The Magic Story
by
D.Basskaran.B.A.,LL.B.
Advocate.
You have found the
steps for your success now read the story to climb on.
I was sitting alone in the cafe and
had just reached for the sugar preparatory to putting it into my
coffee. Outside, the weather was hideous. Snow and sleet came
swirling down, and the wind howled frightfully. Every time the outer
door opened, a draft of unwelcome air penetrated the uttermost
corners of the room. Still I was comfortable.
The snow and sleet and wind
conveyed nothing to me except an abstract thanksgiving that I was
where it could not affect me. While I dreamed and sipped my coffee,
the door opened and closed, and admitted - Sturtevant. Sturtevant was
an undeniable failure, but, withal, an artist of more than ordinary
talent. He had, however, fallen into the rut traveled by
ne'er-do-wells, and was out at the elbows as well as
insolvent.
As I raised my eyes to
Sturtevant's I was conscious of mild surprise at the change in his
appearance. Yet he was not dressed differently. He wore the same
threadbare coat in which he always appeared, and the old brown hat
was the same. And yet there was something new and strange in his
appearance. As he swished his hat around to relieve it of the burden
of snow deposited by the howling nor'easter, there was something new
in the gesticulation.
I could not remember when I
had invited Sturtevant to dine with me, but involuntarily I beckoned
to him. He nodded and presently seated himself opposite to me. I
asked him what he would have, and he, after scanning the bill of fare
carelessly, ordered from it leisurely, and invited me to join him in
coffee for two.
I watched him in stupid
wonder, but, as I had invited the obligation, I was prepared to pay
for it, although I knew I hadn't sufficient cash to settle the bill.
Meanwhile I noticed the brightness of his usual lackluster eyes, and
the healthful, hopeful glow upon his cheek, with increasing
amazement.
"Have you lost a rich
uncle?" I asked. "No," he replied, calmly, "but I
have found my mascot." "Brindle, bull or terrier?" I
inquired. "Currier," said Sturtevant, at length, pausing
with his coffee cup half way to his lips, "I see that I have
surprised you. It is not strange, for I am a surprise to myself. I am
a new man, a different man, - and the alteration has taken place in
the last few hours.
You have seen me come into
this place 'broke' many a time, when you have turned away, so that I
would think you did not see me. I knew why you did that. It was not
because you did not want to pay for a dinner, but because you did not
have the money to do it. Is that your check? Let me have it. Thank
you. I haven't any money with me tonight, but I, - well, this is my
treat." He called the waiter to him, and, with an inimitable
flourish, signed his name on the backs of the two checks, and waved
him away.
After that he was silent
for a moment while he looked into my eyes, smiling at the
astonishment which I in vain strove to conceal. "Do you know an
artist who possess more talent than I?" he asked, presently.
"No. Do you happen to know anything in the line of my profession
that I could not accomplish, if I applied myself to it? No. You have
been a reporter for the dailies for - how many? - seven or eight
years. Do you remember when I ever had any credit until tonight? No.
Was I refused just now? You have seen for yourself. Tomorrow my new
career begins. Within a month I shall have a bank account. Why?
Because I have discovered the secret of success."
"Yes," he continued, when I did not reply, "my fortune
is made. I have been reading a strange story, and since reading it, I
feel that my fortune is assured. It will make your fortune, too. All
you have to do is read it. You have no idea what it will do for you.
Nothing is impossible after you know that story. It makes everything
as plain as A, B, C. The very instant you grasp its true meaning,
success is certain. This morning I was a hopeless, aimless bit of
garbage in the metropolitan ash can; tonight I wouldn't change places
with a millionaire. That sounds foolish, but it is true. The
millionaire has spent his enthusiasm; mine is all at
hand."
"You amaze me," I
said, wondering if he had been drinking absinthe.
"Won't you tell me the
story? I should like to hear it."
"Certainly. I mean to
tell it to the whole world. It is really remarkable that it should
have been written and should remain in print so long, with never a
soul to appreciate it until now. This morning I was starving. I
hadn't any credit, nor a place to get a meal. I was seriously
meditating suicide.
I had gone to three of the
papers for which I had done work, and had been handed back all that I
had submitted. I had to choose quickly between death by suicide and
death slowly by starvation. Then I found the story and read it. you
can hardly imagine the transformation. Why, my dear boy, everything
changed at once, - and there you are."
"But what is the
story, Sturtevant?"
"Wait; let me finish.
