the wiry, elastic,
exceedingly energetic type, with muscles like steel springs and sinews
like steel wire--very agile, very skillful, very quick, and somewhat jerky
in his movements--or he is tall, raw-boned, strong, enduring, graceful,
easy in his movements rather than quick, and yet with considerable manual
skill. Or he may be of the short, stocky type, with broad shoulders, short
neck, short arms, short legs, with big, round muscles and an immense
capacity for endurance. The railroads of the early days, in this country,
were built by Irishmen. They were either the large, raw-boned type or the
quick, agile, wiry type. The railroads, subways, and other construction
work of to-day are built mostly by Italians, Hungarians, Greeks, and
others from the south of Europe. These men are of short, stocky, sturdy,
and enduring build. As a general rule, they are far better fitted for this
class of work than the tall or medium-sized, large-boned or wiry type. As
an evidence of this, take notice of the fact that the Irishmen who built
the railroads in the sixties own and manage them to-day.

These active men usually have square faces. That is to say, there is a
good development of the outer corners of the lower jaw, which gives to the
face a square appearance. Oftentimes their cheek bones are both high and
wide. As a general rule, they have large aquiline or Roman noses. When
they are of the enduring type and capable of long-sustained muscular
activity, they have prominent chins. Their hands are square. Their feet
are large. If they have mechanical and constructive ability, as most of
them have, their foreheads are comparatively high and wide just above the
temple. Professional baseball players, professional dancers, middle-weight
and light-weight prize-fighters, most aviators, automobile racers, and
athletes belong to the wiry, springy, medium-sized type of this particular
class of men. U.S. Grant, Robert E. Peary, Henry M. Stanley, Ty Cobb and
Ralph DePalma belong to this type. Abraham Lincoln, W.E. Gladstone, Joseph
G. Cannon, William G. McAdoo, Woodrow Wilson, and other men of this build
belong to the raw-boned type. Napoleon Bonaparte, with his tremendous
activities on only four hours' sleep a day, is a good example of the
short, stocky type. While men of these types may make brilliant successes
in purely mental vocations, as the result of the development of their
intellects, and may keep themselves in a fair degree of health and
strength by games, exercise, mountain climbing, farming, or some such
avocation, they are, nevertheless, never quite so well satisfied as when
they have something to do which not only gives them opportunity for the
use of their intellects, but also involves a certain degree of physical
activity as a part of their regular work.

CHAPTER VII

SLAVES OF MACHINERY

To multitudes of men and women the lure of levers, cranks, wheels and
pinions is as seductive, as insidious, as heavenly in its promises, and as
hellish in its performances, as the opium habit. The craving for opium,
however, is an acquired taste, while the passion for machinery is born in
thousands. We have seen children, while yet in their baby-cabs, fascinated
by automobiles, sewing machines, and even little mechanical toys. We knew
a boy on a farm who built a fairly workable miniature threshing machine
with his own hands before he was old enough to speak the name of it in
anything but baby-talk. We have seen boys work in the broiling sun day
after day hoeing potatoes, pulling weeds, gathering crops, and doing other
hard jobs for small pay, carefully saving every penny to buy a toy steam
engine.

Parents usually look upon these evidences of mechanical ability with
pleasure. They regard them as sure indications of the vocation of the
child and oftentimes do everything in their power to encourage him in
these lines. They little realize, however, the supreme danger which
attaches to this very manifestation. Nor have they looked far enough ahead
to see what is, in so many cases, the lamentable result.

THE RESTLESS "MACHINE CRAZY" BOY

The boy of this type hates to sit quietly on a hard bench in a school and
study books. Some of the boys who went to school with us had imitation
levers and valve-handles fastened about their desks in an ingenious way,
and instead of studying, pretended that they were locomotive engineers.
With a careful eye upon the teacher, who was his semaphore, such a boy
would work the reverse lever, open and close the throttle, apply and
disengage the brakes, test the lubrication, and otherwise go through the
motions of running a locomotive with great seriousness and huge enjoyment.

These boys usually have considerable trouble with their teachers. They do
not like grammar, frequently do not care for geography and history. They
flounder dolefully in these studies and are in a state of more or less
continual rebellion and disgrace. Because of their intense activity and
restlessness, they irritate the teacher. She wants quiet in the
school-room. Their surreptitious playing, rapping and tapping on desks,
and other evidences of dammed-up energy and desire for more freedom and
more scope of action, interferes with the desired sanctity of silence.

Outside of school hours and during the long vacation, the fatal
fascination of machinery draws these young people to factories, railroad
yards, machine shops, and other places where they may indulge their fancy
and craving for mechanical motion. The boy who hangs around a machine shop
or railroad yard is always pressed into voluntary and delighted service by
those who work there. In a small town in Wisconsin we once knew a boy who
worked willingly and at the hardest kind of labor in a railroad yard for
years, voluntarily and without a cent of pay. In time he was entrusted
with a small responsibility and given a small salary. Even if the boy does
not begin in this way, the result is substantially the same. He may take
the bit in his teeth, leave school and go to work at some trade which will
give at least temporary satisfaction for his mechanical craving, or he
may, through economic necessity, be forced out of school and naturally
gravitate into a machine shop or factory. Oftentimes a few dollars a week
is a very welcome addition to the family income. To the boy himself,
three, four, five or six dollars a week seems like a fortune. Neither the
parents nor the boy look ahead. Neither of them sees that when the little
salary has increased to fifteen, sixteen, eighteen or twenty-five dollars
a week, the boy will have reached the zenith of his possibilities. There
will then be no further advancement, unless, during his apprenticeship and
journeymanship, or previously to them, he has secured mental training
which will enable him to go higher, hold more responsible positions and
earn larger pay.

"MAN OR MACHINE--WHICH?"

In former days, the boy who left school and took up employment in a
factory learned a trade. He became a shoe-maker, or a harness-maker, or a
wheelwright, or a gun-maker. To-day, however, the work on all of these
articles has been so subdivided that the boy perhaps becomes stranded in
front of a machine which does nothing but punch out the covers for tin
cans, or cut pieces of leather for the heels of shoes, or some other finer
operation in manufacture. Once he has mastered the comparatively simple
method of operating his particular machine, the boy is likely to remain
there for all time. His employer--perhaps short-sighted--has no desire to
advance him, because this would mean breaking in another boy to handle his
machine. Also, it would mean paying more money.

Al Priddy, in his illuminating book, "Man or Machine--Which?"[9] thus
describes the case of the slave to the machine:

[Footnote 9: The Pilgrim Press, Boston.]

"The workingman has been taught that his chief asset is skill. It has been
his stocks, his bonds, the pride of his life. Poor as to purse and
impoverished in his household; his cupboard bare, his last penny spent on
a bread crust, he is not humbled; no, he merely stretches out his ten
fingers and two callous palms, exactly as a proud king extends his
diamond-tipped sceptre, to show you that which upholds him in his
birthright. 'My skill is my portion given to the world,' he says. 'I shall
not want. See, I am without a penny. I touch this bar of steel, and it
becomes a scissors blade. My skill did it. I take this stick of oak and it
becomes a chair rung. My skill is the grandest magic on earth, the common
magic of every day. By it I live and because of it I hold my head royal
high.'

"But the machine now attacks and displaces this skill. The cunning of
trained fingers is transferred to cranks, cogs and belts. The trade
secrets are objectified in mechanical form; able to mix the product,
compound the chemicals, or make the notch at the right place.

"Besides this loss of skill, the workman loses, in the grind of the
machine, his sense of the value of his work. Next to his pride of skill
the workman has always been proud to be the connoisseur: stand back near
the light with his product on his upraised hand, showing to all passers-by
what he has done. Perhaps it was a red morocco slipper for a dancer, or a
pearl button to go on the cloak of a little child, or maybe it was a
horseshoe to go on the mayor's carriage horse. On a day a party of
visitors would come to the little shop and the owner would pick up a
hand-forged hammer and say, 'See what John made!' But, in our modern
industry, no one man ever completes a task. Each task is subdivided into
twenty, forty, a hundred or more portions, and a workingman is given just
one to work on, day by day, year after year, for a working generation.

"After the time has come when the workman can find no distinct esthetic
pleasure in his work, his loyalty to his employers suffers a shock.

"Then, when this indifference or disloyalty is full grown, the employer
has full on him acute and formidable labor diseases. The man who should
stand at his shoulder faces him, instead, with a hostile poise. The mill
full of people over whom he holds power, upon whom he depends for his
success, and who, in turn, depend upon his initiative and capital for
their bread and butter, is turned into an armed camp of plotting enemies,
who, while they work, grumble, and who, while they receive their wages,
scheme for the overthrow of the entire concern! His mills, instead of
being shelters for his brothers and sisters, are nests of scratching
eagles--ready to rend and claw!

"It is further given out that the machine robs man of his industrial
initiative; that the complicated and specialized machine decreases his
mental alertness. In addition to his skill and his appreciation of his
product, the workman has ever prized the appeal his labor has made to his
individual intelligence. His work has brought thinking power with it. His
day's task has included the excitement of invention and adventure. In the
heat and burden of the week has come that thrilling moment when his mind
has discovered the fact that a variation in method means a simplification
of his task. Or, in the monotonous on-going of his labor, he has suddenly
realized that by sheer brain power he has accomplished a third more work
than his neighbor. He has counted such results compliments to his
initiative, to his thinking power. They have brought a reward three times
more satisfying than a mere increase in wage, for, in his eyes, they have
been substantial testimonies to the freedom of his mind, something which
every reasonable person puts higher than any king's ransom. But the coming
of the machine deadens the workman's inclination toward inventive
adventure.

