diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/64138-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64138-0.txt | 7820 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 7820 deletions
diff --git a/old/64138-0.txt b/old/64138-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f9826ca..0000000 --- a/old/64138-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7820 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The psychology of sleep, by Bolton Hall - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The psychology of sleep - -Author: Bolton Hall - -Release Date: December 26, 2020 [eBook #64138] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Turgut Dincer, Les Galloway and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SLEEP *** - Transcriber’s Notes - -Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations -in hyphenation and accents and all other spelling and punctuation -remains unchanged. - -The quotation from Ballad of Reading Gaol, (Chapter VIII) has been -corrected from - - And Sleep will not lie down but walks - And wild-eyed cries to time. - to - And Sleep will not lie down but walks - Wild-eyed and cries to time. - -Footnotes are located at the end of the relevant paragraphs. - -Italics are represented thus _italic_. - - - - -[Illustration: BOLTON HALL - -“THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SLEEP”] - - - - - THE PSYCHOLOGY OF - SLEEP - - BY - BOLTON HALL, M.A. - - Author of “Three Acres and Liberty,” “Things as They Are,” - “Free America,” etc. - - With an Introduction - BY - EDWARD MOFFAT WEYER, Ph.D. - Professor of Philosophy, Washington and Jefferson College - - [Illustration] - - - NEW YORK - MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY - 1917 - - - - - Copyright, 1911, by - MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY - NEW YORK - - _All rights reserved_ - Published October, 1911 - - - THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS - RAHWAY, N. J. - - - - - TO THE MEMORY OF - - THE REVEREND DR. JOHN HALL - - WHO PREACHED FROM THE WORD - WHAT I TEACH FROM THE WORLD - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -At the request of the author, I have read this book in proof sheets, -and, from the point of view of one interested in psychology, I have -suggested many amendments which have all, I think, been adopted. - -As will be seen by the intelligent reader, the best sleep involves more -than a normal body; it involves healthy thought and the application -to our daily lives of the moral principles laid down by our great -spiritual teachers. - -The cure of sleeplessness has hitherto been left largely to the -physician, who is not always a specialist on that subject and who -will welcome a treatise that will enable his patient to co-operate -with his restorative measures. Mr. Hall has already shown in _Three -Acres and Liberty_ and in _The Garden Yard_ his ability to put into -clear, popular language and readable form scientific truths that -non-scientific people need to know and wish to learn. - -The proper management of our own bodies is even more essential to our -happiness and well-being than the proper management of the land, and I -hope that this book will be no less welcome to students and physicians -than to the great mass who for lack of knowledge or of attention do not -wholly avail themselves of the freely offered gift of sleep. - -The book may be useful to many who find it difficult to harmonize their -lives with their surroundings, and may bring to many a happier view of -the ways of God to man. - - EDWARD MOFFAT WEYER, - Washington and Jefferson College. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I SLEEP 1 - - II HOW MUCH SLEEP 5 - - III THE TIME OF SLEEP 11 - - IV WHAT SLEEP MAY MEAN 15 - - V HOW TO GO TO SLEEP 20 - - VI SLEEP IS NATURAL 26 - - VII THE DUPLEX MIND 30 - - VIII WAKEFULNESS 36 - - IX SIMPLE CAUSES OF WAKEFULNESS 40 - - X “LIGHT” SLEEPERS 47 - - XI THE GIFTS OF WAKEFULNESS 51 - - XII THE PURPOSE OF SLEEP 58 - - XIII THE SLEEP OF THE INVALID 62 - - XIV THE SLEEPLESSNESS OF PAIN 66 - - XV OPIATES 73 - - XVI DEVICES FOR GOING TO SLEEP 78 - - XVII MORE DEVICES FOR GOING TO - SLEEP 84 - - XVIII STILL FURTHER DEVICES 88 - - XIX HYPNOTIC SLEEP 94 - - XX “PERCHANCE TO DREAM” 101 - - XXI NATURAL LIVING 108 - - XXII FRESH AIR AND REFRESHING - SLEEP 113 - - XXIII THE BREATH OF LIFE 117 - - XXIV EATING AND SLEEPING 124 - - XXV SLEEPING AND EATING 128 - - XXVI SOME MODERN THEORIES OF - SLEEP 133 - - XXVII EARLY THEORIES OF SLEEP 138 - - XXVIII MORE THEORIES 142 - - XXIX STILL MORE THEORIES 147 - - XXX WE LEARN TO DO BY DOING 153 - - XXXI VAIN REGRETS 156 - - XXXII THE LOVE THAT IS PEACE 162 - - XXXIII THE SPECTER OF DEATH 167 - - XXXIV A NATURAL CHANGE 175 - - XXXV THE DISTRUST OF LIFE 180 - - XXXVI REST AND SLEEP 186 - - XXXVII THE NEED OF REST 192 - - XXXVIII SAVING OF EFFORT 196 - - XXXIX ANTAGONISM 201 - - XL STRUGGLE IN THE FAMILY 205 - - XLI UNNATURAL LAWS 210 - - XLII THE NATURAL LAW 215 - - XLIII “LETTING GO” 219 - - XLIV REST IN TRUTH 225 - - XLV THE SPAN OF LIFE 229 - - XLVI WASTE STEAM 233 - - XLVII UNDERSTANDING 238 - - XLVIII THE SUPERSTITION OF FEAR 246 - - XLIX IMAGINARY FEARS 251 - - L ILL SUCCESS 257 - - LI SOCIAL UNREST 263 - - LII ECONOMIC REST 269 - - LIII “IF HE SLEEP HE SHALL DO - WELL” 275 - - LIV CONCLUSION 280 - - APPENDICES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY 284 - - APPENDIX A 285 - - APPENDIX B 287 - - APPENDIX C 288 - - APPENDIX D 293 - - APPENDIX E 297 - - - - -FOREWORD - - -This book is intended no less for those who do sleep well than for -those who do not. It is just as important to be able to teach others -to act well as to be able to do so ourselves. To teach we must analyze -and comprehend our own action and its motives: for being able to do a -thing well is far different from being able to teach it. In order to -teach anything we must know how we do it and why others cannot do it. -We never know anything thoroughly until we have tried to teach it to -another. - -Many persons sleep well only because they are still, like little -children and animals, in the unreflective stage of life. That is the -stage of the Natural Man, and it is good in itself; but later the -mental life awakes, when consciousness of one’s self begins, and -examination of one’s own desires develops. If not rightly understood or -if not at least accepted, that development brings anxiety, unrest and -disturbance of sleep, and breaks the harmony of the whole nature. - -The highest stage of development is the spiritual, the all-conscious -state which includes and harmonizes the other two. In that we do not -lose the ready, overflowing enjoyment of our bodily exercises and -functions; rather they are intensified; the physical and the mental are -united in the complete life. - -In order to attain this harmony we must examine the means that we and -others use to gain rest and peace; some of these are instinctive and -some prudential, and we must perceive why it is that these means work -or fail to work in different cases. When, with all our getting, we have -gotten this understanding, then, and not till then, all action becomes -natural and joyful, for then we understand it all, and follow willingly -the leading of the Spirit that is in Man. - - Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, - Brother to Death, in silent darkness born. - - SAMUEL DANIEL. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -SLEEP - - Sancho Panza says: “Now, blessings light on him who first invented - sleep! Sleep which covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a - cloak; and is meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the - cold, and cold for the hot. Sleep is the current coin that purchases - all the pleasures of the world cheap, and the balance that sets the - king and shepherd, the fool and the wise man, even.”