I took those old drawings to other editors, and every one of them was
accepted at once." "Can the story do for others what it has
done for you? For example, would it be of assistance to me?" I
asked. "Help you? Why not? Listen and I will tell it to you,
although, really, you should read it. Still I will tell it as best I
can. It is like this: you see, - - -" The waiter interrupted us
at that moment. He informed Sturtevant that he was wanted on the
telephone, and with a word of apology, the artist left the
table.
Five minutes later I saw
him rush out into the sleet and wind and disappear. Within the
recollection of the frequenters of that cafe, Sturtevant had never
before been called out by telephone. that, of itself, was substantial
proof of a change in his circumstances. * * * One night, on the street, I encountered
Avery, a former college chum, then a reporter on one of the evening
papers. It was about a month after my memorable interview with
Sturtevant, which, by that time, was almost forgotten.
"Hello, old
chap," he said; "how's the world using you? Still on
space?" "Yes," I replied, bitterly, "with
prospects of being on the town, shortly. But you look as if things
were coming your way. Tell me all about it."
"Things have been
coming my way, for a fact, and it is all remarkable, when all is said.
You know Sturtevant, don't you? It's all due to him. I was plumb down
on my luck, - thinking of the morgue and all that, - looking for you,
in fact, with the idea you would lend me enough to pay my room rent,
when I met Sturtevant. He told me a story, and, really, old man, it
is the most remarkable story you ever heard; it made a new man out of
me. Within twenty-four hours I was on my feet and I've hardly known a
care or a trouble since."
Avery's statement, uttered
calmly, and with the air of one who had merely pronounced an axiom,
recalled to my mind the conversation with Sturtevant in the cafe that
stormy night, nearly a month before. "It must be a remarkable
story," I said, incredulously. "Sturtevant mentioned it to
me once. I have not seen him since. Where is he now?" "He
has been making war sketches in Cuba, at two hundred a week; he's
just returned. It is a fact that everybody who has heard the story
has done well since. There are Cosgrove and Phillips, - friends of
mine, - you don't know them. One's a real estate agent; the other's a
broker's clerk, Sturtevant told them the story, and they have
experienced the same results that I have; and they are not the only
ones.
"Do you know the
story?" I asked. "Will you try its effect on me?"
"Certainly; with the greatest pleasure in the world. I would
like to have it printed in big black type, and posted on the elevated
stations throughout New York. It certainly would do a lot of good,
and it's as simple as A, B, C: like living on a farm. Excuse me a
minute, will you? I see Dan forth over there. Back in a minute, old
chap." If the truth be told, I was hungry. My pocket at that
moment contained exactly five cents; just enough to pay my fare
up-town, but insufficient also to stand the expense of filling my
stomach.
There was a "night
owl" wagon in the neighborhood, where I had frequently
"stood up" the purveyor of midnight dainties, and to him I
applied. He was leaving the wagon as I was on the point of entering
it, and I accosted him. "I'm broke again," I said, with
extreme cordiality. "You'll have to trust me once more. Some ham
and eggs, I think, will do for the present." He coughed,
hesitated a moment, and then re-entered the wagon with me. "Mr.
Currier is good for anything he orders'" he said to the man in
charge; "one of my old customers. This is Mr. Bryan, Mr.
Currier. He will take good care of you, and 'stand for' you, just the
same as I would. The fact is, I have sold out. I've just turned over
the outfit to Bryan. By the way, isn't Mr. Sturtevant a friend of
yours?" I nodded.
I couldn't have spoken if I
had tried. "Well," continued the ex-"night owl"
man, "he came in here one night, about a month ago, and told me
the most wonderful story I ever heard. I've just bought a place in Eighth
Avenue, where I am going to run a regular restaurant - near
Twenty-third Street. Come and see me." He was out of the wagon
and the sliding door had been banged shut before I could stop him; so
I ate my ham and eggs in silence, and resolved that I would hear that
story before I slept. In fact, I began to regard it with
superstition.
If it had made so many
fortunes, surely it should be capable of making mine. The certainty
that the wonderful story - I began to regard it as magic - was in the
air, possessed me. As I started to walk homeward, fingering the
solitary nickel in my pocket and contemplating the certainty of
riding downtown in the morning, I experienced the sensation of
something stealthily pursuing me, as if Fate were treading along behind
me, yet never overtaking, and I was conscious that I was possessed
with or by the story.