"So the multitude of men and women stand before the cunning machinery of
industry, in the pose of helplessness before a mechanical finality. They
cannot help feeling that in so far as their special task is involved, the
machine has said the last word. The challenge dies out of their work. The
brain that has ever been on the quiver of adventurous expectancy relaxes
its tension, and the workman moodily or indifferently lets his machine do
its perfect work, while his undisciplined, unchallenged thoughts wander
freely over external, social, or domestic concerns. It may give an
indolent, unambitious, selfish type of employee a certain amount of
satisfaction to know that the machine frees his mind of initiative, but to
the considerate workman it is a day of tragedy when his brain power
receives no challenge from his work, and that day has dawned in the minds
of millions of men who throng our industries.

"So, then, when this machine-robber, without heart or conscience, makes of
little repute the workman's most shining glory--skill; steals rudely from
him the esthetic pleasure in his product, and leaves him mentally crippled
before his work, how little force has that honored appeal, 'The dignity of
labor'! Talk as we will, in this machine-ridden time, the 'dignity of
labor' is but a skeleton of its former robust self. Take away the king's
throne, the courtier's carpet, the royal prerogative, and then speak about
'The Divine Right'! All that 'dignity of labor' can mean in these days is
simply that it is more dignified for a man to earn a wage than it is to be
a doorway loafer. The workingman's throne--skill--has gone. His
prerogative--skill--has been taken away. The items that have formerly
given dignity to labor have been largely displaced, so far as we have
adventured, by the machine, and the future holds out no other hope than
this, that machines shall more and more increase. There is little
'dignity' in a task that a man does which may be equally well done by his
fourteen-year-old boy or girl. There is little 'dignity' in a task which
less and less depends upon independent knowledge."

But must these workers remain always slaves of machine? Is there no escape
for them? Is there no "underground railroad" by which they may win their
way to freedom?

Here is what Al Priddy has to say about it:

"The most convincing way in which man may master the machine is when he
invents a new and better one, or improves an old one. This is the real
triumph of mind over matter, of skill over machinery.

"With all its arrogance among us, machinery is always final in itself;
incapable of change; incapable of progression or retrogression. Till the
clouds fade from the sky, or the earth cracks, a machine will remain the
same from the day of its creation until the day of its last whirl--unless
man says the word to change it. Once started on its mission, there is
nothing in the world can change the motion and purpose of a machine save
man's mind. So, then, whatever relation man might have toward a machine,
this stands sure: he will ever be able to stand before it and say: 'I am
thy master. I can change thee, make thee better or worse. I made thee. I
can unmake thee. If thou dost accomplish such mighty works, more honor to
the mind which conceived thee!"

"But it is suddenly discovered by an industrial diagnosis that the
machine has never been properly operated, even by the most skilled
operators. It has been proved that 'there is more science in the most
"unskilled" task than the man who performs it is capable of
understanding.' This dictum of Mr. Taylor, a practical experimenter, has
been dramatically proved in many directions. In the task of the sand
shoveler, or the iron lifter, for instance, it was proved that by
scientifically undertaking such work, fifty selected men, properly
drilled, scientifically rested, intelligently manoeuvred, could accomplish
a third more than one hundred ill selected and improperly managed men, in
less time and under a larger salary. It is suddenly found that, contrary
to theory, a machine, to be economically operated, leaves open man's
chance for skill and does not rob him of it."

Perhaps a few cases taken from our records will indicate how men of this
kind are able to come up from slavery and take successful places in their
true vocations.

FROM BOILER-ROOM TO CHIEF ENGINEER'S OFFICE

G---- manifested very early indications of the lure of machinery for him.
While yet in his cradle, he would play contentedly for hours with a little
pulley or other mechanical trifle. Before he was able to walk, he could
drive nails with a hammer sturdily and with more precision than many
adults. This also was one of his favorite amusements, and it was necessary
to keep him provided with lumber, lest he fill the furniture with nails.
As he grew older he became more and more interested in machinery and
mechanical things. He took to pieces the family clock and put it together
again. He nearly always had the sewing machine partly dismantled, but
could always put it together again, and it usually ran better after he had
finished his work. He built water-wheels, wind-mills, and other mechanical
toys. When he was about fourteen years old he built a steam engine. He
used a bicycle pump for the cylinder and pieces of an old sewing machine,
a discarded wringer, some brass wires, and other odds and ends for the
rest of the parts. So perfect mechanically was this product that when
steam was turned on it ran smoothly, and with very little noise, at the
rate of three thousand revolutions a minute. In this engine he employed a
form of valve motion which he had never seen, and which had never been
used before. While not particularly efficient, and therefore not a
valuable invention, it at least showed his ability to adapt means to ends
mechanically.

After G---- began earning money for himself by mechanical and electrical
work, he would go without luxuries, food and clothing, tramping to the
shop almost barefoot one entire winter, for the sake of buying tools and
equipment to carry on his mechanical experiments. It is not surprising,
therefore, that he left school at an early age to engage in actual work in
railroad shops. He afterward secured a position as a locomotive fireman.
Circumstances arose which made it necessary for him to give up
railroading. He secured a position as fireman on a stationary engine.

A HARD FIGHT FOR AN EDUCATION

It was while he was engaged in this kind of work that the suggestion was
made to him that he ought not to try to go through life with only the
rudiments of an education. It was pointed out that, while he had undoubted
mechanical and inventive ability, he would have small opportunity to use
it unless he also had the necessary technical and scientific knowledge to
go with it. At first his interest in mechanics was so intense and his
interest in school in general so comparatively slight, that he did not
look with very much favor upon the suggestion. However, as time went on
and he saw more and more of the results of such action as he was
contemplating, he became more and more interested in completing his
education. He therefore entered a good preparatory school and, with some
little assistance from relatives, worked his way through by doing
electrical and mechanical work about the little college town. In this kind
of work he soon became well known and was in constant requisition.
Occasionally his ingenuity and resourcefulness enabled him to do
successfully work which had puzzled and baffled even those who were
called experts. Having finished his preparatory course, he began a course
in mechanical and electrical engineering in one of the best known of our
universities. About this time practically all assistance from relatives
had been withdrawn, owing to changed circumstances, and he was left almost
entirely dependent upon his own efforts. The story of his struggles would
fill a volume. Oftentimes he was almost entirely without food. There was
one month during which he was unable to collect money due him for work
done. Because he was a poor university student he had no credit. So he
lived the entire month on $1.25. He thus explains how it was done:

LIVING A MONTH ON $1.25

"After visiting all of my clients trying to collect money, I came to the
conclusion that it would be useless to expect anything to come in to me
for at least thirty days. At this time I had $1.25 in my pocket. My room I
had paid for in advance by doing a piece of work for my landlord. I also
had about a cord of good oak wood which I had sawed and split and piled in
the hallway under the stairs. I had a little sheet-iron stove which I used
for both heating and cooking. I sat down and carefully figured out how I
could make my $1.25 feed me until I could collect the money due.
Twenty-five cents purchased three quarts of strained honey from a
bee-keeper friend of mine. The dollar I invested in hominy. Every morning,
when I first got up and built the fire, I put on a double boiler with as
much hominy as would cook in it. While it was cooking I sat down and
studied hard on my calculus. By the time I had got a pretty good hold of
the pot-hooks and the bird-tracks in the calculus lesson, the hominy would
be ready to eat. Hominy and honey is not a bad breakfast. While perhaps
you would like some variety, it is also fairly edible for lunch. If you
are very, very hungry, as a growing boy ought to be, and have been hard at
work putting up bell wires and arranging batteries, doubtless you would
rather eat hominy and honey for dinner than go without. The next morning
the combination doesn't taste quite so good, and by lunch time you are
beginning to wonder whether hominy and honey will satisfy all your
cravings. In the evening, however, you are quite sure that, in the absence
of anything else, you will have to have some hominy and honey in order to
keep yourself alive. By the end of the first week you feel that you can
never even hear the word hominy again without nausea and that you wish
never to look a bee in the face. By the end of the second week you have
become indifferent to the whole matter and simply take your hominy and
honey as a matter of course, trying to think nothing about it and
interesting yourself as much as possible in calculus, generator design,
strength of materials, and other things that an engineering student has to
study.

"The month finally passed. I felt as if I had eaten my way out of a
mountain of hominy and waded through a sea of honey. Collections began
coming in a little and I went and bought a beefsteak. You may have eaten
some palatable viands. I have myself partaken of meals that cost as much
as I made in a whole week's work in my school days. But let me assure you
that no one ever had a meal that tasted better than the beefsteak and
fried potatoes which finally broke the hominy and honey regime."

After this our young friend hired a little larger room, laid in a few
cheap dishes and cooking utensils and took two or three of his fellow
students to board. He did the marketing and the cooking and made them help
him wash the dishes. Two were engineering students and the third was a
student in the college of agriculture, all working their way through
college. A few cents saved was a memorable event in their lives. Our young
engineer furnished table board at $1.25 a week, and out of the $3.75 a
week paid him by his boarders was able to buy all of his own food as well
as theirs, and pay his room rent.