—“Don Quixote.” - - -Sleeping is the one thing that everyone practices almost daily all his -life, and that, nevertheless, hardly anyone does as well as when he -began. We have improved in our walking, talking, eating, seeing, and -in other acts of skill and habit; but, in spite of our experience, few -of us have improved in sleeping: the best sleepers only “sleep like a -child.” It must be that we do not do it wisely, else we should by this -time do it well. - -Even the race of mankind as a whole does not seem to be able to use -sleep, to summon it, or to control it any better than primitive -man did. We talk much of the need of sleep, and sagely discuss its -benefits, but we know neither how to use the faculty of sleep to the -best advantage nor how to cultivate it. - -Yet for ages men have studied the mystery of sleep. We have acquired -many interesting facts concerning its variation, and have formulated a -number of theories concerning its cause and advantages; nevertheless, -science has given us little real knowledge of sleep, and less mastery -over it. - -Mankind has had idols ever since consciousness began. Advancing -knowledge has changed the nature and number of the idols, but it has -not destroyed them. The idol of the present age is “Science,” and -men worship it in the degree that it seems to fit their needs. They -forget that Science is merely the knowledge of things and persons, -arranged and classified, so as to make it available. In its nature -it is fallible, for some new phase discovered to-day may show that -yesterday’s conclusion was formed from a theory which itself was based -on a mistaken premise. Man has caught a glimpse of something that -resembled truth, has stated it, reasoned about it, and finally either -established its authority or disproved it utterly through the discovery -of the real thing he was seeking. Either result was progress, because -man grows, as Browning says, “through catching at mistake as midway -help, till he reach fact indeed.” So there is no need to be disturbed -by the conflicting opinions of men of science touching the purpose or -method of sleep. Even the rejected theories have added to the sum of -our knowledge, and the field for investigation is still open to all -who are faithful in noting and comparing the manifestations of Nature, -which the scientists call phenomena. - -Most of what we call science has to do with physical or material -things. Consequently, we find scientists dealing mainly with what may -be called tangible phenomena, those which may be measured or weighed -or held in the hand or, at least, pinned down by pressure of thumb or -finger. - -Material Science’s estimate of man is largely gauged by - - “Things done, that took the eye and had the price; - O’er which, from level stand, - The low world laid its hand, - Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice.” - -This is the almost inevitable result of looking upon life as purely -material or physical. We must view life as physical, but not physical -only; as mental, but not mental only; as spiritual, but not spiritual -only. - -In studying sleep and its attendant phenomena all these things must be -taken into consideration. So slight a thing as fancy may profoundly -influence our acts; fancies not attributable to any material source, so -fleeting and evanescent that the clumsy net of language cannot hold -them, may induce sleep or destroy sleep. - -A review of the theories and conclusions of physicians, both scientific -and unscientific, as well as of others who have found the study of -sleep of absorbing importance, will find a place in our examination of -this vital function of organisms. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -HOW MUCH SLEEP - - Six hours in sleep, in law’s grave study six, - Four spend in prayer, the rest on Nature fix. - (Translation.) SIR EDWARD COKE. - - -Man is the highest expression yet discovered of the “living organism,” -and sleep has always taken more of his time than any other function. -Marie de Manacéïne of St. Petersburg, in her great book called -“Sleep,” says: “The weaker the consciousness is, the more easily it -is fatigued and in need of sleep; an energetic consciousness, on the -contrary, is contented with periods of sleep that are shorter, less -deep, and less frequent.” Although the consciousness of the race has -developed and strengthened enormously, and is steadily strengthening -itself, the old-fashioned idea that one-third of our time should -be spent in sleep holds the average mind as strongly as ever. We -insist upon it for the young, impress it upon everybody, and look -distrustfully upon him who is so daring and unreasonable as to say that -he requires less than eight hours of sleep. When an idea is intrenched -in the mind it is next to impossible to drive it out by reason or even -by repetition. - -It is the popular belief that Alfred the Great—who is also Alfred the -Wise and Alfred the Good (being dead so long)—divided time into three -equal parts, and taught that one part should be given to sleep. If he -had said this, it would not follow that it is the last and wisest word -on the best way to divide our time, but he did not say it. What he -said was that one-third of each day should be given to sleep, diet and -exercise: that is, that a man should devote eight hours to sleeping, -eating and whatever form of exercise or recreation he desired. - -There is nothing to show that Alfred spent even six hours in sleep, -although there is plenty of proof that he recognized the difference -between rest and sleep, for he gave the second division of the -day—eight hours—to study and to reflection, while the remaining eight -hours were to be for business. In those days kings worked hard. Sir -Henry Sumner Maine says that the list of places where King John held -court shows that even he was as active as any commercial traveler -nowadays. (“Early Law and Custom,” p. 183.) - -But the superstition that Alfred recommended eight hours for sleep will -not down, and no amount of argument or proof will change the opinion -of the average man on this point. “Our forefathers slept eight hours,” -they say; “so should we.” We forget that probably the rushlight and -the candle had much to do with the long hours of sleep in olden times. -As artificial light has improved, sleeping-time has been shortened. - -There is an old English quatrain which runs: - - “Nature requires five, - Custom gives seven, - Laziness takes nine - And wickedness eleven.” - -But sleep is a natural need, and, like any other natural need, varies -in degree in different persons. Dogs, cats and other animals generally -sleep more than we do, and their young ones sleep still more. Generally -speaking, the infant, whose mental powers have barely awakened, who is, -so far as we can tell, merely a human animal, needs more sleep than it -will ever need again in its existence. In this great need of sleep the -human animal resembles other animals. - -It frequently happens that, as a man waxes older, he requires less and -less sleep than in his growing and most active years. But old people -who have outlived their mental life come to a time when they sleep and -perform merely the physical functions like the infant; so also with -those whose energy so far exceeds their physical strength that the mere -effort of living exhausts them. This condition may be in part due to -overstrain of the powers of youth and middle age, but it also follows -the fixed idea that years diminish strength and lessen energy. It is -easy to fall into this notion, for it accords so well with the general -idea that rest must come only after the period of activity, whether -that period be a day or a lifetime. - -All of us have had periods when we have needed fewer than our average -hours of sleep. People who sleep out of doors or in thoroughly -ventilated rooms, under warm but light clothing, find that they need -less sleep than when they occupy poorly ventilated rooms and wrap -themselves in heavy, unhygienic clothing. Fresh discoveries are being -made almost daily by those who give intelligent consideration to these -things. - -Even babies differ in their need of sleep. I know one healthy, -happy, beautiful baby who has never slept the average sixteen hours -that babies are supposed to need. This child is now between three -and four years of age, and has never gone to sleep before nine or -half-past nine at night. Her parents had the common idea of long -hours of sleep for infants, and the child had a hard struggle for a -while to convince them that she had no such need: such struggles are -often called “naughtiness.” She was regularly put to bed at seven -o’clock, and all the usual devices for enticing a baby to sleep were -practiced. Sometimes she was left severely alone, sometimes she had -gentle lullabies sung to her, but, whether alone or in company, this -particular baby played and enjoyed herself until between nine and -nine-thirty, when she quietly dropped to sleep. She awoke as early as -the average baby wakes, happy and refreshed, and her parents finally -learned that there is no sleeping rule that has no exceptions, whether -applied to infants or adults. - -Drowsiness is a sign that we ought to sleep, just as hunger is a sign -that we ought to eat. Natural wakefulness means that we ought not to -sleep. The child tries to obey the promptings of nature, but we think -these promptings are wrong, if not wicked, and force him into all sorts -of bad habits. Says Michelet, “No consecrated absurdity could have -stood its ground if the man had not silenced the objections of the -child.” We are slowly learning that there is no need or function of the -body or of the mind that is exactly the same in all individuals, or -that is always the same even in the same individual. - -But, in spite of this dawning knowledge, we still view with alarm any -disregard of the rule, either in ourselves or another; so true it is, -as Thomas Paine says, that “It is a faculty of the human mind to -become what it contemplates.” We have looked upon ourselves as having -certain, unvarying, imperative needs until we have almost become -subject to them. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - THE TIME OF SLEEP - - “Women, like children, require more sleep normally than men, but - ‘Macfarlane states that they can better bear the loss of sleep, and - most physicians will agree with him.’” H. CAMPBELL. - - -The amount of sleep, like the amount of food, required by an individual -varies greatly, depending largely upon the conditions at the time. -Edison, for instance, can go days without sleep when engrossed in some -invention, and he has been quoted as saying that people sleep too much, -four hours daily being quite sufficient. - -In answer to my inquiry, Mr. Edison’s secretary wrote, “Mr. Edison -directs me to write you that the statement is correct, that for -thirty years he did not get four hours of sleep per day.” Evidently, -experience taught him that an average of four hours per day, if taken -rightly and at the right time, is enough for him. He keeps a couch in -his workroom so as to sleep when he is sleepy. He does not need a clock -to tell him when to go to bed, any more than you need a thermometer to -tell you when to pull up the blankets. - -Edison is not alone in his views on sleep. He made extensive -experiments with the two hundred workers in his own factory which -convinced him and most of them that the majority slept much too long. -The hands seem to have entered willingly into the trials: perhaps -their personal regard for him influenced their conclusions. Napoleon -Bonaparte and Frederick of Prussia were both satisfied with four hours -of sleep,[1] while Bishop Taylor was of opinion that three hours was -sufficient for any man’s needs, and Richard Baxter, who wrote “The -Saints’ Rest,” thought four hours the proper measure. - -[1] It is said, however, that in later life Napoleon carried this too -far, and was sometimes stupid for lack of sleep. - -Paul Leicester Ford, who was never a strong person, once told me that -he found four hours’ sleep enough for all purposes. He did not wish -to be understood as saying that four hours’ rest was enough, but four -hours’ sleep. He was one of the few who understood the difference -between sleep and rest. He frequently rested; his favorite practice -being to lie back in a big armchair with a book, and forget the -surrounding conditions. The book created a different set of sensations, -which, combined with the pause in physical activity, brought a sense -of rest to the frail body. He frequently got his four hours of sleep -curled up in the big chair, and was then able to go on with the work -which in a few short years made him famous. The wife of the late -George T. Angell of Boston testifies that for years he seldom slept -four hours a night, having found that, for him, more was unnecessary; -but, of course, it does not follow that no more is necessary for anyone. - -These are not unusual instances, but rather typical cases. History -and biography are full of such; each of us can probably mention one -or more persons among his own acquaintance who can do well with less -than the usual eight hours of sleep, but we have looked upon them as -exceptions and perhaps have prophesied that they will feel the evil -results later, if not now. We usually select ourselves as the standard -for all other persons, or perhaps it is more correct to say that we are -prone to select one stage of our own development as a standard, and try -to compel even our growing self to conform to that stage. When the crab -outgrows his shell it sloughs off, and, so far as we know, he offers -no objection, but takes the new shell, which answers his needs better. -But we, who consider ourselves infinitely superior to the crab, try -to compel ourselves to keep within the bounds of old thoughts, early -habits, and outgrown customs after we no longer need them. When we are -unfortunate enough to succeed, we rejoice at our cramped souls as the -Chinese woman prides herself upon her crushed, cramped, misshapen foot. - -The amount of sleep that suited you last year may not suit you to-day. -You may really be getting better sleep and so needing less of it: or -you may have to make up by quantity for a poorer quality. The test -is that, if you are sleepy in waking hours, you need better sleep or -more of it. If you are wakeful in sleeping hours, you need less sleep -or else you are not getting the right kind. Good sleep is a habit, a -natural habit as distinguished from an acquired habit, and when we -learn to take it naturally, and in natural amount, we get a great deal -more from it. It is fair to assume that purely natural habits, which -continue from age to age through all stages of human progress, are -essential to human welfare. Otherwise they would drop away from us -as many useless physical parts have dropped. If you stop to think of -this, you know that it is so; the man in the street and the girl at the -ribbon counter do not know, so there is more excuse for them if they -misunderstand. It may be that they usually sleep better than you do, -and so do not need to know it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -WHAT SLEEP MAY MEAN - - O Sleep, we are beholden to thee, Sleep, - Thou bearest angels to us in the night, - Saints out of heaven with palms. - - JEAN INGELOW. - - -We know so little about sleep, positively, that anyone may assume one -thing or another about it, so long as what he assumes accords with what -we do know positively. - -It has been surmised that, during sleep, the subconscious mind is -busy with the day’s impressions of the objective mind,[2] fitting and -relating them to past experiences, the sum of which makes up the man -himself. The subconscious mind is, in a sense, man’s attitude to life. -It receives suggestions more easily than the objective mind receives -them, and has more effect upon man’s understanding of life. If our last -conscious thought is a loving thought toward all living things, we have -aided the latent mind in its effort to get in tune with the infinite -harmony of life. Alice Herring Christopher, the metaphysician, once -told me that every night as she drops off to sleep she says to herself -that she is going to have a lovely time, and as a consequence she does; -and that, on waking, she tries to realize how delightful her sleep has -been. - -[2] In an examination of the theory of the “subjective” and the -“objective mind,” see chap. vii. - -There is an old saying that, when a baby smiles in its sleep, it is -because the angels are whispering to it, and, if we kept ourselves in -communion with the substance of things, “angels” might bring us sweet -messages, too. They surely will, if we drop to sleep as lovingly and -peacefully as a little child. - -Another friend of mine, who has the faculty of wearing herself out -with the excitement of each day’s experiences, is learning to offset -this unnecessary drain upon her strength by suggesting to herself -each night, “I shall wake rested and refreshed in the morning.” By -this means she is gaining in nervous poise, and averting the numerous -“break-downs” from which she used to suffer. Having made this much -progress,—which brings her “not far from the kingdom,”—it only remains -for her to make the full claim for the fulfillment of the promise, “Ye -shall find rest to your souls,” to secure it. - -For the most part, men still regard sleep as a symbol of death, that -time when we shall know nothing of what goes on about us; when, -according to general belief, we no longer grow or enjoy. We exclaim -with Hesiod, “Sleep—the Brother of Death and the Son of Night!” But -the new idea of sleep as a growing time is overcoming that old idea of -sleep as death, and is beginning to rob even the great change itself of -its terrors. We are beginning to see that sleep does not interfere with -the activity of the mind, but simply gives it an opportunity to digest -and absorb impressions. In the same way it may be that death does not -interfere with the activity of the real man, but may afford him an -opportunity to get the full meaning of the experiences he had while -sojourning in the objective world. - -As it is not conceivable that life began with our individual appearance -in this world, so it is not likely that it will end when our individual -consciousness ceases. The sum of what we have learned and of what we -have done must go on, else all the learning and the doing would be for -naught. So this thing which was “I”—and will continue to be the sum -of that “I,” no matter whether I am conscious of it or not—will use -and absorb all that has been thought or done in the body, and accept or -reject its results. - -It will all count in that next experience, and help us to be, as -Browning says: - - “Fearless and unperplexed - When I wage battle next, - What weapons to select, what armor to endue.” - -The sum of our experiences added to the sum of all that have gone -before will help us to understand life better when and wherever we are -again conscious of it, just as the experiences of each day help us to -live the next day better. In the active, waking world the perceptive -mind receives impressions which the reflective mind stores up and -brings to bear upon our daily life and thought, thus developing greater -consciousness in the individual; so the interruption of all physical -activity may be necessary to the further development of the real and -intangible man. - -As one awakes each morning from a night’s sleep a new man, physically -and mentally, although not necessarily aware of any change, so may our -awakening be from the last sleep that men call death. It may be that -we shall arise to new experiences, or perhaps to further development -in a world that we cannot touch with our hands. But in either case we -may not doubt that the awakening will be good, for all life is good. -For, after all, we should know none of the joys of living if we had not -tried them. Life is consciousness, and hardly one of us would prefer -never to have lived; to have had no share in that which has meant -_man_; the growth and culmination of unnumbered centuries. Life is one, -a whole, and the “slings and arrows” of daily worries and toil are -only an unimportant part of it. And, if it is so good that we wish -to stay here and hope to enjoy it, if we can see how it has steadily -improved and beautified in the ages that have passed, we cannot fail to -see that all it may yet become will also be good. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -HOW TO GO TO SLEEP - - Sleep sweetly, tender heart in peace! - - TENNYSON. - - -Man craves sleep. If we know of a friend who is suffering in body -or mind we wish him sleep; mothers soothe their pain-racked or -terrified children to sleep with every gentle art known to them; -if, for any reason, man is out of harmony with his life as he sees -it, he instinctively turns to “Nature’s sweet restorer.” It is a -sovereign balm for many ills, yet we seldom recognize wherein its -virtue lies. During his waking hours man is frequently at odds with -his surroundings. He is out of tune with the real things of life and -is apt to mistake the material side of his life for the whole of his -being. But when sleeping he is less hampered with the impressions of -the workaday world, less resistant, and, therefore, more harmonious. It -is in this mental relaxation that the true benefit of sleep consists. - -We have as yet no conception of the immense import of suggestion to -ourselves or others as a cure for body or mind. Suggestions may often -be made to a person sound asleep, but they are most effective just at -the time when the reason and the will are losing control of the mind, -although consciousness has not yet lost its grip. - -Accordingly it helps our growth to relax the whole nature before going -to sleep and to drop into the mind the thought of peace and harmony; -the assurance that all is and must be well. To do this is to get the -best sort of sleep, the sleep that binds us closer to our fellows and -makes us feel the oneness of all life. This is the sleep from which we -awake refreshed, ready to take up the day’s duties cheerfully. It is an -old country saying, when a person seems what is called “out of sorts” -in the morning, that “he got out on the wrong side of the bed.” But it -is much more likely that he went to sleep in the wrong way: that is, in -an unloving frame of mind. - -“Let not the sun go down upon your wrath” has a wider significance -than we usually realize. As a matter of mere physical well-being, if we -have allowed the lack of knowledge or the selfishness of our brother -to annoy or irritate us, it is well to wipe away all traces of that -irritation before lying down to rest. It is well, when possible, to -seek the “little one” we have offended, through our own ignorance or -selfishness, and make our peace by confessing the fault; while, if we -are still self-centered enough to feel that our brother has dealt -harshly with us, we may remove all the sting by thinking lovingly -of him. As the soft answer turneth away wrath, so the soft attitude -turneth out wrath, both from ourselves and from him. Each day should -complete itself. Sufficient unto the day is the good and the evil -thereof, and to attempt to carry over the evil through resentment until -another day is but to lay up trouble for ourselves. - -For, after all, it is lack of knowledge or understanding that makes our -brother unkind to us or us to him. Each is doing the best he can, being -such a man as he is. Each of us has still some of that separateness -which makes us regard our own interests as apart from other interests, -or hostile to them. What our brother does, therefore, he does because -it seems to him the best thing for himself. As soon as he sees that -one cannot truly prosper at the expense of another, because we are all -one, he will give up his stupid ways—as we shall give up our stupid -ways when we see that same truth. Until then it is useless to be angry -or upset, for that is only to show that we, too, are unable to see -the oneness of all. As it is bad for our brother that he is so blind, -it were more consistent that we should feel sorrow than anger at his -self-injury. - -Epictetus understood that, nineteen hundred years ago, and we have not -become so stupid as to deny it; we only forget. He saw that there is -only one kind of motive in all men—they are moved by what they think is -right and best for themselves. Said he, “It is impossible to judge one -thing best for me and to seek a different one, to judge one thing right -and be inclined towards another.” We all know this about ourselves, but -we do not see it so plainly about others. - -If we felt this about all men, we should not have “indignation with -the multitude.” For what are all their wrongdoings? Is it not that they -are “mistaken about the things that are good and evil? Shall we then -be indignant with them, or shall we only pity them?... Show them the -error and we shall see how they will cease from it when they really see -it. But, if they do not see the error, they have naught better than the -deceptive appearance of the thing as it looks to them.” For, argues -Epictetus, “this man who errs and is deceived concerning things of the -greatest moment is blinded, not in the vision that distinguished black -and white, but in the judgment which distinguished Good and Evil.... If -it is the greatest misfortune to be deprived of the greatest things, -and the greatest thing in every man is a _Will_ such as he ought to -have, and if one be deprived of this, why are we still indignant with -him?... We need not be moved contrary to Nature by the evil deeds of -other men. Pity them rather, be not inclined to offense and hatred.... -When someone may do us an injury or speak ill of us, remember that he -does it or speaks it, believing that it is meet and best for him to do -so. It is not possible, then, that he can do the thing that appears -best to you, but the thing that appears best to him. Wherefore, if good -appears evil to him, it is he that is injured, being deceived. For, if -anyone takes a true consequence to be false, it is not the consequence -that is injured, but he is injured who is deceived. Setting out, then, -with these opinions, you will bear a gentle mind toward any man who -may injure you. For, say on each occasion, ‘so it appeared to him.’” -Forgive: and if you must blame somebody, blame yourself—you can forgive -yourself so easily. - -So we shall find sleep more restful if we leave behind us all the -shortcomings of ourselves and of our fellows, and approach that season -of seeming forgetfulness with love towards all. Calm as an infant’s -sleep will be the slumber of the all-loving man, and for him the new -day will dawn with increased brightness; his strength shall be renewed, -and his joy be more abundant. - -If we always lie down to sleep with this attitude, regarding the -darkness not merely as the time when the physical man should rest, -but also as a growing time for the spiritual man, it will not be long -before we adjust our daily life to more harmonious relations with the -universe. The more lovingly we live, the sweeter and sounder will be -our slumber, for so it is that “He giveth his beloved sleep.