When I reached Union
Square, I examined my address book for the home of Sturtevant. It was
not recorded there. Then I remembered the cafe in University
Place, and, although the hour was late, it occurred to me that he
might be there. He was! In a far corner of the room, surrounded by a
group of acquaintances, I saw him. He discovered me at the same
instant, and motioned to me to join them at the table. There was no
chance for the story, however. There were half a dozen around the
table, and I was the furthest removed from Sturtevant. But I kept my
eyes upon him, and bided my time, determined that, when he rose to
depart, I would go with him.
A silence, suggestive of
respectful awe, had fallen upon the party when I took my seat.
Everyone had seemed to be thinking, and the attention of all was
fixed upon Sturtevant. The cause was apparent. He had been telling
the story. I had entered the cafe just too late to hear it. On my
right, when I took my seat, was a doctor; on my left a lawyer. Facing
me on the other side was a novelist with whom I had some
acquaintance. The others were artists and newspaper men.
"It's too bad, Mr. Currier,"
remarked the doctor; "you should have come a little sooner,
Sturtevant has been telling us a story; it is quite wonderful,
really. I say, Sturtevant, won't you tell that story again, for the
benefit of Mr. Currier?" "Why yes. I believe that Currier
has, somehow, failed to hear the magic story, although, as a matter
of fact, I think he was the first one to whom I mentioned it at all.
It was here, in this cafe, too, -at this very
table.
Do you remember what a wild night that
was, Currier? Wasn't I called to the telephone, or something like
that? To be sure! I remember, now; interrupted just at the point when
I was beginning the story. After that I told it to three or four
fellows, and it 'braced them up,' as it had me. It seems incredible
that a mere story can have such a tonic effect upon the success of so
many persons who are engaged in such widely different occupations,
but that is what it has done. It is a kind of never-failing remedy,
like a cough mixture that is warranted to cure everything, from a
cold in the head to galloping consumption. There was Parsons, for
example. He is a broker, you know, and had been on the wrong side of
the market for a month. He had utterly lost his grip, and was on the
verge of failure. I happened to meet him at the time he was feeling
the bluest, and before we parted, something brought me around to the
subject of the story, and I related it to him. It had the same effect
on him as it had on me, and has had on everybody who has heard it, as
far as I know.
I think you will all agree
with me, that it is not the story itself that performs the surgical
operation on the minds of those who are familiar with it; it is the
way it is told, -in print, I mean. The author has, somehow, produced
a psychological effect which is indescribable. The reader is hypnotized.
He receives a mental and moral tonic.
Perhaps, doctor, you can
give some scientific explanation of the influence exerted by the
story. It is a sort of elixir manufactured out of words, eh?"
From that the company entered upon a general discussion of theories.
Now and then slight references were made to the story itself, and
they were just sufficient to tantalize me, -the only one present who
had not heard it.
At length, I left my chair,
and passing around the table, seized Sturtevant by one arm, and
succeeded in drawing him away from the party. "If you have any
consideration for an old friend who is rapidly being driven mad by
the existence of that confounded story, which Fate seems determined
that I shall never hear, you will relate it to me now," I said,
savagely. Sturtevant stared at me in wild surprise. "All
right," he said. "The others will excuse me for a few
moments, I think. Sit down here, and you shall have it. I found it
pasted in an old scrapbook I purchased in Ann Street, for three cents
and there isn't a thing about it by which one can get any idea in
what publication it originally appeared, or who wrote it. When I
discovered it, I began casually to read it, and in a moment I was
interested. Before I left it, I had read it through many times, so
that I could repeat it almost word for word. It affected me
strangely, -as if I had come in contact with some strong
personality.
There seems to be in the
story a personal element that applies to every one who reads it.
Well, after I had read it several times, I began to think it over. I
couldn't stay in the house, so I seized my coat and hat and went out.
I must have walked several miles, buoyantly, without realizing that I
was the same man, who, in only a short time before, had been in the
depths of despondency. That was the day I met you here, -you
remember." We were interrupted at that instant by a uniformed
messenger, who handed Sturtevant a telegram. It was from his chief,
and demanded his instant attendance at the office. The sender had
already been delayed an hour, and there was no help for it; he must
go at once. "Too bad!" said Sturtevant, rising and
extending his hand.
"Tell you what I'll
do, old chap. I'm not likely to be gone any more than an hour or two.
You take my key and wait for me in my room. In the escritoire
near the window you will find an old scrapbook bound in rawhide. It
was manufactured, I have no doubt, by the author of the magic story.