THE HARD FIGHT JUSTIFIED

After many troubles of this kind, G---- finished his engineering course
and secured a position in one of the largest corporations in the United
States at a salary of fifty dollars a month. At the time when he went to
work for the big corporation there were probably three or four hundred
other graduate engineers added to the staff. So keen was his mind along
mechanical and engineering lines, and so great were his natural aptitudes,
that within a few months his wages had been increased to $60 a month and
he had been given far more responsible work. Almost as soon as he took up
work with the corporation, he began making improvements in methods,
inventing machinery and other devices, and thinking out ways and means for
saving labor and making short cuts. Within a few weeks after his joining
the force he had invented a bit of apparatus which could be carried in the
coat pocket, and which took the place of a clumsy contrivance which
required a horse and wagon to carry it. In this way he saved the company
the price of horses, wagons, drivers, etc., on a great many operations.
From the very first the young man rose very much more rapidly than any of
the others who had entered the employ of the company at the time he did.
Soon he was occupying an executive position and directing the activities
of scores of men. To-day, only nine years after his leaving school, he
occupies one of the most important positions in the engineering department
of this great corporation, and while he does not have the title, performs
nearly all the duties of chief engineer.

The point of all this story is that this young man, while he had plenty of
mechanical ability and enjoyed machinery, was not fit to be a locomotive
fireman or stationary engine fireman. He had, in addition to his
mechanical sense and great skill in the use of his hands, a very keen,
wide-awake, energetic, ambitious, accurate intellectual equipment, which
did not find any adequate use in his work as a mechanic or fireman. Nor
could he ever have found expression for it unless he had taken the
initiative as a result of wise counsel and secured for himself the
necessary education and training. With all his ingenuity, he would always
have been more or less a slave to the machine to be operated unless he
had trained his mind to make him the master of thousands of machines and
of men.

FROM TURRET LATHE TO TREASURY

About eight years ago, while we were in St. Paul, Minnesota, a young
mechanic, J.F., came to us for consultation. He was about twenty years
old, and expressed himself as being dissatisfied with his work.

"I don't know just what is the matter with me," he said. "I have loved to
play with mechanical things. I was always building machinery and, when I
had an opportunity, hanging around machine shops and watching the men
work. On account of these things my father was very sure that I had
mechanical ability, and when I was fifteen years old took me out of school
and apprenticed me in a machine shop. This shop was partly devoted to the
manufacture of heavy machinery and partly to repairs of all kinds of
machinery and tools. I have now been at work in this shop for five years.
I am a journeyman mechanic and making good wages, and yet, somehow or
other, I feel that I am in the wrong place. I wish you could tell me what
is the matter with me."

After examining the young man and the data submitted, we made the
following report:

ANALYSIS OF AN EMBRYO FINANCIER

"While you have undoubted mechanical ability, this is a minor part of your
intellectual equipment. You are also qualified for commercial pursuits.
You have a good sense of values. You understand the value of a dollar even
now and you have natural aptitudes which, with proper training and
experience, will make you an excellent financier. You also have executive
ability. You like people and you like to deal with them. You like to
handle them, and because you enjoy handling people and negotiating with
them, you are successful in doing so. While you are fairly active
physically, you are very much more active mentally. Your work, therefore,
should be mental work, with a fair amount of light physical activity
mingled with it, instead of purely physical work. You ought to hold an
executive position and ought to have charge of thee finances of some
concern which is engaged in the building and selling of machinery. You
have worked, up to the present time, with heavy, coarse, crude machinery.
But you are of fine texture, refined type, and naturally have a desire to
work with that which is fine, delicate and beautiful--something into which
you can put some of your natural refinement and artistic ability. You are
still young. You have learned a trade at which you can earn fairly good
wages. You ought, therefore, to prepare yourself in some way for business.
Work during the summer, and then during the winter resume your studies,
preparing yourself for an executive position in connection with
manufacturing and selling fine machinery. Study accounting, banking,
finance, salesmanship, advertising, mechanical engineering and designing.
At the earliest possible moment give up your work in a machine shop where
heavy machinery is manufactured and begin to get some actual experience in
the manufacture of something finer and more artistic; for example, the
automobile."

A few years later, in Boston, a young man came to us, well dressed, happy,
and prosperous. He said he wished to consult us. After a few minutes' talk
with him, we said: "We have given you advice somewhere before. This is not
the first time you have consulted us." He smiled, and said: "Yes. I
consulted you in St. Paul, some years ago. At that time you advised me to
secure an executive position in the automobile business. This advice
struck me at the time as being wise, and satisfied my own desires and
ambitions. I lost no time in following your directions and was soon
engaged as a mechanic in an automobile factory. I attended night-school at
first, but finally made arrangements to spend half my time in school and
the other half in the factory, learning every part of the business. At the
present time I am the vice-president and treasurer of the ---- Motor
Company, and one of the designers of the ---- Motor Car. We are doing an
excellent business and making money. Whereas I was certainly misfit in my
old job, I am well and happily placed since I have learned my true
vocation."

EVOLUTION OF AN ELECTRICAL ENGINEER

D.B., of Chicago, was a young man admirably endowed with mechanical
ability. From his earliest years he was especially interested in matters
electrical. His father told us that he always had dry-cell and other
batteries around the house. He used to try to make magnetos out of
horseshoe magnets, and at one time attempted to build a dynamo. When he
was sixteen years of age, having finished grammar school and having had
one or two years of high school training, young B. became so ambitious to
get into electrical work that his father, thinking that he was intended
for exactly this vocation, consented to his leaving high school and taking
a position as assistant to the linemen of a telephone company. He worked
at this a year or two, and finally became a full-fledged lineman. He did
well as a lineman and after a year or so attracted the attention of an
electric light and power company, who enticed him away from the telephone
company and gave him charge of poles and wires in a residential district.
Here his unusual ingenuity and quickness soon became so manifest that he
was taken off the outside and placed in charge of a gang of men wiring
houses and installing electric fixtures. This was a pretty good job for a
young fellow and paid good wages; at least, the wages seemed quite large
to young B. at the time. By this time, however, he was twenty-one and
decided to marry. He needed more money.

GETTING HIS BEARINGS

He had a long talk with a very kind and wise advisor, who finally said to
him: "See here, B., you have abilities that ought to be put to use at
something better than stringing wires and hanging bells."

"Why, I am a foreman now," said B.

"Yes, I know you are a foreman, but who plans all the work you do?"

"Why, the Super."

"Yes, the Super hands the plans down to you, but who plans the work for
him?"

"Why, the Chief."

"Now, look here; the Chief comes to his office at ten o'clock in the
morning. He uses his head until noon. He leaves at noon, and perhaps he
doesn't come back until two or three o'clock. He uses his head then until
five or, sometimes, until four; then he goes off to play golf. But as the
result of those few hours' use of the Chief's head, the Superintendent,
and you six or eight foremen, and all the two hundred men under your
direction work a whole day or a week, or even a month, as you know. You
are merely carrying out in a mechanical, routine kind of a way the
thoughts and ideas that another man thinks. Now, you have the ability to
think for yourself."

"I could think for myself," said he, "but I can't do all the figuring that
is necessary in order to decide just what size wire should go here, and
what kind of equipment should go there, and all the different things.
That's beyond me."

"Yes, it is beyond you now, but it doesn't need to be beyond you. You have
the mental ability to learn to use those formulae just as well as the
Chief does. The thing necessary is for you to learn how to do it, to get
needful education. Now, you are young, and you're strong, and you've got
lots of time before you. If you want to make more money, the way to do it
is to learn to use your head and save weeks, months of time, as well as
the labor of your hands."

"If I went off to college or university for two or three years, I don't
think Bessie would wait for me," said he. "She wants to get married. I
want to, too, and I think we ought to do it."

AN EDUCATION BY CORRESPONDENCE

"Well," said his counselor, "you don't need to go off to school. You can
take electrical engineering in a correspondence course, even after you are
married. You're making good wages now as a foreman. Your hours of work are
only eight a day, and you have plenty of time in the evenings and on
holidays and other times to study this subject. Besides, you will probably
make better progress studying it while you work at the trade than you
would in school and withdrawn from the practical applications of the
principles that you are learning."

The result of all this was that D.B. did take a correspondence course in
electrical engineering. It was pretty tough work. He had not studied for
years. One of the first things he had to learn was how to study; how to
concentrate; how to learn the things he had to know without tremendous
waste of energy. After a little while he learned how to study. Then he
progressed, a little at a time, with the intricate and complicated
mathematics of the profession he had determined to make his own. Again and
again he was puzzled, perplexed, and almost defeated. But his young wife
encouraged him, and when things got so bad that he thought he would have
to give it all up, he would go and talk with his counselor, who would
inspire him with new ambition, so that he would go to work again. So,
month after month, year after year, he struggled away with his
correspondence course in electrical engineering. Little by little, he got
hold of the technical knowledge necessary for professional engineering
work.

A VICTORY FOR THE CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL GRADUATE

At first he was greatly handicapped by the prejudice of some of his
superiors against correspondence school courses, which were very much
newer at that time than they are now and regarded as much more of an
experiment. His superiors were graduates of universities and looked down
with contempt upon any merely "practical" man who tried to qualify as an
engineer by studying at home at night and without the personal oversight
of authorities in a university. But D.B. was dogged in his persistence.
Missing no opportunities to improve and advance himself, he was,
nevertheless, respectful and diplomatic. And he repeatedly demonstrated
his grasp of the subject. Eventually he was promoted to the position of
superintendent of the electric light and power company. There was only
one man then between him and the desired goal, namely, the chief engineer.