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -SLEEP IS NATURAL - - Sleep is the joy of life. - - WU TING FANG. - - -Man has not gone so far beyond the animal stage of development as -to have cast aside all the weights that hinder him in his further -progress. He has considered three substantial meals daily necessary to -his health, and if, for any reason, his system refused to take that -quantity of food, he has worried himself almost into a fever over it. -Or, he has consulted a physician who has usually given him a tonic; -a tonic is something to stimulate the jaded appetite, or compel the -surfeited stomach to do more work than it should. - -Recent research has shown that this overworking of the digestive organs -is a fruitful source of physical disease, that it dulls the mind and -chills the spirit. Our loving Mother Nature punishes each excess, -because pain quickest draws our attention to our wrongdoing. The flesh -strives with us as well as the Spirit, for we reap in our own bodies -the fruit of our ways; still man looks everywhere but within for -advice and counsel. His feelings may warn him that he is pursuing the -wrong course, but, until some authority has assured him that he is -doing wrong, he rarely pays heed to his inner warnings. - -Gluttony is one of the evils which Nature tries to save man from. The -stomach rebels when it is made to dispose of too much material, and -calls in the rest of the body to assist in making a protest. The head -aches, the heart works uneasily, the liver and bowels become inactive, -the limbs grow heavy, and the whole abused man is ill at ease. A bad -breath is worse than an evil spirit, and a bad digestion is a surer -sign of ill-doing than a bad conscience. Nature has done her best to -show the foolishness of overeating; it is not her fault if man persists -in this course in spite of her warnings, but she takes care that he -pays the price of his wrongdoing, sometimes in sleeplessness, often in -even more serious ways. - -Overeating has been the fashion for centuries. We have thought that, -the more we eat, the stronger we should become, and mankind has -followed that fashion despite the ills that it has caused, forgetting -that it is what we digest, not what we eat, that nourishes. The effects -of overeating are both direct and indirect. The direct effects are -those that dog the heels of the offense. These effects, when acute, -have even caused death in a few hours or days, as with King John and -his “dish of lamprey eels,” but some of the indirect effects are more -direful. Much of the use of alcoholic liquors is due to overeating. -When we have eaten too much, and the digestive organs are so overloaded -that they cannot work, we take alcohol in some form to stimulate them -to greater action. As we continue the wrong practice, it requires more -and more liquor to stimulate us, usually ending in stupor, a parody of -sleep. In a short time that which we used to cure or offset one evil -has created a habit, in itself a greater evil. - -It took us a long time to see the connection between illness, -drunkenness, and overeating. We now know that drink becomes a habit and -after that a disease. If we look at mankind in the mass, drunkenness -appears plainly as the result of two general causes, overstimulation of -the indulgent classes, and the malnutrition that craves stimulants in -the masses of the underfed. - -Like every other faculty, consciousness becomes dulled through lack -of exercise. It follows that oversleeping inclines to dullness and -stupidity. Further, the body will readily accommodate itself to the -physiological conditions that prevail during sleep, to a changed blood -circulation, and breathing. The oversleeping may come to resemble -the hibernation of some animals. For those inclined to drowsiness or -to unnaturally long sleep, real interests in life are helpful, also -amusements, pleasant society in the evenings, and even tea and coffee -or other mild stimulants are useful. - -Meanwhile, some people, at least, think they suffer from insomnia, who -in fact suffer from going to bed too soon or lying abed too late—in the -struggle to sleep more than they need. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE DUPLEX MIND - - Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth - Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep. - - MILTON. - - -We must not forget that it is easy to miss the good results of any -natural function, and, through misuse, get only poor results. As in the -matter of eating, we should get only good from satisfying our hunger, -but the acquired habit of eating more than we need or can digest does -incalculable harm. In the same way we may misuse sleep, and so lose its -best benefits. - -“Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,” may be made, as -Shakespeare says, a repairing time as well as a resting time, for as -Iamblichus, the Neo-Platonic philosopher saw, “The night-time of the -body is the daytime of the soul.” With some insight into the best uses -of this natural habit, Iamblichus further said that, during sleep, -“the nobler part of the soul is united by abstraction to higher -natures and becomes a participant in the wisdom and foreknowledge of -the gods.” Dr. Thomas J. Hudson’s claim made a very popular appeal, -that there is a subjective mind made up of our inner knowledge, our -own intuitions and mental processes. He alleged it to be a part -of our being that is able, in some instances—as in the case of -“lightning calculators,” of mind-readers and of some clairvoyants—to -perceive the relations of things without reasoning them out, and to -perceive the fixed laws of Nature without the aid of the senses.[3] He -concluded that this mind or this faculty of mind is an inheritance from -experiences and conclusions of the race in its upward growth. - -[3] “Law of Psychic Phenomena,” chap. vi. - -Swedenborg also, who was at least a noted scientist, divided the mind -into the Interior, corresponding to the subjective mind, and the -Exterior or reasoning memory.[4] - -[4] Arcana Coelestia, § 1772. - -The objective mind, as it may be called, is what we all know as mind -or intellect, that part which deals with external objects, getting -its impressions and reaching its conclusions from observation. It is -differently affected in different individuals by such purely physical -things as sight and hearing. For a proof of this, ask any two persons -who have seen and heard and been affected by something you have seen -and felt, to describe its effect upon them, and the mental picture they -have of it. Not only will they not agree in detail with each other, -but you will find that neither has seen it in the same way that you -have. - -Modern science cannot accept the statement that foreign, mysterious -agencies control the mind during sleep; but may not some such -experience as that which Iamblichus describes, come to us in sleep by -the spirit working, not from without, but from within us? Our spiritual -nature is freed at night from the incessant calls that beset us during -the day. In the calm that comes over it in the night-time the doors of -the storehouses of memory may stand wide open before it, and it may -lead perhaps a broader, fuller life. - -Professor William James has shown that in our waking hours, each of us -is not so much a single self as a cluster of separate selves—a business -self, social self, the material self, and so on—all making up the man -as his casual acquaintances know him. Professor James found that in -every individual there is rivalry and sometimes discord among these -partial selves. Now may it not be that in the silence, these warring -factions lose their identity in a state of broader conscious life, and -merge themselves into a harmoniously acting “Spiritual Me”? - -From the standpoint of this spiritual self, then, the waking state -shows only the objective aspects of the mind. It is that understanding -which shows us all men working, whether willingly or unwillingly, for -the common good, and each receiving what he needs or has power to use. -It is a recognition that all men are comprehended in the Spirit’s -plan, that nothing can be for the common harm; that even mistakes work -out for good, and that life gives to each the experience from which -he will get most development and the power which he can best use and -relate to his whole life. From the spiritual standpoint the subjective -mind is the indwelling life of the soul; and its growth a matter of -gradual self-attainment. At its highest stage it is the realization of -that which we have in common with everyone—that understanding and that -consciousness of the law of harmony which makes us love all mankind, -and live in communion with the love that is the substance of all -things. The separate self does not appear at all on the horizon of such -thought and purpose. - -We have all had a consciousness of this love at some time in our lives, -no matter how the cares of the world may have choked it out. It was -this consciousness that made a little boy say, in a burst of happiness, -“I love everything, and everything loves me.” When we “become like a -little child” in this sense, we, too, recognize the love that binds all -life in one. - -When we can harmonize these two—the