Wait for me in my room until I return."
I found the book without
difficulty. It was a quaint, home-made affair, covered, as Sturtevant
had said, with rawhide, and bound with leather thongs. The pages
formed an odd combination of yellow paper, vellum and homemade
parchment. I found the story, curiously printed on the last-named
material. It was quaint and strange. Evidently, the printer had
"set" it under the supervision of the writer. The
phraseology was an unusual combination of seventeenth and eighteenth
century mannerisms, and the interpolation of italics and capitals
could have originated in no other brain than that of its author. In
reproducing the following story, the peculiarities of type, etc. are
eliminated, but in other respects it remains unchanged.Inasmuch as I have evolved
from my experience the one great secret of success for all worldly
undertakings, I deem it wise, now that the number of my days is
nearly counted, to give to the generations that are to follow me the benefit
of whatsoever knowledge I possess. I do not apologize for the manner
of my expression, nor for the lack of literary merit, the latter
being, I wow, its own apology. Tools much heavier than the pen have
been my portion, and moreover, the weight of years has somewhat
palsied the hand and brain; nevertheless, the fact I can tell, and
what I deem the meat within the nut. What mattered it, in what manner
the shell be broken, so that the meat be obtained and rendered
useful? I doubt not that I shall use, in the telling, expressions
that have clung to my memory since childhood; for, when men attain
the number of my years, happenings of youth are like to be clearer to
their perceptions than are events of recent date; nor doth it matter
much how a thought is expressed, if it be wholesome and helpful, and
findeth the understanding.
Much have I wearied my brain
anent the question, how best to describe this recipe for success that
I have discovered, and it seemed advisable to give it as it came to
me; that is, if I relate somewhat of the story of my life, the
directions for agglomerating the substances, and supplying the
seasoning for the accomplishment of the dish, will plainly be
perceived. Happen they may; and that men may be born generations
after I am dust, who will live to bless me for the words I
write. * * * My
father, then, was a seafaring man who, early in life, forsook his
vocation, and settled on a plantation in the colony of Virginia,
where, some years thereafter, I was born, which event took place in
the year 1642; and that was over a hundred years ago. Better for my
father had it been, had he hearkened to the wise advice of my mother,
that he remain in the calling of his education; but he would not have
it so, and the good vessel he captained was bartered for the land I
spoke of. Here beginneth the first lesson to be
acquired:----
Man should not be blinded to
whatsoever merit exists in the opportunity which he hath in hand,
remembering that a thousand promises for the future should weigh as
naught against the possession of a single piece of silver.
When I had achieved ten years,
my mother's soul took flight, and two years thereafter my worthy
father followed her. I, being their only begotten, was left alone;
howbeit, there were friends who, for a time, cared for me; that is to
say, they offered me a home beneath their roof, - a thing which I
took advantage of for the space of five months. From my father's
estate there came to me naught; but, in the wisdom that came with
increasing years, I convinced myself that his friend, under whose
roof I lingered for some time, had defrauded him, and therefore
me.
Of the time from the age of
twelve and a half until I was three and twenty, I will make no
recital here, since that time hath naught to do with this tale; but
some time after, having in my possession the sum of sixteen guineas,
ten, which I had saved from the fruits of my labor, I took ship to
Boston town, where I began to work first as a cooper, and thereafter
as a ship's carpenter, although always after the craft was docked;
for the sea was not amongst my desires.
Fortune will sometimes smile upon an
intended victim because of pure perversity of temper. Such was one of
my experiences. I prospered, and at seven and twenty, owned the yard
wherein, less than four years earlier, I had worked for hire.
Fortune, howbeit, is a jade who must be coerced; she will not be
coddled. Here beginneth the second lesson to be
acquired:
Fortune is ever elusive, and can
only be re- tained by force. Deal with her tenderly and she will
forsake you for a stronger man. (In that, me- thinks, she is not
unlike other women of my knowledge.)
About this time, Disaster (which is one of
the heralds of broken spirits and lost resolve), paid me a visit.
Fire ravaged my yards, leaving me nothing in its blackened paths but
debts, which I had not the coin wherewith to defray. I labored with
my acquaintances, seeking assistance for a new start, but the fire
that had burned my competence, seemed also to have consumed their
sympathies. So it happened, within a short time, that not only had I
lost all, but I was hopelessly indebted to others; and for that they
cast me into prison. It is possible that I might have rallied from my
losses but for this last indignity, which broke down my spirits so
that I became utterly despondent. Upward of a year I was detained
within the goal; and, when I did come forth, it was not the same
hopeful, happy man, content with his lot, and with confidence in the
world and its people, who had entered there.