At the time B. became superintendent the chief engineer was a young
university graduate, and was perhaps a little too egotistical and dogmatic
on account of his degree and honors. Soon after B. took charge as
superintendent, the company decided to build a new central power station.
The design was left to the young chief engineer, and the practical work of
carrying it out to our friend. When, finally, the design was complete and
passed on to D.B. for execution, he felt that it was defective in several
ways. He spent several nights of hard study on it and became convinced
that he was right. He therefore took the whole matter to his superior and
tried to explain to him how the design was defective.

"I made that plan, and it is right," said the chief engineer. "Your
business isn't to criticize the plan, but to go ahead and carry it out.
Now, I don't care to hear any more about it."

"But," said B., "if we carry out this plan the way it stands, it will mean
the investment on the part of the company of something like $35,000 which
will be practically dead loss. I can't conscientiously go to work and
carry out this plan as it stands. I am sure if you will go over it again
carefully, pay attention to my suggestions, and consult the proper
authorities, you will find that I am right."

"That's what comes of studying a correspondence course," said the chief.
"You get a little smattering of knowledge into your head. Part of it is
worth while, and part of it is purely theoretical and useless, and because
you have had some practical experience, you imagine you know it all. Now,
you have lots yet to learn, B., and I am willing to help you, but I want
to tell you that that plan and those specifications are technically
correct, and all you need to do is to go ahead and carry them out. I'll
take the responsibility."

"Very well," said B., "if you want those plans and specifications carried
out as they are, you can get someone else to do it. I would rather resign
than to superintend this job which I know to be technically wrong."

His resignation had to be passed upon by the general manager, who, before
accepting it, sent for him.

"What's the trouble, B.?" said he. "I thought you were getting along fine.
We like your work, and we thought you liked the company. Why do you want
to leave?"

"I don't like to say anything about it, Mr. Jones," said B., "but the
plans passed on to me to carry out in the construction of that new
power-house down in Elm Street are technically wrong. They mean an
expenditure of $35,000 along certain lines which will be pretty nearly a
dead loss. When you come to try to use your equipment there, you will find
that it all has to be taken out and replaced by the proper materials.

"Suppose you get the plans, B., and show them to me, and explain just what
you mean," said the general manager, who was also a professional engineer
of many years' successful experience.

So B. produced the plans and explained his proposition.

"Why, of course you are right," said the general manager. "I'm surprised
that Mr. F. should have thought for a moment that he could use that type."

The result was that B. was reinstated and the chief engineer reprimanded.
Stung by his reprimand and angered because the correspondence school
graduate had bested him, the chief engineer resigned. His resignation was
accepted and B. became chief engineer of the company. Later, he was
promoted to the position of chief engineer of an even larger corporation,
and, finally, occupied an executive position as managing engineer for a
municipal light and power plant in one of the large cities of the country.

THE GENESIS OF AN INVENTOR

Some years ago we spent a few months in a very comfortable and homelike
hotel in one of the largest cities in the Middle West. Down in a nook of
the basement of this hotel was a private electric light plant. In charge
of the plant was an old Scotch engineer delightful for his wise sayings
and quaint philosophy. The fireman, a young man named T., was rather a
puzzle to us. He had all the marks of unusual mechanical ability, and yet
he seemed to take only the slightest interest in his work, and was
constantly being reproved by his chief for laziness, irresponsibility, and
neglect of duty. "What's the use?" he asked us, after we gained his
confidence, and had asked him why he did not take greater interest in his
work. "What's the use? After years of experience shoveling coal into a
firebox and monkeying around these old grease pots, I suppose I might get
an engineer's certificate. Then what would I be? Why, just like old Mack
there--$75 to $100 a month, sitting around a hot, close basement twelve
hours a day or, perhaps, twelve hours at night, nothing to look forward
to, no further advancement, no more pay, and, finally, T.B. would carry me
off because of the lack of fresh air, sunshine and outdoor exercise. No,
thank you!"

"Well, then, why don't you do something else?"

"I don't know what to do. I like mechanics, and some job of this kind is
the only thing I know how to do or would care to do. Yet, I don't care for
this. I must confess that I am puzzled as to what in the world I was made
for, anyhow."

"What you need is to give your time and attention to the intellectual side
of engineering rather than the purely mechanical and physical. You are of
the intellectual type, and you are as badly placed trying to do mere
mechanical work as if you were an eagle trying to cross the country on
foot."

"I believe you are right in that. I am going to get an education."

AMBITION, INDUSTRY, AND PERSISTENCE

He began at once with correspondence courses in mechanical and electrical
engineering. Twelve hours a day he shoveled coal in his basement
boiler-room. Some four to eight hours a day he studied in his little room
up under the roof. It takes an immense amount of courage, persistence, and
perseverance to complete a correspondence course in engineering, as anyone
who has tried it well knows. There is lacking any inspiration from the
personality and skill of a teacher. There is no spur to endeavor from
association with other students doing the same kind of work and striving
for the same degree. There are no glee clubs, athletic games,
fraternities, prizes, scholarships, and other aids to the imagination and
ambition, such as are found in a university. It is all hard, lonely work.
But what the student learns, he knows. And, somehow, he gains a great
knack for the practical use of his knowledge. Night after night T. toiled
away, until he had finished his course and secured his certificate of
graduation.

By this time T.'s ambition began to assume a definite form. He was
determined that he should have the honor and the emoluments which would
come to him as a result of solving one of the toughest problems in
engineering--one which had puzzled both technical and practical men for
many years. He therefore saved up a few dollars and, packing his little
belongings, departed to complete his education in one of the most famous
technical engineering schools of the country. Tuition was high. Board cost
a good deal of money. Books were distressingly expensive. Tools, machine
shop fees, and other incidentals ate into the little store he had brought
with him, and inside of two months it was gone. He hunted around and
finally secured a job running an engine. This meant twelve hours in the
engine room every night. In addition, he did what other students
considered a full day's work attending lectures and carrying on his
studies in the laboratories and classroom. He went almost without
necessary food and clothing in order to buy books, tools, and other
equipment. But he was young, he was strong, and, above all, he was happy
in his mental picture of the great object of his ambition. In due time he
had taken his degree, having specialized on all subjects bearing upon the
solution of his great problem.

PATIENT TOIL HIS GENIUS

Coming back from the university after having finished his course, T. found
a position as engineer in an electric light and power plant. Then he began
saving up money to purchase the necessary equipment for a laboratory of
his own. Finally, he had a little building and was one of the proudest
young men we ever saw. Little by little, he added to his apparatus the
things he needed. Several nights a week, after his hard day's work in the
engine room, he toiled, trying to solve the problem upon which he had
fixed his mind. About this time he married, and he and his wife moved into
a narrow little flat. Years passed, children came into the little flat,
and still he worked at his problem. Again and again, and still again, he
failed. Yet, each time he failed, he told us he was coming closer to the
solution. At last came the day, after many heart-breaking experiences,
when the problem, while not fully solved, had at least revealed a solution
which was commercially valuable.

His years of self-denial and toil seemed to be about to end in success.
But he found that he had only begun another long period of discouraging
and almost desperate work. It was a struggle to scrape together the
necessary funds for securing a patent. If he was to complete and perfect
his invention, he must have more capital. So, with his model, he made the
rounds of manufacturers of engines, manufacturers who used engines,
railroads, steamboat companies, electric light and power companies; in
fact, everywhere he thought he might get some encouragement and financial
assistance. His little family was living on short rations. He himself had
not eaten as he ought for years. One after another, the men in authority
said: "Yes, your proposition looks good, but I don't think it can ever be
made practical. Some of the brightest men in the engineering profession
have spent years trying to solve that problem, and have not found the
answer to it. I do not believe that it will ever be found. You seem to
have come near it, but yet you have not found it, and we cannot see our
way clear to put any money into it."

REAPING HIS REWARD

T. argued, pleaded, and demanded an opportunity for a demonstration, but
all in vain. Then, one day, a lawyer, who had been consulted by T., said:
"I have no money to invest in anything myself, but I'll tell you frankly
and honestly, it looks good to me. Now, I happen to be on very good terms
with Mr. J. over at the T. & B. Company. He has been interested in this
problem for years and has worked along toward its solution. He understands
every phase of it, and I believe he will do something with your device.
Unless I am mistaken, he will be interested in it, and will give you an
opportunity to demonstrate it. If your demonstration works out as well as
you think it will, he has the authority to put you in a position where you
can go ahead and perfect it if it is perfectible. I will give you a letter
of introduction to him." And thus began T.'s prosperity. He now lives in a
beautiful home on a wide boulevard. His invention, still short of
perfection, but highly valuable, is coming slowly into use, and would
probably be in very widespread use were it not for the fact that he is
constantly working on it, perfecting it, improving it, and hoping finally
to have a complete solution to the problem.

CHAPTER VIII

THE IMPRACTICAL MAN

"My life is a failure," wrote Sydney Williams to us, "and I do not know
why."

In middle life my grandfather Williams moved his family across the Potomac
River from Virginia in order to study to enter the ministry. He is said to
have freed some slaves at that time, so he must have been a 'planter,' He
became a Congregational minister. My grandfather Jacobs was a carpenter;
but, as I knew him, and for some years before my birth, he was a helpless
invalid from paralysis on one side.

