Part 3

By this I imply that any one can be happy if he will. Happiness does not depend on circumstances, but upon Me.

This is perhaps the greatest truth in the world, and the one most persistently disbelieved.

Happiness, said Carlyle, is as the value of a common fraction, which results from dividing the numerator by the denominator. The numerator, in life, is What We Have. The denominator is What We Think We Ought to Have. Mankind may be divided into two classes: Fools and Wise. The fools are eternally trying to get happiness by multiplying the numerator, the wise divide the denominator. They both come to the same--only one you can do and the other is impossible.

If you have only one thousand dollars and think you ought to have two thousand dollars, the answer is one thousand divided by two thousand, which is one half. Go and get another thousand and you have two thousand divided by two thousand, which is one; you have doubled your contentment. But the trouble is that in human affairs as you multiply your numerator you unconsciously multiply your denominator at the same time, and you get nowhere. By the time your supply reaches two thousand dollars your wants have risen to twenty-five hundred dollars.

How much easier simply to reduce your Notion of What You Ought to Have. Get your idea down to one thousand, which you can easily do if you know the art of self-mastery, and you have one thousand divided by one thousand, which is one, and a much simpler and more sensible process than that of trying to get another one thousand dollars.

This is the most valuable secret of life. Nothing is of more worth to the youth than to awake to the truth that he can change his wants.

Not only all happiness, but all culture, all spiritual growth, all real, inward success, is a process of changing one's wants.

So if I were twenty-one I would make up my mind to be happy. You get about what is coming to you, in any event, in this world, and happiness and misery depend on how you take it; why not be happy?

IF I WERE TWENTY-ONE I WOULD GET MARRIED

I would not wait until I became able to support a wife. I would marry while poor, and marry a poor girl. I have seen all kinds of wives, and by far the greatest number of successful ones were those that married poor.

Any man of twenty-one has a better chance for happiness, moral stature, and earthly success, if married than if unmarried.

I married young, and poor as Job's turkey. I have been in some hard places, seen poverty and trial, and I have had more than my share of success, but in not one instance, either of failure or triumph, would I have been better off single. My partner in this task of living has doubled every joy and halved every defeat.

There's a deal of discussion over sex problems. There is but one wholesome, normal, practical, and God-blessed solution to the sex question, and that is the loyal love of one man and one woman.

Many young people play the fool and marry the wrong person, but my observation has been that "there's no fool like the old fool," that the longer marriage is postponed the greater are the chances of mistake, and that those couples are the most successful in matrimony who begin in youth and grow old together.

In choosing a wife I would insist on three qualifications:

1. She should be healthy. It is all well enough to admire an invalid, respect and adore her, but a healthy, live man needs a healthy woman for his companion, if he would save himself a thousand ills.

2. She should have good common sense. No matter how pretty and charming a fool may be, and some of them are wonderfully winning, it does not pay to marry her. Someone has said that pretty women with no sense are like a certain cheap automobile: they are all right to run around with, but you don't want to own one.

And 3. She should be cheerful. A sunny, brave, bright disposition is a wife's best dowry.

As to money, or station in life, or cleverness, or good looks, they should not enter at all into the matter. If I could find a girl, healthy, sensible, and cheerful, and if I loved her, I'd marry her, if I were twenty-one.

VII

IF I WERE TWENTY-ONE I WOULD SAVE MONEY

Money has a deal to do with contentment in this workaday world, and I'd have some of my own. There isn't a human being but could save a little. Every man, in America at least, could live on nine tenths of what he does live on, and save the other tenth. And the man who regularly saves no money is a fool, just a plain fool, whether he be an actor getting one thousand dollars a week or a ditch-digger getting one dollar a day.

And I would get my life insured. Life insurance is the most practical way for a young man, especially if he be a professional man, or any one not gifted with the knack of making money, to achieve financial comfort. The life insurance companies are as safe as any money institution can be. You are compelled to save in order to pay your premiums, and you probably need that sort of whip. And those dependent upon you are protected against the financial distress that would be caused by your death. I believe life insurance to be the best way to save money, at least for one who knows little about money.

VIII

IF I WERE TWENTY-ONE I WOULD STUDY THE ART OF PLEASING

Much of the content from life is due to having pleasant people around you. Hence I would form habits and cultivate manners that would please them.

For instance, I would make my personal appearance as attractive as possible. I would look clean, well-dressed, and altogether as engaging as the material I had to work with would allow.

I would be punctual. To keep people waiting is simply insolent egotism.