Life has many pathways, and of them by
far the greater number lead downward. Some are precipitous, others
are less abrupt; but ultimately, no matter at what inclination the
angle may be fixed, they arrive at the same destination, - failure.
And here beginneth the third lesson:
Failure exists only in the grave.
Man, being alive, hath not yet failed; always he may turn about and
ascend by the same path he descended by; and there may be one that is
less abrupt (albeit longer of achievement), and more adaptable to his
condition.
When I came forth from prison, I was
penniless. In all the world I possessed naught beyond the poor
garments which covered me, and a walking stick which the turnkey had
permitted me to retain, since it was worthless. Being a skilled
workman, howbeit, I speedily found employment at good wages; but,
having eaten of the fruit of worldly advantage, dissatis-faction
possessed me. I became morose and sullen; whereat, to cheer my
spirits, and for the sake of forgetting the losses I had sustained, I
passed my evenings at the tavern. Not that I drank overmuch of
liquor, except on occasion (for I have ever been somewhat
abstemious), but that I could laugh and sing, and parry wit and badinage
with my ne'er-do-well companions; and here might be included the
fourth lesson:
Seek comrades among the industrious, for
those who are idle will sap your energies from you.
It was my pleasure at that time to relate,
upon slight provocation, the tale of my disasters, and to rail
against the men whom I deemed to have wronged me, because they had
seen fit not to come to my aid. Moreover, I found childish delight in
filching from my employer, each day, a few moments of the time for
which he paid me. Such a thing is less honest than downright
theft.
This habit continued and grew upon me until
the day dawned which found me not only without employment, but also
without character, which meant that I could not hope to find work
with any other employer in Boston town.
It was then that I regarded myself a
failure. I can liken my condition at that time for naught more
similar than that of a man who, descending the steep side of a
mountain, loses his foothold. The farther he slides, the faster he
goes. I have also heard this condition described by the word
Ishmaelite, which I understand to be a man whose hand is against
everybody, and who thinks that the hands of every other man are
against him; and here beginneth the fifth lesson:
The Ishmaelite and the leper are the
same, since both are abominations in the sight of man, - albeit they
differ much, in that the former may be restored to perfect health.
The former is entirely the result of imagination; the latter has
poison in his blood.
I will not discourse at length upon the
gradual degeneration of my energies. It is not meet ever to dwell
much upon misfortunes (which saying is also worthy of remembrance).
It is enough if I add that the day came where I possessed naught
wherewith to purchase food and raiment, and I found myself like unto
a pauper, save at infrequent times when I could earn a few pence, or
mayhap, a shilling. Steady employment I could not secure, so I became
emancipated in body, and naught but skeleton in
spirit.
My condition, then, was deplorable;
not so much for the body, be it said, as for the mental part of me,
which was sick unto death. In my imagination I deemed myself
ostracized by the whole world, for I had sunk very low indeed; and
here beginneth the sixth and final lesson to be acquired, (which
cannot be told in one sentence, nor in one paragraph, but must needs
be adopted from the remainder of this tale). * *
* Well do I remember my awakening, for it
came in the night, when, in truth, I did awake from sleep. My bed was
a pile of shavings in the rear of the cooper shop where once I had
worked for hire; my roof was the pyramid of casks, underneath which I
had established myself. The night was cold, and I was chilled,
albeit, paradoxically, I had been dreaming of light and warmth and of
the depletion of good things. You will say, when I relate the effect
the vision had on me, that my mind was affected. So be it, for it is
the hope that the minds of others might be likewise influenced which
disposes me to undertake the labor of this writing. It was the dream
which converted me to the belief - nay, to the knowledge - that I was
possessed of two entities: and it was my own better self that
afforded me the assistance for which I had pleaded in vain from my
acquaintances. I have heard this condition described by the word
"double." Nevertheless, that word does not comprehend my
meaning. A double, can be naught more than a double, neither half
being possessed of individuality. But I will not philosophize, since
philosophy is naught but a suit of garments for the decoration of a
dummy figure.