My father graduated from college and then became a minister. He preached
for many years, then he took up work with a religious publishing house,
finally having charge of the work at St. Paul. He was there, I believe,
when he was elected president of a small school for girls. He assumed his
new duties in June and I was born the following November. (I am the
youngest of eleven children, of whom there are now three boys and five
girls still living, three boys having died while still babies before my
birth.)

Until I was nearly twelve years old we lived at the girls' school, which
father succeeded in greatly enlarging. Mother taught me to read a little
and write a little. She and others read to me a great deal. I had no
playmates except my nephews and nieces, to whom I was continually being
pointed out as a 'model.' Out of the sight of the grown-ups, I was not
always such a model as they could have wished; yet I did feel a certain
amount of responsibility that was oppressive and repressive. When nearly
eleven, I was sent to the public school, where I was soon promoted with
two others. The next year father and mother moved into a larger town, so
that I had a few months of real home life before my father's death in
April, 1893.

Then my mother, her mother, and I went to Wisconsin to live with a
married sister of mine whose husband was the Presbyterian minister there.
I entered the fourth grade of the public school that fall; but, by the end
of the school year, I had completed the fifth grade.

My mother died in May, 1896. I continued to live with my sister. Finished
the seventh grade that June, but entered preparatory school that fall. In
November, 1897, my brother-in-law moved to Iowa, and I made the mistake of
deciding to go with him. While living in Wisconsin, I had become
acquainted with a fine lot of boys. One of them organized a small military
company; I was elected quarter-master and, later, lieutenant. I now know
that that was because we were considered 'rich,' Also in Wisconsin I
overcame some of my extreme bashfulness in regard to girls, derived from
babyhood experiences. In fact, one reason I decided to leave Wisconsin was
the fear that the friendship with one girl might become too serious; I was
beginning to shun responsibility.

ATTAINMENTS IN SCHOLARSHIP

In Iowa I entered the high school and completed the tenth grade the next
June (1898). My elder brother was my official guardian and he wanted me to
make a change. As a result, in September, 1898, I had my first experience
of being away alone by entering a famous academy. There I earned the
reputation of being a 'grind,' and graduated second in my class in June,
1901. While there I went out for football, and made the third team and
even played once on the second. My poor eyesight hindered me somewhat, but
still more the fact that I was not eager to fall down on the ball on the
hard ground when it did not seem to me necessary. I was quite ready to get
hurt, if there was any reason for it. That, too, was a mistake on my part.

That September I entered Harvard University. My father had left some
insurance, and mother left some of it to me for a college education. She
expected, as did my sisters and brothers, that I would become a minister.
By the end of my Freshman year I had decided that I could not do so, but
from that time I was unable to decide what I did want to do or could do.
Consequently I did not get the good out of a college education that I
might have. Moreover, though I stood fairly well in most of my classes, I
did not always understand the subjects as well as the professors thought I
did. As soon as it became possible to elect subjects, I dropped Latin,
Greek, and German, and specialized in history, economics, etc. I graduated
'Cum Laude,' But that was really a failure, considering what I might have
done.

But I did well enough to receive recommendation for a $500 fellowship that
enabled me to return for another year. I did work which caused me to be
recommended for an A.M. degree. But I felt that I had so little in
comparison with others, that I was actually ashamed to receive it.
Socially, however, that extra year was a very delightful one for me.

During two summers as an undergraduate, I worked at Nantasket Beach
selling tickets in the bathing pavilion for $50 a month, besides room and
board. I made good, much to the surprise of the superintendent.

HUNTING A JOB

So then I was finally through college in June, 1906. It is almost
incredible how very childlike I still was, so far as my attitude toward
the world was concerned. I had high ideals, and I wanted to get into
business, but where or how I did not know. Moreover, my money was gone. A
student gave me a note with which I intended to get his previous summer's
job as a starter on an electric car line owned by a railway company. The
position was abolished, however, so I became a conductor on a suburban
line. Unfortunately, my motorman was a high-strung, nervous Irishman, who
made me so nervous that I often could not give the signals properly, and
who made life generally unpleasant for me. He professed a liking for me
and did prevent one or two serious accidents. At the same time, he said I
was the first 'square' conductor he had ever worked with, and, no doubt,
he missed his 'extra,' After three weeks of him, and of the general
public's idea that I must, of course, be knocking down fares, I resigned.
However, the superintendent offered me a job as 'inspector' of registers
on the main line, a job that he was just creating. When the rush was over
after Labor Day, I was again out of a job. I might have secured a
clerkship with the railway company, but I was foolish enough not to try.

A few weeks later found me established in the district office of a
correspondence school not very far from New York City as a representative.
At first I gave good promise of success, but I lost my enthusiasm and
belief in the school and became ashamed to be numbered as one of its
workers because of the character of most of the local field force at that
time and before my time. The reputation of the school in that place was
not very good. Also I was not successful in collecting the monthly
payments from those who had hard luck stories or had been lied to by the
man who had enrolled them. By the end of two months I was ready to quit,
but my immediate superior begged me to stay, in order to keep him from
having to break in a new man just then. At the end of about four months I
did resign to save being kicked out. Mind you, I was to blame, all right;
for I had given up a real continuous effort beyond the merest routine and
the attempt to collect the monthly payments. While I was there I did write
a few contracts, among them a cash one amounting to $80. But, toward the
end, my lack of success was due to my utter disgust with myself for being
so blamed poor and for shirking.

AN ATTEMPT IN ORANGE CULTURE

Going back to a brother in New York, I tried to land a job, but, of
course, in such a state of mind, I could not. Then I went to my older
brother in Cincinnati, where he was, and is, the pastor of a large church.
Unfortunately, he did not take me by the back of the neck and kick me into
some kind of work, any kind. At last, in March, 1908, he helped me to come
out West. I landed in Los Angeles, and indirectly through a friend of his
I secured a job on an orange ranch in the San Gabriel Valley, which I held
until the end of the season. Once more I was happy and contented. It was
certainly a pleasure to work.

That fall, or rather winter (1908), I secured a place near San Diego,
where I had shelter and food during the winters and small wages during the
active seasons in return for doing the chores and other work.

I had become possessed with a desire for an orange grove, and refused to
consider how much it would take to develop one. I was finally able to
secure a small tract of unimproved land. But I found that the task of
clearing it would be too great for me because of the great trees, so for
this and other reasons I snatched at a chance to file on a homestead in
the Imperial Valley. This was in May, 1910. Later that summer I was able
to sell my piece of land near San Diego at a profit, so that in September
I went over to get settled on my homestead. I employed a fellow to help me
make a wagon trail for a mile or more and to build my cabin for me. I
moved in the first of November. Early in 1912 I decided it would be
impossible to irrigate enough land there to make a living at that time.
Also the difficulties of living alone so far out in the desert were
greater than I had anticipated. With the help of a friend, I was able to
make final proof in July and pay the government for the 160 acres, instead
of having to continue to live on it. I did stay, however, until the
general election in 1912.

AT WORK IN A SURVEYING CREW

Then I went to Los Angeles to get something to do. The town was full of
people seeking work, as usual, most of whom could present better records
than I could. To be sure, my friends and even my old correspondence school
boss gave me splendid recommendations, but I felt my lack of business
training and feared that 999 out of any 1,000 employers would not take a
chance with me on such a record as I had. Consequently I did not try very
hard. For a while I was with a real estate firm trying to secure
applications for a mortgage. The commission was $25, but, naturally, that
did not go far toward expenses. It was not long before I was in a bad
mental condition again through worrying, self-condemnation, and
uncertainty. It would not have been difficult to prove that I was
'insane.'

Finally an acquaintance of mine, a prominent lawyer, took up my case. He
has a good personal and business friend who is the general manager of a
large oil company with headquarters here in Bakersfield. When first
appealed to, this gentleman refused point blank, because he had a bad
opinion of college graduates in general (I really don't blame him or other
business men); but the lawyer used his influence to the utmost with the
result that I came up here in March, 1913, and was sent up into the oil
fields. I was put under the civil engineer, and for two months I was sort
of 'inspector' and 'force account' man in connection with the building of
a supply railroad, but I gradually worked into the regular surveying crew,
first as substitute rear chainman, and then as the regular one. Before
long I was head chainman. I could have remained a chainman with the same
crew to this time, but I left a little over a year ago, as there once more
seemed a chance to earn a place in the country.

ANOTHER ATTEMPT AT ORANGE CULTURE

A young fellow, now located near Bakersfield, whom I had known in San
Diego, told me great tales that I was too anxious to believe, and finally
made some fine promises to help me get a piece of what he said was his
land and to bring it to a productive state. But when I reached his place,
in February, he was not ready, willing or able to carry out his promises.
He kept me hanging on, however, and as I had used up my savings in a
month's attendance at the short course of the State agricultural college
and in bringing my goods from Bakersfield, I was compelled to get work
from him as one of his orchard gang. I helped to set out several hundred
trees and berry plants, and later knew what it meant to hoe for ten hours
a day. I left him the latter part of July in order to work out a scheme I
had thought of.

