Part 25

I once had a friend, an otherwise good fellow, who had acquired the habit of collecting and distributing social sewage. He was not amenable to logical suggestion against the habit. He held the idea that a spade should be called a spade, and that if disagreeable things existed, honesty required that they should be discussed. One day, when my friend was carrying an unusually heavy load of sewage, and was distributing it freely, this thought came into my mind, and I gave it utterance. "You remind me of a sewer," said I.

There might have been a serious impairment of our friendship as the result of my utterance, for my friend is full of so-called "spirit," had I not immediately followed my offensive remark by an apology, and a brotherly explanation somewhat in the vein as above.

The good effect of the comparison on my friend is my excuse for introducing it here. What logic and persuasion had not been able to accomplish, offensive comparison accomplished.

My friend is too self-respecting to allow himself to be in any way related to a leaky sewer, and has reformed beautifully. A short time since, in speaking of the incident, he acknowledged its effectiveness by saying, "Every time I think of anything mean I fancy I can smell it."

CALL SUSPICION A LIAR.

It is an excellent rule to follow to call Suspicion a liar five times before basing judgment upon its testimony.

If you will take the trouble to investigate the average accuracy of your suspicions, you will note that they are wrong in so many cases that they are not a safe guide, and are generally unjust accusers.

While the person who harbors the suspicion is the worst sufferer in the end, when the accusations have been proved to be groundless, there is always a possibility of injustice, that, falling on servants or others holding inferior positions, is exceedingly cruel.

How often, in the household or in the hotel apartment, is a carelessly mislaid ring the cause of great unhappiness to both mistress and maid, because of the ready mischief of Fearthought and its attendant imp, Suspicion.

It is an axiom of the detective service, that untrained suspicion generally takes the wrong scent, and that it usually saves time to look in some other direction for the culprit, than in that pointed out by the accuser.

The elimination of the seeds of Fearthought from the mind, the possibility of which is the contention of my theory, will carry with it suspicion, and relieve one of endless chance of doing and suffering injustice, but if emancipation should, unfortunately, not have been accomplished, it is an excellent rule to follow, to meet Suspicion with suspicion, and call it "liar"! five times, before making accusation on its testimony.

I CAN'T NOT DO IT.

A person more frequently lies when he says "I can't" than when he says "I can." There are, to be sure, more things that one cannot do than there are that he can do, because the ability of the strongest and most skillful is comparatively limited; but the person who is in the habit of saying "I can't" usually says it about the wrong thing or at the wrong time.

Whenever a person says that he cannot do a thing that God has made it possible for him to do, and which he knows to be possible, he is not only a liar, but also a blasphemer.

If one is asked to climb a tree or lift a very heavy weight, there may be reason for saying "I can't," because of lack of ability, strength or practice. For the same reason, difficult "runs" on a piano, perilous feats of balancing or turning in gymnastics, and even a great many simple things that are easy to the accustomed, may be impossible to the unaccustomed without certain practice, and with reference to them it is reasonable to say, "I can't."

If, however, one is asked not to climb a tree, or not to lift a weight, or not to perform a "run" on a piano, there is no excuse for saying, "I cannot not do it," for it is as illogical as it is ungrammatical, and as false as any other lie.

Applied to mental accomplishment, it is even more illogical and false, because thought is more pliable than muscle.

Not being evil is simply not being evil, and whoever says, "I cannot not be bad," is a liar. When he is asleep he proves the lie.

There are habits-of-desire which seem attractive to perverted taste, that may need a strong counter-suggestion to correct, but there is no habit-of-desire but what can easily be corrected by the right counter-suggestion. For instance, drinking whisky habitually is recognized to be a bad habit of perverted desire, but one habitual drunkard I know of abjured whisky for life on account of having discovered a dead fly in his glass.

Sometimes it requires a mania to cure a mania. Dr. H. Holbrook Curtis, the eminent throat-specialist of New York, who has in his care, during grand opera season, millions of dollars' worth of voices, and who makes special study of the mental condition of his patients, once said to me, "The only cure that I know of for dipsomania is religio-mania." This same assertion is frequently made in quite a different way, but to the same effect. Dr. Curtis did not mean by religio-mania religious appreciation; neither did he mean by dipsomania, temperate use of stimulants. He referred to the intemperate emotion and the morbid taste. The practice of drinking unduly because of the social temptation of it may be cured by logical suggestion, but a mania may be amenable only to a mania. There is, however, no bad habit but that can be corrected by some means, and as there is some remedy for every separate phase of evil, it should be considered not respectable to say, "I cannot not do"; and, as measure of respectability is the highest social desideratum in the present age, the best weapon to be used against the toleration of evil in one's self or in others is a general protest against it on the score of its being unnecessary and not-respectable.

In my experiments I have used all sorts of means of suggestion with which to reach perverse habits of evil thought. As stated elsewhere, offensive comparisons and ridicule are more frequently effective than reason or logic, and, as such, are often necessary, in the same way that offensive medicines are sometimes effective in removing indigestible matter from the stomach,--for example, ipecac.

I had a friend who was in the habit of saying "I can't" to almost everything. The habit-of-opposition was so strong that it was the first to assert itself on every occasion. The attitude of opposition was strengthened by the perverse idea that brutal frankness is an expression of honesty, and hence reference to his honesty or dishonesty was a tender point of etiquette with my friend. To touch this tender spot, and administer the strong suggestion--medicine--necessary in the case, I hit upon this expedient:

Whenever my friend said "I can't" to a proposition which it did not fit, I immediately ejaculated "Liar!" At first there was some danger attending my experiment, but I took the precaution to be out of reach, and the fact that my intention was good assured me ultimate pardon.

At first my offensive criticism was frequently necessary, but it became less and less so, till at last the cure is so complete that the once favorite expression, "I can't," is as disagreeable to my friend, as must have been the dead fly in the glass of the drunkard previously mentioned, that was the means of curing him of a deeply rooted habit.

A MILLION TO ONE ON THE UNEXPECTED.

One evening, at a meeting of the "Ganglionics," in the city of New Orleans, I asked the president of the club, Dr. William Benjamin Smith, the question, "Why is it that the unexpected generally happens?" His reply, which induced the caption to this chapter, was, "Because the expected is only one thing, while the unexpected may be a million things."

This is really, as well as figuratively, true, and, being true, what idiots are we to waste our time and paralyze our energies, by thinking fearthought into the future, on a million-to-one chance of its hitting the mark.

There is one bull's-eye that we are sure to hit if we aim at it constantly and long enough. Death is the one universal bull's-eye that figures in every life. At the same time that we are sure of hitting it, we know by the experience of others that we do not realize death when it actually comes, for Nature kindly administers an anæsthetic just before death, and sometimes long before. Then why should we fear even death?