Moreover, it was not the dream itself which
affected me; it was the impression made by it, and the influence that
it exerted over me, which accomplished my enfranchisement. In a word,
then, I encouraged my other identity. After toiling through a tempest
of snow and wind, I peered into a window and saw that other being. He
was rosy with health; before him, on the hearth, blazed a fire of
logs; there was a conscious power and force in his demeanor; he was
physically and mentally muscular. I rapped timidly upon the door, and
he bade me enter. There was a not unkindly smile of derision in his
eyes as he motioned me to a chair by the fire; but he uttered no word
of welcome; and, when I had warmed myself, I went forth again into
the tempest, burdened with the shame which the contrast between us
had forced upon me. It was then that I awoke; and here cometh the
strange part of my tale, for, when I did awake, I was not alone.
There was a Presence with me; intangible to others, I discovered
later, but real to me.
The Presence was in my likeness, yet it was
strikingly unlike. The brow, not more lofty than my own, yet seemed
more round and full; the eyes, clear, direct, and filled with
purpose, glowed with enthusiasm and resolution; the lips, chin, - ay,
the whole contour of face and figure was dominant and
determined.
He was calm, steadfast, and self-reliant; I was
cowering, filled with nervous trembling, and fearsome of intangible
shadows. When the Presence turned away, I followed, and throughout
the day I never lost sight of it, save when it disappeared for a time
beyond some doorway where I dared not enter; at such places, I awaited
its return with trepidation and awe, for I could not help wondering
at the temerity of the Presence (so like myself, and yet so unlike),
in daring to enter where my own feet feared to
tread.
It seemed also as if purposely, I was led to the
place and to the men where, and before whom I most dreaded to appear;
to offices where once I had transacted business; to men with whom I
had financial dealings. Throughout the day I pursued the Presence,
and at evening saw it disappear beyond the portals of a hostelry
famous for its cheer and good living. I sought the pyramid of casks
and shavings.
Not again in my dreams that night did I encounter
the Better Self (for that is what I have named it), albeit, when,
perchance, I awakened from slumber, it was near to me, ever wearing
that calm smile of kindly derision which could not be mistaken for
pity, nor for condolence in any form. The contempt of it stung me
sorely.
The second day was not unlike the first, being a
repetition of its forerunner, and I was again doomed to wait outside
during the visits which the Presence paid to places where I fain
would have gone had I possessed the requisite courage. It is fear
which departed a man's soul from his body and rendered it a thing to
be despised. Many a time I essayed to address it but enunciation
rattled in my throat, unintelligible; and the day closed like its
predecessor.
This happened many days, one following another, until I
ceased to count them; albeit, I discovered that constant association
with the Presence was producing an effect on me; and one night when I
awoke among the casks and discerned that he was present, I made bold
to speak, albeit with marked timidity.
"Who are you?" I ventured to ask; and I was
startled into an upright posture by the sound of my own voice; and
the question seemed to give pleasure to my companion, so that I
fancied there was less of derision in his smile when he
responded.
"I am that I am," was the reply. "I am he
who you have been; I am he who you may be again; wherefore do you
hesitate? I am he who you were, and whom you have cast out for other
company. I am the man made in the image of God, who once possessed
your body. Once we dwelt within it together, not in harmony, for that
can never be, nor yet in unity, for that is impossible, but as
tenants in common who rarely fought for full possession. Then, you
were a puny thing, but you became selfish and exacting until I could
no longer abide with you, therefore I stepped out. There is a
plus-entity and minus-entity in every human body that is born into
the world. Whichever one of these is favored by the flesh becomes
dominant; then is the other inclined to abandon its habitation,
temporarily or for all time. I am the plus-entity of yourself; you
are the minus-entity. I own all things; you possess naught. That body
which we both inhabited is mine, but it is unclean, and I will not
dwell within it. Cleanse it, and I will take
possession."
"Why do you pursue me?" I next asked of
the Presence.
"You have pursued me, not I you. You can
exist without me for a time, but your path leads downward, and the
end is death. Now that you approach the end, you debate if it be not
politic that you should cleanse your house and invite me to enter.
Step aside, from the brain and the will; cleanse them of your
presence; only on that condition will I ever occupy them
again."
"The brain has lost its power," I
faltered. "The will is a weak thing, now; can you repair
them?"
"Listen!" said the Presence, and
he towered over me while I cowered abjectly at his feet. "To the
plus-entity of a man, all things are possible. The world belongs to
him, - is his estate. He fears naught, dreads naught, stops at
naught; he asks no privileges, but demands them; he dominates, and
cannot cringe; his requests are orders; opposition flees at his
approach; he levels mountains, fills in vales, and travels on an even
plane where stumbling is unknown."