[Illustration: FIG. 25. "Sydney Williams." For analysis see pages 206 to
210. Here is a fine, capable intellect, good sense of humor, optimism,
cheerfulness, great refinement, and excellent critical powers in art and
literature. But there is a deficiency of practicability. Note smallness
and flatness of brows, narrowness of head just above the ears, fineness of
features and height of head in center, above temples.]

[Illustration: FIG. 26. "Sydney Williams." Note flatness of brows;
smallness and fineness of features; fineness of texture; height of
forehead and crown.]

[Illustration: FIG. 27. Prof. Adolf von Menzel, Sociologist. A man of
great intellect, especially interested in theoretical and statistical
studies of people, in the mass, but not greatly interested in practical,
material affairs. Note immense dome of forehead and head, with flatness at
brows.]

[Illustration: FIG. 28. Edgar Allan Poe, Poet. Impractical, deficient in
financial sense, but keenly alive to a world of fancy, ideals, dreams,
imagery, beauty, mysticism and tragedy. Note high forehead, wide above,
flat at brows and concave at sides; small nose and mouth, deep-set, gloomy
eyes; dark complexion; and lack of symmetry and balance in head and
features.]

[Illustration: FIG. 29. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Author. Highly
intellectual, sentimental, impractical, sensitive, emotional. A man of
high ideals and beautiful thoughts, and creative power. Note high,
dome-shaped head; flat, high brows, fine, delicate features; weak mouth,
and general softness of contour and expression.]

[Illustration: _Copyright by Harper & Brothers, N. Y_.
FIG. 30. Thomas De Quincy, Author. A man of fine, discriminating, logical
intellect along purely mental lines, but impractical in material affairs.
Note high, prominent forehead, with flat, poorly-developed brows, weak
nose and mouth and narrow head.]

[Illustration: FIG. 31. O. Henry, at the age of thirty. Impractical,
lacking in desire for money and financial judgment. Creative, humorous, a
lover of human nature, mild, rather easy-going, idealistic, constant. Note
high forehead, flat at brows, full at sides along top, concave nose, full
lips, prominent chin.]

[Illustration: FIG. 32. Edwin Reynolds, of Wisconsin. Of the practical,
matter-of-fact, literal type of intellect. Interested in facts, keenly
observant, quick in thought, alert and positive in his mental activities.
Note high, sloping forehead, very prominent at the brows, large nose, high
in the bridge and well-developed.]

"The first part of September I moved back to Bakersfield. I tried out my
scheme by mail on two of the most prominent men in the country (one of the
times when I had plenty of nerve). It did not work and the time did not
seem auspicious for trying it on a greater number, especially as I did not
have money enough to do it properly.

"While still working for the orchard man, I began to do some work in
getting subscriptions for the Curtis publications. I did get a few. Later,
about the middle of October, I went to Los Angeles, where I had a booth at
an exhibition for three weeks in the interest of a publishing house. But
it did not pay expenses, and I was deeper in debt than ever. I landed in
Bakersfield nearly 'broke.' Thanks to the kindness of the people where I
roomed and boarded, I was able to pull through until I obtained a loan
last week, secured by a mortgage on my homestead.

"I was entirely unable to force myself to do any real canvassing while I
was absolutely in need of each commission, but, now that I once more have
a bank account, I hope to make myself keep at it until I can feel
moderately successful. That is the one job I have fallen down on over and
over (I have not even mentioned many of the attempts), and I believe I
could be a real salesman if I could only get over my fear of approaching
people on any proposition of immediate profit to me."

Here we have in detail the old, old story. How often have you heard of the
man who graduated with high honors at the head of his class and was unable
to make a living afterward? How many men of highest scholarship have you
met who could not make a living for themselves and their families? Not
long ago we were offered the services of a man who had degrees from
several universities in America and Europe, who was master of several
languages, and who was glad to offer to do a little translating at
twenty-five cents an hour.

AN ANALYSIS OF SYDNEY WILLIAMS

What handicaps these men? They have good intellects, or they would be
unable to win high honors in colleges and universities. It is fitting that
they should educate themselves highly, since they are so capable of
attainment in scholarship. Surely, they ought to do some intellectual work
of some kind, because they are not fitted for manual labor. Where do they
belong? What is their particular type? What opportunities are there for
their unquestioned talents?

Here is what we wrote to Sydney Williams:

"From photographs and data submitted, I should judge your type of
organization, character and aptitudes to be as follows:

"You have inherited only a fairly good physical constitution. You will
always need to take care of yourself, but there is absolutely no reason
why you should worry in regard to your health.

"Under stress and strain your nervous system may give you trouble, and
there may be some tendency to digestive disturbances, but if you will
practice moderation, live on a well-balanced and sensibly selected diet,
and keep yourself from extremes of every kind you will probably maintain
very fair health and strength for many years.

"Intellectually you have a good, active mind of the theoretical type. Your
mind is quick to grasp theories, ideals, abstractions, and such intangible
and purely mental concepts. Your imagination is active, and is inclined to
run away with plans, schemes, and inventions, with speculations and with
visions of future prospects. However, your plans and inventions are liable
to be purely along mental and intellectual lines, rather than practical.

"You do not observe well. You are a little too careless in regard to your
facts. You therefore have a tendency to go ahead with your theories and
your plans upon insufficient data or upon data which are not accurate
because they have not been properly verified.

"This deficiency in observation also handicaps you, because you do not
see things in their right relation, and your judgment is, therefore,
liable to be erratic and unsound.

"You should compel yourself to get the facts. You should suspend judgment
until you have made sure that all of the premises from which you argue to
your conclusions are sound and accurate. Take nothing for granted. Compel
yourself to stick to the facts. Not only ask yourself the question, 'Will
it work?' but make sure that the affirmative answer is absolutely accurate
before you go ahead.

"Many of your characteristics are those of immaturity, notwithstanding
your years, your education, and your experience. You still retain many
youthful tendencies. You are inclined to be impulsive. You are very
responsive emotionally, and when your emotions are aroused you are prone
to decide important matters without reference to facts, reason, and logic.
Another very youthful characteristic in you is your tendency to be
headstrong, wilful, stubborn, and opinionated. When you have arrived at
one of your swift conclusions you find it very difficult to take advice.
Even when you do listen to what others say, you do not listen well. Your
mind jumps ahead to conclusions that are erroneous and which were never in
the mind of the person giving you the advice.

"As you can readily see, it is this inability to get competent counsel
from others, coupled with your own lack of observation and lack of
deliberation, that leads you into so many situations that turn out to be
undesirable. Here, again, you need to go more slowly, to act more
according to your knowledge and less according to impulse, to make sure
that you understand what other people say, especially when seeking for
advice. As a result of your rather emotional character, you are liable to
go to extremes and do erratic things, to be over-zealous for a short
period; also, at times, to be high tempered, although your temper quickly
evaporates. In all of these things you will see the need for cultivation
of more self-control, more poise, more calmness, more maturity of thought,
speech, and action.

"You are very idealistic. Your standards are high. You naturally expect
much. It is your hope always, when making a change, that you will get into
something which will more nearly approach perfection than the thing you
are leaving.

"But you are also critical. Indeed, you are inclined to be hypercritical,
to find too much fault, to see too many flaws and failures. For this
reason, nothing ever measures up to your ideals--you are always being
disappointed.

"You need to cultivate far more courage. By this I mean the courage which
hangs on, which meets obstacles, which overcomes difficulties, which
persists through disagreeable situations. Your impulsiveness leads you
into plenty of things, but you are so hypercritical, and you become so
easily discouraged when eventualities do not measure up to your ideals,
that you fail to finish that which you start.

"Naturally, of course, if you were to be more deliberate and more careful
in forming your judgments, you would find things more nearly ideal after
you got into them. Then, if you would stick to them, you could make a much
greater success of them.

"Your intention to be honest, is, no doubt, above reproach. However, your
conduct or the results may at times be equivalent to dishonesty, being so
regarded by others. This, of course, is the result of your immaturity,
your impulsiveness, and your tendency not to see things through.

"You are very keenly sensitive. With your great love of beauty and
refinement, anything which is coarse, crude, and ugly in your environment
is very depressing to you. You also find it difficult to associate happily
with those who are coarse and crude by nature. Unquestionably, such people
frequently hurt you cruelly when they have no intention of doing so. It
would be well if you would learn to accept other people for what they are
worth, rather than being so critical of them and so easily hurt. Praise
and blame are usually meant impersonally and should be so received. In
other words, people praise or blame the deed and not the doer.

"Your appreciation of financial and commercial values and methods is
deficient. This is due to many different things, but principally to your
lack of observation, your inability to see things in their right
relations, and your limited sense of values. For these reasons you are not
and cannot become vitally interested in financial and commercial affairs.
If your wants were supplied, and you had something interesting to do,
money would receive practically no consideration from you. For your own
sake, you ought to attach more importance to monetary considerations,
cultivate a greater sense of values, develop more practical commercial
sense. On the other hand, however, you should not attempt any vocation in
which a high development of these qualities is necessary.

"In practical affairs, you show a tendency not to learn by experience.
This is because of deficiency in your observation of facts. You do not
really understand the essential facts of the experiences through which you
pass, and, therefore, they do not impress or teach you.

"In your choice of a vocation you should make up your mind once for all
that, on account of the qualities I have described, you are not commercial
or financial, and, therefore, you do not belong in the industrial or
commercial world. Your talents are educational, dramatic, professional,
literary. You are decidedly of the mental type. Your world is a mental
world, an intellectual world. Ideas, ideals, and theories are the things
with which you can deal most successfully.