Thereafter, I slept again, and, when I awoke, I
seemed to be in a different world. The sun was shining and I was
conscious that birds twittered above my head. My body, yesterday
trembling and uncertain, had become vigorous and filled with energy.
I gazed upon the pyramid of casks in amazement that I had so long
made use of it for an abiding place, and I was wonderingly conscious
that I had passed my last night beneath its
shelter.
The events of the night recurred to me, and I
looked about me for the Presence. It was not visible, but anon I
discovered, cowering in a far corner of my resting place, a puny
abject shuddering figure, distorted of visage, deformed of shape,
disheveled and unkept of appearance. It tottered as it walked, for it
approached me piteously; but I laughed aloud, mercilessly. Perchance
I knew then that it was the minus-entity, and that the plus-entity
was within me; albeit I did not then realize it. Moreover, I was in
haste to get away; I had no time for philosophy. There was much for
me to do, - much; strange it was that I had not thought of that yesterday.
But yesterday was gone, - today was with me, - it had just
begun.
As had once been my daily habit, I turned my steps
in the direction of the tavern, where formerly I had partaken of my
meals. I nodded cheerily as I entered, and smiled in recognition of
returned salutations. Men who had ignored me for months bowed
graciously when I passed them on the thoroughfare. I went to the
washroom, and from there to the breakfast table; afterwards, when I
passed the taproom, I paused a moment and said to the
landlord:
"I will occupy the same room that I formerly
used, if perchance, you have it at disposal. If not, another will do
as well, until I can obtain it."
Then I went out and hurried with all haste to the
cooperage. There was a huge wain in the yard, and men were loading it
with casks for shipment. I asked no questions, but, seizing barrels,
began hurling them to the men who worked atop of the load. When this
was finished, I entered the shop. There was a vacant bench; I
recognized its disuse by the litter on its top. It was the same at
which I had once worked. Stripping off my coat, I soon cleared it of
impedimenta. In a moment more I was seated, with my foot on the
vice-lever, shaving staves.
It was an hour later when the master workman
entered the room, and he paused in surprise at sight of me; already
there was a goodly pile of neatly shaven staves beside me, for in
those days I was an excellent workman; there was none better, but,
alas! now, age hath deprived me of my skill. I replied to his unasked
question with the brief, but comprehensive sentence: "I have
returned to work, sir." He nodded his head and passed on,
viewing the work of other men, albeit anon he glanced askance in my
direction.
Here endeth the sixth and last lesson to be
acquired, although there is more to be said, since from that moment I
was a successful man, and ere long possessed another shipyard, and
had acquired a full competence of worldly goods.
I pray you who read, heed well the following admonitions,
since upon them depend the word "success" and all that it
implies:
Whatsoever you desire of good is yours. You
have but to stretch forth your hand and take it.
Learn that the consciousness of dominant power
within you is the possession of all things
attainable.
Have no fear of any sort or shape, for fear
is an adjunct of the minus-entity.
If you have skill, apply it; the world must profit
by it, and therefore, you.
Make a daily and nightly companion of your
plus-entity; if you heed its advice, you cannot go
wrong.
Remember, philosophy is an argument; the world,
which is your property, is an accumulation of
facts.
Go therefore, and do that which is within you to
do; take no heed of gestures which would beckon you aside; ask of
no man permission to perform.
The minus-entity requests favors; the plus-entity
grants them. Fortune waits upon every footstep you take; seize her,
bind her, hold her, for she is yours; she belongs to
you.
Start out now, with these admonitions in your
mind.
Stretch out your hand, and grasp the plus, which,
maybe, you have never made use of, save in great emergencies. Life is
an emergency most grave.
Your plus-entity is beside you now; cleanse your
brain, and strengthen your will. It will take possession. It waits
upon you.
Start tonight; start now upon this new journey.
Be always on your guard. Whichever entity controls
you, the other hovers at your side; beware lest the evil enter, even
for a moment.
My task is done. I have written the recipe for
"success." If followed, it cannot fail. Wherein I may not
be entirely comprehended, the plus-entity of whosoever reads will
supply the deficiency; and upon that Better Self of mine, I place the
burden of imparting to generations that are to come, the secret of
this all-pervading good, -the secret of being what you have it within
you to be. (THE END)
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