"Owing to your distaste for detail, and the difficulty you have in
applying yourself to a task until it is finished, and also on account of
your very keen and sensitive critical faculties, you are probably better
fitted for success as a critic than as a producer.

"A position in a house publishing books and magazines, where your duty
would be to read, analyze, and criticise manuscripts, would offer you far
better opportunities than anything you have yet attempted.

"You could probably do well in a mail-order house as correspondent.

"You also have some dramatic ability which, if developed and trained,
might make you a success, either on the stage or in the pulpit. In this
connection, I merely call your attention, in passing, to the
opportunities in the motion picture drama. Here is where dramatic ability
is everything and the heavier demands upon the actor in the ordinary
drama, especially in the way of physical development, voice, etc., do not
enter.

"Another line which might possibly interest you would be that of a
salesman in an art or music store, where customers come to you, or in a
book store. You probably would do better selling to women than to men.

"Whatever you do, you should work under direction, under the direction of
some one whose judgment, wisdom, honesty, and high principles you respect.
Under wise leadership you have your very best opportunities for success.
In attempting to be your own manager and to go your own way, you suffer
from the serious handicaps to which I have already referred.

"In selecting from among the vocations I have enumerated the one that is
best for you, you will, of course, be guided very largely by
opportunities. At this distance I do not know just which is your best
opportunity, and, therefore, cannot counsel you definitely to undertake
any one of these vocations in preference to the others. If the opportunity
is at hand, perhaps the position of literary or dramatic critic with a
publishing house would be most congenial for you and offer you the best
future. If not, then one of the others. You might even undertake a
position as salesman in a book store or an art store while preparing or
waiting for an opening in one of the other lines suggested.

"Whatever you undertake, however, compel yourself, in spite of obstacles,
in spite of your very natural criticisms of the situation, to stick to it
until you make a success of it.

"As you grow older, if you will patiently and conscientiously cultivate
more deliberation, more practical sense, more self-control, and more
poise, you will become more mature in judgment and gradually overcome to a
greater and greater degree the handicaps which have so far interfered with
your progress and the best and highest expression of your personality."

HANDICAPS OF THIS TYPE

To make a long story short, Sydney Williams and men of his type have
unusual intellectual powers of analysis, criticism, memory, abstraction,
and philosophy. They can master hypotheses, higher mathematics, and Hebrew
irregular verbs, but they are babes in all practical affairs. They have
some such conception of the plain facts of human nature, ordinary
financial values, and efficient methods of commerce as a man with color
blindness has of the art of Corot. Like the children they are, these
people seldom suspect their deficiencies. Oftentimes they are ambitious to
make a success in a commercial way. They try salesmanship, or, if they
have a little capital, they may embark in some ambitious business project
on their own account. They even go into farming or agriculture or poultry
raising, or some kind of fancy fruit producing, with all of the optimism
and cheerfulness and confidence in their ability that Sydney Williams felt
for his orange growing. When they fail, it is more often through their own
incompetence than because some one comes along who is mean enough to take
candy from a baby. They usually dissipate their assets by impracticable
schemes before the unscrupulous can take them. The only hope for such men
is to learn their limitations; to learn that, even though they may be
ambitious for commercial success, they are utterly unqualified for it;
that, although they may wish to do something in the way of production or
selling, they have neither talent, courage, secretiveness, persistence,
nor other qualities necessary for a success in these lines. They are too
credulous. They are too impractical. They are too lacking in fighting
qualities, and, therefore, too easily imposed upon. They are usually lazy
physically and find disagreeable situations hard, so that they are out of
place in the rough-and-tumble, strenuous, hurly-burly of business,
manufacturing, or ordinary professional life.

Perhaps a few stories would indicate what these men can do, do well, and
what they can be happy and satisfied in doing. There is a real need for
them in the world.

A CAREER IN MUSIC

George R. came to us late one evening in a little town in Illinois. He was
nervous, weak, and diffident.

"I am now," he said, "a salesman in a dry goods store. But I have only
held the job three months and do not expect that I will be permitted to
remain more than a week or so longer. I have been warned several times by
the floor-walker that my errors will cost me my position. God knows, I do
my best to succeed in the work, but it is like all the other positions
I've held. Somehow or other I don't seem to be able to give satisfaction.
While I am on my guard and as alert as I know how to be against one of the
things I've been told not to do, I am just as sure as sunshine to go and
do some other thing which is against the rules. If I don't do something
against the rules, then I forget to do something I was told to do. If I
don't forget to do something I've been told to do, then I am quite likely
to make some outlandish mistake that no one ever thought of framing a rule
to fit. The result of it all is that in about another week or, at the
most, two, I'll be out of employment again. I have tried driving a
delivery wagon. I've tried grocery stores. I've tried doing collections. I
began once as clerk in a bank. Immediately after leaving college, I
started in as newspaper reporter. I've been a newsboy on railroad trains.
I sold candies and peanuts in a fair ground. I have been night clerk in a
hotel. I've been steward on a steamboat. I've been a shipping clerk in a
publishing house, and I have been fired from every job I have ever had.
True enough, I've hated them all, but, nevertheless; I have tried to do my
best in them. Why I cannot succeed with any of them, I don't know, and yet
I have a feeling that somehow, somewhere, sometime, I will find something
to do that I will love, and that I can do well."

"Music," we said, "unquestionably music."

"Do you think I could?" he said wistfully. "Music has been my passion all
my life long. It has been my one joy, my one solace in all my wanderings
and all my failures. But I have always been afraid I would fail also in
that, and, if I should, it would break my heart sure. But if you think I
have the talent, then I shall give my whole time, my whole thought, my
whole energy to music hereafter."

It was rather late in life for this young man to begin a musical career.
While he had always been fond of music, he had been sent to college for a
classical course by parents to whom a classical course meant everything
that was desirable in an education. He had learned to play the piano, the
violin, the guitar, the mandolin, and some other instruments, without
education, because of his natural musical talent. He played them all as he
had opportunity, for his own amusement, but, because of his ambition for
commercial success, had never thought of music as a career. We wish we
might tell you that this young man was now one of the foremost composers
or conductors of his time. It would make an excellent story. Such,
however, is not the case.

He devoted himself to securing a thorough musical education, supporting
himself and paying his expenses in the mean-while by playing in churches,
musicales, motion picture shows, and other places. He also received a few
dollars nearly every week for playing the violin for dances and other
functions in a semi-professional orchestra. Truly this was not "art for
art's sake." Any critical musician could probably tell you that such use
of his musical talent forever shut off any hopes of his becoming a true
artist. On the other hand, it did fill his stomach and clothe him while he
was securing a sufficient musical education to enable him to make a very
fair living as teacher on various musical instruments and as a performer
at popular concerts, recitals, etc. Best of all, he was happy in his work,
felt himself growing in success and, while there were probably heights
which he never could scale and to which he may have turned his longing
eyes, he doubtless got a considerable amount of satisfaction out of the
fact that he was no longer being kicked around from pillar to post in the
commercial world.

VOCATIONS FOR THE IMPRACTICAL

Herbert Spencer felt that he was a complete and utter failure as a civil
engineer, but he made a magnificent success as a scientist, essayist, and
philosopher.

The number of great authors, scientists, philosophers, poets, actors,
preachers, teachers, lecturers, and musicians who were ludicrously
impractical is legion. Literature abounds in stories of their
idiosyncrasies. These people deal with abstractions, ideas, with theories,
and with emotions. They may be very successful in the spinning of
theories, in the working out of clever ideas, and in their appeal to the
emotions of their fellow-men. They may write poetry which is the product
of genius; they may devise profound philosophy. This is their realm. Here
is where they are supreme, and it is in this kind of work they find an
expression for all of their talent.

Right here there is need for careful distinction. There is a great
difference between the impractical man who has energy, courage, and
persistence, and the impractical man who is lazy and cowardly. No matter
what a man's natural talent may be, it takes hard work to be successful in
such callings as art, music, the pulpit, the stage, the platform, and the
pen. Inspiration may seem to have a great deal to do with success. But
even in the writing of a poem inspiration is probably only about five per
cent.; hard work constitutes the other ninety-five per cent. It is one
thing to have vague, beautiful dreams, to be an admirer of beauty, to
enjoy thrills in contemplation of beautiful thoughts or beautiful
pictures. It is quite another thing to have the energy, the courage, and
the dogged persistence necessary to create that which is beautiful.

NO EASY ROAD TO SUCCESS

We offer no golden key which unlocks the doors to success. Much as we
regret to disappoint many aspiring young men and women, we must be
truthful and admit that there is no magic way in which some wonderful,
unguessed talent can be discovered within them and made to blossom forth
in a night, as it were. Many people of this type come to us for
consultation, evidently with the delectable delusion that we can point out
to them some quick and easy way to fame and fortune. Again we must make
emphatic by repetition the hard, uncompromising truth that laziness,
cowardice, weakness, and vacilation are incompatible with true success. No
matter what a man's other aptitudes may be, no matter how great his talent
or his opportunities, we can suggest absolutely no vocation in which he
can be successful unless he has the will to overcome these deficiencies in
his character.

Many a man is deluded into the fond supposition that he is not successful
because he does not fit into the vocation where he finds himself. The
truth is that he probably is in as desirable a vocation as could possibly
be found for him. The reason he is not successful is because he has failed
to develop the fundamental qualities of industry, courage, and
persistence.

HOW TO BECOME MORE PRACTICAL

When the impractical man learns his limitations he is all too likely to go
to extremes in depreciating his own business ability. Many such people are
seemingly proud of their deficiencies in business sense. "I am no business
man. You attend to it, I'll trust you," they say. While a lack of natural
business ability may not be a man's fault, it is nothing to be proud of.
You may not be born with keen, financial sense, but that is no reason why
you may not develop more and more of it and make yourself a better
business man. As a matter of fact, every man is in business--he has
something to sell which he wishes the rest of the world to buy from him.
He has himself, at least, to support, and more than likely he has others
dependent upon him. He has no right, therefore, to neglect business
affairs and to permit others to impose upon him and to steal from him and
from those dependent upon him the proper reward for his labor.

Even the youth who is poor in mathematics can learn something about
geometry, algebra, and trigonometry; even he who "has no head for
language" can learn to speak a foreign tongue and even to read Latin or
Greek. It is not easy for either one of them and perhaps the one can never
become a great mathematician nor the other a great linguist, but both can
learn something, both can improve their grasp of the difficult subject.
There are probably few readers of these pages who have not in their school
days overcome just such handicaps in some particular subject of study.

In a similar way those who are impractical and have little business sense
can improve in this respect and they ought to. Such people ought to study
practical affairs, ought to give their attention to financial matters. In
fact, one of the best ways to increase financial judgment is to form the
intimate acquaintance of some one who has a keen sense of financial
values. If such a person can be persuaded to talk about what he knows, the
impractical man will do well to take a keen interest in what he says, to
qualify himself to understand it, and, if possible, to get the point of
view from which a good business man approaches his problems and studies
his affairs. Actual practice is, of course, necessary for development, and
the impractical man ought to take an interest in his affairs and ought to
do his best to handle them. Naturally, he needs to seek competent counsel
in regard to them, but he should pay some attention to the counsel given,
try to learn something from it, watch results of every course of action
and in every possible way study to make himself more practical and less
theoretical and abstract in his attitude toward life in general and toward
business affairs in particular.

Not long ago we attended a meeting of two and three hundred of the most
prominent authors, poets, and playwrights in America. We were not at all
surprised to note that nearly every one of those who had made a financial
success of his art was a man of the practical, commercial type who had
developed his business sense along with his artistic or literary talent.

A PAUPER, HE DREAMED OF MILLIONS

Some years ago we formed the acquaintance of a delightful man who is so
typical of a certain class of the impractical that his story is
instructive. When we first formed the acquaintance of this gentleman he
was about thirty years of age, rather handsome in appearance, with great
blue eyes, very fine silky blonde hair, and a clear, pink, and white
complexion. His head, somewhat narrow just above the ears, indicated a
mild, easy-going, gentle disposition. The large, rounded dome just above
temples was typical of the irrepressible optimist. His forehead, very full
and bulging just below the hair line, showed him to be of the thoughtful,
meditative, drearily type, while flatness and narrowness at the brows told
as plainly as print of the utter impracticability of his roseate dreams.

True to his exquisite blonde coloring, this man was eager, buoyant,
irrepressible, impatient of monotony, routine, and detail--social and
friendly. True to his fine texture, he shrank from hardship, was
sensitive, refined, beauty loving and luxury loving. Because of his mild
disposition and optimism and also because of his love of approval, he was
suave, affable, courteous, agreeable. He made acquaintances easily and had
many of the elements of popularity.

Because he was ambitious to occupy a position of prominence and
distinction, because he wished to gratify his luxurious and elegant
tastes, and because in his irrepressible optimism it seemed so absurdly
easy to do, he was eager to make a large fortune. Lacking the
aggressiveness, energy, willingness to undergo hardship and to work hard
and long, patiently enduring the hours and days of drudgery over details
that could not be neglected, he dreamed of making millions by successful
speculation.

LOOKING FOR A SHORT CUT TO WEALTH

It is easy to see why a man of this type, with his futile dreams of easy
conquests in the field of finance, should have scorned the slow and
painful process of acquiring an education. Yet the tragedy of his life was
that his only hope of usefulness in the world was through the careful
cultivation and development of his really fine intellect. It is also easy
to see why such a man would lack the patience to learn a trade even if he
had had the manual skill to carry on any trade successfully--which he had
not. For the same reasons he would not take pains to qualify himself for
any occupation, although he might have made a fair success in retail
salesmanship perhaps, notwithstanding his far greater fitness for
educational, ministerial, or platform work. On the contrary, he roamed
about the country occupying himself at odd times with such bits of light
mental or physical work as came his way. Being without training and taking
no real interest in his work, he never retained any job long. Sometimes,
lured by the will-o'-the-wisp of some fancied opportunity to make a
million, he gave up his work. Sometimes he merely got tired of working and
quit. But most often he was discharged for his incompetence. It is
difficult indeed for any man to attend properly to the cent-a-piece
details of an ordinary job when he is dreaming of the easy thousands he is
going to make next week.

This charming gentleman was always out of funds. Although he carefully
tonsured the ends of his trouser legs, inked the cuffs of his coat,
blackened and polished his hose and even his own, fine, fair skin where it
showed through the holes of his shoes, and turned his collars and ties
again and again, he was nearly always shabby. On rare and ever rarer
occasions he would do some relative or friend the inestimable favor and
honor of accepting a small loan, "to be repaid in a few days, as soon as a
big deal I now have under way is consummated." These loans were his only
successes in the realm of practical finance. Inasmuch as the repayment of
them was contingent upon the closing of an ever-imminent, but never
consummated, "big deal," they cost him nothing for either principal or
interest. For a few weeks after the successful negotiation of one of these
loans, he would be resplendent, opulent, fastidious, even generous. All
too soon the last dollar would slip through his unheeding fingers. If
during a period of affluence he had succeeded in establishing a little
semblance of credit, he would maintain his regal style of living as long
as it lasted. Then he would come down to the hall bedroom or even the
ten-cent lodging house, the lunch wagon, and the pawn shop. But even at
the lowest ebb of his fortunes, he never seemed to lose his cheerfulness,
his good nature, his grand manners, and his easy, confident hope and
conviction about the huge sums that were to come into his possession
"within a few days."

A DILETTANTE IN REAL ESTATE

Do not imagine that this man's dreams of great and easy fortunes were mere
idle fancies--far from it. He was nearly always engaged in negotiations
for some big deal. One of his favorite pastimes was to hunt up large
holdings of real estate offered for sale, go to the owners, represent
himself as a real estate broker, and secure permission to put these
properties on his "list." This permission obtained, he would go about
trying to find buyers. But his ideas of real estate values, of the
adaptation of properties to purchasers, of the details of a real estate
transaction and of salesmanship were so vague and so impractical that if
he ever succeeded in selling a piece of real estate, we have not yet heard
of it. He lacked the practical sense necessary to inform himself upon such
important matters as taxes, assessments, insurance rates, trend of
population, direction and character of commercial expansion, bank
clearings, freight shipments, volume of retail and wholesale business,
projected municipal and public service improvements, crop reports, output
of manufacturies, and many other items which form the basis for
intelligent negotiation, in a real estate deal. He could talk only in
glittering generalities, and his suggestions were usually so impracticable
that he failed to secure the confidence of those who were in a position to
purchase properties so valuable as those he invariably hit upon for his
ambitious projects.

AN UNDESERVED BAD REPUTATION

Here, then, was a man of unusual intelligence and capacity along
theoretical, abstract, philosophical, and spiritual lines. His intentions
were good. He was kindly, sympathetic, generous to a fault, refined,
ambitious, high principled at heart and a thorough gentleman by birth,
training, and instinct. Yet, because of a lack of clear knowledge, his
life has been one of hardship, privation, disappointment, disillusionment,
galling poverty, and utter failure. He has been subjected to ridicule and
the even more blighting cruelty of good-natured, patronizing, contemptuous
tolerance. His reputation is that of a lazy, good-for-nothing,
disreputable dead beat and loafer. And yet, in a sense, nothing is further
from the truth. Notwithstanding his many disappointments, no one could
have been more sincere than he in believing that just around the corner
fortune awaited him.

DIAGNOSIS OF THE IMPRACTICAL MAN'S CASE

The fundamental difficulty with the impractical man is two fold. First,
his powers of observation are so deficient that it is difficult for him to
obtain facts. It is an axiom of conscious life that there is pleasure and
satisfaction in the use of well-developed powers and a disinclination to
use powers which are deficient in development. Because it is difficult for
the impractical man to obtain facts, he has little desire to obtain them.
He takes little interest in them, does not appreciate their value. He,
therefore, assumes his facts, takes them for granted or proceeds almost
wholly without them. Even when he does take the trouble to ascertain the
facts, he is inclined to be hasty and slipshod in his methods. He,
therefore does not obtain all of the necessary information bearing upon
his problem. He does not painstakingly verify his knowledge through
repeated observations, under all kinds of conditions. So he is frequently
mistaken and reasons to his conclusions upon supposed facts which are not
facts at all.

Second, the impractical man, as a general rule, has well-developed powers
of reason, logic, and imagination. His mind easily and unerringly leaps
from premises to conclusion and weaves long and beautiful chains of
reasoning, each link perfectly formed. The only trouble is that none of
the chains are attached to anything solid and substantial at either end.