subconscious, that knows no -separate self, with the objective, that can see all men as one because -it sees all men as working for the same end—we shall have rest and -harmony instead of worry, the insanity of the spiritual mind. - -The objective mind which is active during waking hours, apparently -rests during sleep; the subconscious mind is ever busy. Like the heart -or the digestive organs, the subconscious mind carries on its work -during that break in our usual consciousness which we call sleep. How -this is done we do not know, any more than we know how the physical -organs carry on their work while we are wrapped in slumber and -unconscious of all about us. There are very few, though, who have not -had some proof of the activity of the latent mind during sleep. That -somehow this under-mind does work in an “uncanny” way—that is to say, -in an unknown way—is shown by the fact that most persons can wake up at -any hour that they fix in their minds without being called and without -the abominable alarm clock. - -It is a common enough thing to hear people say, “I do not know how I -knew that; I never remember hearing it; it just came to me.” Or, “I -tried and tried to think of that yesterday, and could not, but, when -I woke this morning, it was the first thing that came to my mind.” -Such incidents show that some process of which we are not objectively -conscious is going on all the time; that no mental experience is -destroyed or wholly dissipated. The common wish is “to sleep over” -any perplexing matter. After a good sleep our ideas are often better -arranged than when we fell asleep. - -I have a friend who drops all her problems into her subconscious -thought, refuses to be “exercised in her mind” about them, and leaves -them for the latent mind to answer. So long as she views them from the -objective, conscious point of view only, she finds herself worrying -and losing sleep. The sleep-won mind, the “all-knowing Self,” as it -were, is not touched by worry, perhaps because, in communion with -the substance of all experience, it perceives that there are few -“problems” in life, when she does not persist in regarding as a -“problem” each separate experience. - -We must learn to connect each experience with what we know of our life -up to that point and with what we think it is meant to be. This effort -will often show us, or itself prove to be, the key to the “problem.” -But it is only the scientific expert, one who has a perfect conception -of the workings of all the parts of the frame, who can take one bone -and reconstruct from it the entire structure of the extinct animal. -That would be impossible for the tyro, and most of us are tyros in the -science of living. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -WAKEFULNESS - - And Sleep will not lie down but walks - Wild-eyed and cries to time. - - “Ballad of Reading Gaol.” OSCAR WILDE. - - -The fact that we confound rest and sleep makes us regard wakefulness as -an evil. We go to bed to sleep, and, if sleep does not come at once, -we begin to fret and to toss and we try by every means that we know -to force ourselves to sleep. We never accomplish anything that way, -because it is essentially opposed to the nature of sleep. Sleep, to be -refreshing, must be complete relaxation of mind and body, and that is -not gained by striving. Natural sleep is merely “letting go,” which is -just what so many find hard to do. The course is so simple and plain -that “the wayfaring man, though a fool, _need_ not err therein,” but -he often does err in spite of its simplicity; and sometimes, perhaps, -even because of its simplicity. - -Naaman, captain of the host of Syria, went to the Israelitish prophet, -Elisha, to be cured of his leprosy. As he was a great man with his -master, he expected some special ceremony done for him. Imagine his -surprise and wrath when bidden to wash in the River Jordan. - -At first Naaman went away in a rage; such advice ill-befitted his ideas -of his needs. If it were enough that he should bathe in a river, why -in Jordan? “Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better -than all the waters of Israel?” Why not wash in them and be clean? And -Naaman turned and went away. - -But his servants questioned him and said: “Had the prophet bid thee do -some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it? How much rather then -when he saith to thee ‘wash and be clean’?” Then Naaman yielded and was -made whole. - -This story is a picture of our own ways. We despise the remedy that is -simple, and we feel sure that, had it been some great thing, we should -have found it easier to do. We are unwilling to accept simple, natural -explanations of our difficulties. We feel so because we think so -highly of ourselves. We forget that the greatest things are often the -simplest, and, if the natural things are too hard for us to do, it is -because we lack that true greatness which sees and welcomes directness. - -If man understood his life better, he would cease to think of anything -as an “accident” without a cause. He would know that nothing can occur -to him that does not signify something to him in relation to his share -in the plan of the Universe. He would understand that so simple a thing -as whether or not he shall fall asleep as soon as he lies down to rest, -or whether he shall find that “sleep has forsaken his eyes and slumber -his eyelids,” may be an experience of great importance to him. - -Every incident of life is subject to law; yet many of the most -important functions of the body are performed without any consciousness -of their relation and dependence one upon another: as, for instance, -breathing upon the circulation of the blood, which in turn depends -upon the heart’s pumping, and that upon the digestion, and that upon -the food, and so on; the same is true of mental activities, and must -be true of spiritual activities, for the same law runs through all of -life. The wakefulness surely has some cause and some significance, else -it had not been. - -When something “goes wrong,” we are forced to look into our case, and -note the relation of one state of mind or body to other states. It is -then, if ever, that we learn which is cause and which is effect; how -mistakes result in pain and pain warns us of mistakes, and how one -necessarily follows the other. If it were not for the pain that follows -the violation of some natural law, man might go on in his unwise course -until he had altogether destroyed his physical body. - -It is the pain from the burn on the tiny hand that warns the infant -not again to touch what he is told is “hot.” If fire did not pain the -body, we might be destroyed by flames without making any effort to -escape. In fact, the chilliness and numbness of the African “sleeping -sickness” often lead patients actually to burn off their hands or feet -in the effort to get warm. It is quite possible that, if there were no -pains in child-birth, women would bear children continually until they -were themselves exhausted or their progeny overran one another. It is -pain that tells us that a tooth is decayed, so that even toothache may -be a blessing. - -Therefore, if we are wise, instead of rebelling against pain, we should -accept it gratefully as the helper and the possible preserver of our -lives, and we should accept the wakefulness quietly as the sign of -something that needs correction, or else as an opportunity for quiet -thought and reflection. - -When we have found what is wrong, and do our best to correct it, not -only is the attention drawn from the pain to the remedy, but the effort -to relieve it lessens the effect of the suffering.[5] - -[5] Tolstoy has traced out the working of that curious and benign -dispensation. See chap. xvii, “Life and Love and Peace,” where the -present author has fully considered his views. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -SIMPLE CAUSES OF WAKEFULNESS - - Where care lodges, sleep will never lie. - - SHAKESPEARE. - - -We all know the blessing of sleep, but it is hard to show the sufferer -that wakefulness is useful. - -Wakefulness always has some cause, and, if we truly wish to be cured -of it, it will be well to seek the cause rather than to grumble at the -wakefulness itself. It is not enough to know what is the matter, we -must find out why it is the matter. To find the cause of any condition -simplifies matters; it makes the course we must follow clearer. If the -cause can be removed, we should bend all our energies to removing it; -to paraphrase Stephen Pearl Andrews’ saying—we are not to be subject -to circumstances, but rather to make ourselves center-stances. But, -if the matter be something over which we have no control, there are -two courses open to us: the first is to accept the condition and adapt -ourselves to it; the second is to devise some method by which we may -gain control over it. - -A childish story[6] will illustrate this: - -[6] Republished by permission of the Century Company. - - Once there was a squirrel that did not like its home, and it used to - scold and find fault with everything. Its papa squirrel had long gray - whiskers, so he was wise. He said to the squirrel: “My dear, as you - do not like your home, there are three sensible things you could do: - - Leave it, - or Change it, - or Suit yourself to it. - - Any one of these would help you in your trouble.” But the little - squirrel said, “Oh! I do not want to do any of those; I had rather - sit on the branch of a tree and scold.” “Well,” said the papa - squirrel, “if you must do that, whenever you want to scold, just go - out on a branch and scold away at someone you do not know.” The little - squirrel blushed so much that he became a red squirrel, and you will - notice that to this day red squirrels do just that thing. - -Whatever course we pursue, we find something to do in connection with -the underlying principle or cause; this _doing_ prevents us from -wasting energy and patience upon mere effects. That is an advantage, -for any action relieves mental pain, and often relieves physical pain, -too. The victim writhes not only in its effort to escape, but in the -effort to express its feeling, to respond to the excited nerves, just -as we dance about or hop up and down when we hit our finger with the -hammer. We often hear people deplore that their suffering is increased -because they can do nothing to remedy the trouble. We frequently -exclaim, “It would be easier to bear, if only I could _do_ something.” -A knowledge of what to do and how to do it always helps toward peace of -mind. - -When yellow fever was one of the “mysterious dispensations of -Providence,” men of science fought only its symptoms, with very -indifferent success. The people in the district where the fever broke -out were panic-stricken; those who could fled from the place; those -who were compelled to remain went about in fear of their lives. Now -that we believe that the bite of an infected mosquito is the once -“mysterious dispensation,” we no longer allow the infection to spread. -Fear and unreason might have continued to treat outbreaks and epidemics -of yellow fever for centuries to come without lasting advantage to the -plague-ridden spots, but the knowledge of what to do and how to do it -has made yellow fever a preventable evil. It has no terrors for an -intelligent community. - -So with wakefulness. If we find ourselves wakeful when we should be -sleeping, the first thing to do is to find the reason. - -Sometimes we cause our own sleeplessness unsuspectingly, but none -the less deliberately, by the false requirements that we lay upon -ourselves. People often say, “I could not go to sleep in a room like -that.” If there is time and opportunity to put the room in order, why -do it; but, if not, we can resolve, as the boys say, to “forget it.” -Many a woman frets and disturbs herself continually by putting things -in what she considers order, which things are no better for being -rearranged and which generally cannot stay in order—endless pushing -in of chairs and placing pamphlets or books with the little ones on -top and the big ones at the bottom; a constant and wearisome struggle -to keep all the shades in the house in a line. The labor of Sisyphus, -who had forever to roll a great stone up a sand hill, would be restful -compared with that. I knew a man once who would be entirely upset, and -would upset all the people about him, if his stockings that came from -the wash were not placed below those in the drawer so that they would -surely be used in rotation. - -Some persons cannot sleep after dawn if the light shines on their -faces, yet are so possessed by the idea of order that they will not -move the bed, disarrange the furniture to make a screen, or even sleep -with their heads at the foot of the bed. - -Another person insists always on being waked up by the last person to -come home in order to be sure that the house was closed up. Still -another cannot go to sleep till he has balanced up every cent of petty -cash spent that day. - -Many persons spend the most of their thought and exhaust themselves -over things that are just as trivial and inconsequent as these; though -they seem important to them. When anything has become such a habit, -even though reasonable in itself, that you cannot sleep without it, you -are paying too dear for it and it is time to change it. There is danger -even in good habits—they may master us. - -It may be that we have had some stimulating mental experience which -has not yet relaxed its grip upon our attention. In such case even -bodily weariness is apt to be forgotten, for, after all, every physical -sensation is dependent upon some mental condition, whether fleeting or -permanent. It is this interdependence of physical feeling and thought -which makes it possible to recall emotions of pain or sorrow, of -comfort or joy. The sight, the touch, or the smell of certain things -will bring back sensations that once accompanied them, whether those -sensations be painful or pleasant. - -If the mind has been so stimulated that it cannot relax, there is -little likelihood that sleep will come quickly, but we cannot relax by -impatience. Tossing and turning will not quiet the mind; we must either -accept the condition calmly and follow out the train of thought that -has started or deliberately side-track the exciting cause. This may be -done by setting up a counter activity in the mind along quieting lines. -For instance, if one had walked the streets late on some such occasion -as a New Year’s Eve celebration in New York, and had become stimulated -by the lights and the crowds, he might deliberately recall the most -peaceful day in the country that it had been his fortune ever to know. - -A typical scene of this sort is a warm Sunday in late spring, when -all the usual activities of country life have ceased; the air is -heavy with the scent of clover and field flowers, the apple blossoms, -and the thousand odors of the fresh country field; the air moving so -lazily that it scarcely stirs the trees; the cow chewing the meditative -cud; the bees buzzing dreamily; the very horses, standing under the -shed of the little white country church, whinnying softly to each -other, as knowing that a spell of peace is over all, a spell that must -not be broken; while from the church itself comes the drone of the -preacher,—each little stir a part of the peace that broods over the -day. Think of some such thing as that, recall it in all its details, -and the chances are that the drowsiness induced at the time, whether -one were of the congregation or a mere onlooker, will again steal over -the eyelids and, before one is aware of any change, he is well on the -way to the land of dreams. - -In the same way if one has read an exciting book, or has seen a -thrilling play, one may either live them over until the feelings -exhaust themselves, because no longer new, or one may deliberately -divert one’s self from thinking of them and devote the attention to -more soothing things. Either course removes all cause for impatience -with the fact of wakefulness and leaves the mind quieted. This tends to -drowsiness, even if it does not really induce sleep. - -Sometimes it may help us if we rise and read some quieting book, not -“a thriller.” Such a volume as Thoreau’s “Walden,” or that more modern -little volume, “Adventures in Contentment,” by David Grayson, or we -may repeat some soothing poem like Tennyson’s “Sweet and Low,” or -Burroughs’ “My Own Shall Come to Me” and similar verses. - -Any of these will help to relax tension, and put us in a more restful -frame of mind, and, as minds differ, so some persons will find books -and verses of other sorts to have the desired effect upon them. - -When we cannot sleep, to rise, throw back the bed-clothes so as to cool -the bed, walk about the room, go to the window and fill the lungs with -oxygen often tend to quiet the body and mind. We must learn to know our -own needs and to find out each for himself what meets them. To “know -thyself” is only the first step to control thyself. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -“LIGHT” SLEEPERS - - He sleeps well who knows not that he sleeps ill. - - PUBLIUS SYRUS (42 B.C.). - - -Someone may say that such things as stimulation of the mind are simple -causes of wakefulness, and so easily overcome that it is hardly -necessary to consider them; yet, simple as they are, they frequently -make the wakeful one impatient. The more complex causes are really as -easily dealt with as these simple ones, when once we have learned to -control the mind. Take, for instance, the complaining “light sleeper” -who cannot sleep if anybody else makes a noise, or if anything out -of the ordinary occurs. He is in a steady state of apprehension lest -something will happen to disturb his rest; and generally something does -happen. A baby cries, a dog barks, a heavily-laden team lumbers by, -an automobile honks, a locomotive shrieks, or a steamer whistles, and -sleep forsakes him for the night. - -He pronounces anathema on the offending cause; he pities himself for -his sensitiveness, at the same time that he almost despises his -fellows who are so “dead and unresponsive that they can sleep through -such a racket” he suffers at the thought that he may get no more sleep, -yet he enjoys the prospect of rehearsing to a sympathizing audience in -the morning the tortures of such a delicate organization as his. This -sort of sleeplessness is made up of so many contributing causes that -it is difficult for any but the most perfectly honest man to decide -what makes him so susceptible to noise. But it is undoubtedly true that -some of these causes are due to fear, to training, and, most of all, to -self-interest. - -It is always difficult to make the super-sensitive person realize -that his suffering is due chiefly to self-consideration and a desire -to control others. It is an undue recognition of one’s own claim upon -the very circumstances of life that makes one offer so many surfaces -which may be “hurt.” We may be disturbed in our sleep by the ordinary -pursuits of our fellows because we have an exaggerated idea of the -importance of certain conditions that appeal to us and make for our -comfort. We wish to sleep at a certain time, and we should like to -regulate all our neighbors so that they, too, should suspend all -activities at that same time. We accustom ourselves to quiet; and then -insist that we cannot do without it. - -There is a story told of a man working in a foundry who formed a part -of two “shifts” of workmen and betweenwhiles slept for some hours in -the foundry. When released from that strain, he found that he could not -sleep at home because it was so quiet, and it became necessary for the -members of his family to unite in making ringing, pounding noises to -lull him to slumber. - -It is a well-known fact that those who live near the cataracts of -the Nile cannot sleep if they get beyond the sound of the pounding. -Soldiers, who are wearied after a hard day’s march or fighting, will -sleep soundly beside twenty-four pounder guns steadily firing; or even -sleep on the march, their legs moving mechanically though their senses -are steeped in sleep. - -Country people coming to the city are kept awake by the unusual street -noises, while city-dwellers, accustomed to the roar of elevated or -subway trains, are unable to sleep in the country because of the -intense silence which Nature’s noises often emphasize. - -Unreflecting man is a creature of habit: if any change occurs in his -routine, he finds it difficult to adapt himself to it. He seldom comes -to understand that it is chiefly insistence upon his own needs as apart -from the needs or interests of others that makes him require certain -conditions for sleeping. In either case the cause of wakefulness is -easily found; but nobody other than the individual most concerned can -remove it. - -If we are living in selfish disharmony with our fellows; if we are -indulging feelings of envy, malice, uncharitableness or hatred towards -those about us, we are not likely to sleep refreshingly. All such -emotions do more harm to the one who feels them than to those against -whom they are directed. They may undermine the health, destroy the -mental poise, and blot out the sense of kinship with mankind. The -Hebrews understood that so well that he who would offer a sacrifice is -reminded that, if he have aught against his brother, he must leave his -gift at the altar and make his peace before he can offer an acceptable -sacrifice to God. - -If wakefulness be the result of impatience with our brother, there is -only one cure for it: that is, to replace it with loving patience. It -is the lack of love, or the possession of very narrow love, that causes -us pain in our relations with other people. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE GIFTS OF WAKEFULNESS - - -“But,” you say, “I am not full of uncharitableness towards my fellows -and I am willing they should live their own lives; I am greatly worried -about my own affairs and all my cares come trooping back to me as -soon as I lie down. I cannot sleep for worry.” Yes; but is not that -only another form of selfishness? A subtle form, but none the less -disturbing. Moreover, it is shortsighted, as is all selfishness, for it -is a boomerang. If the worry is about business, we shall need a clear -brain and a steady nerve to face the condition that is causing the -uneasiness; and worry at night will not give us these. On the contrary, -it will destroy what remnant of poise we may have. - -The solution of trouble is not found in worry. Just recall how often -you have said yourself, or heard somebody say, “After all my worrying -it came out all right; it is strange that I never once thought of that -way.” Worry prevents clear thinking, or, indeed, thinking of any sort. -We go around and around in a circle until we grow giddy and faint -with apprehension, while all the time we might have peace if we but -looked at life aright, to see that, in the words of the old Book, -“it is all very good.” When a mechanic is putting a machine together -and finds that the parts do not fit, that they do not “go right” or -harmonize, he will reach one of two conclusions. Either the maker did -not know his business, and so did not make the parts to fit, or else -he, himself, is putting them together in the wrong way. If he wants -to put that machine together so that it will work well, he will look -into the matter carefully, examining each part, all the time keeping in -his mind a conception of the complete machine. He will probably find -that he has been trying to fit two unrelated parts together, or has -reversed their position, misunderstood or only partially understood -their uses, or has done something through carelessness that may easily -be corrected. Of course, if he is a stupid or foolish workman, and not -a skilled mechanic, he may persist in his wrong course and fail to get -the machine into working order. But that is not the fault of the maker, -nor does it prove that the machine would not do perfect work if it were -rightly understood and intelligently controlled. So it is with the -Cosmos, the orderly world, which will go right for us if we do our part -right. - -The first step towards knowing how to get anything is to have a clear -idea of what it is that we want; for development is not thrust upon us, -nor dropped upon us by our parents. It is desire that creates function; -the creature that wants to swim is the creature that learns to swim; -the bird that does not want to fly will lose the power; before we can -rise higher, we must look higher. - -“When the ideal once alights in our streets,” says Edward Carpenter, -“we may go home to supper in peace, the rest will be seen to.” But, -if we enjoy worry as the countryman’s wife “enjoys poor health,” we -shall continue to have it, for we always get what we most want, if we -set about it in the right way. And if we do not want worry, we need -not worry. If the trouble is unavoidable or unchangeable, it were wise -to use our powers to adjust ourselves to the inevitable. If it be a -curable trouble, the only thing is to discover or devise a cure. As -soon as we start to work we cease to worry, because worry and effective -activity cannot exist at the same time. Man, at least, is such a -creature that any real action looking towards a definite end brings him -pleasure; and, though the action may have been stimulated by pain, yet -the pleasure he finds in the action mitigates, if it does not destroy, -the pain. - -If the original cause for the worry lies in our own ignorance, -selfishness, or thoughtlessness, the anxiety may teach us to repair the -ill so that we may not have to get the same lesson again. But worrying -will teach us less than a cheerful acceptance of the facts—or than that -courage which says, - - “And still the menace of the years - Finds and shall find me unafraid”— - -and one of the best aids to cheerfulness is sound, refreshing sleep. If -we should put off all worrying until the morning, there would be very -little worrying done by the normal, healthy person, for, after a good -night’s sleep and in the clear light of day, things look much better -than they did in the darkness and solitude of the night, with mind and -body worn from the activities of the day. - -If we feel that our affairs are too important to be left to the care of -the Providence that keepeth Israel, and slumbers not nor sleeps, then -at least we may wait until morning to give our attention to them. It is -unfair to bring exhausted faculties to bear upon matters of so great -weight. If our troubles can be helped by worrying, we should worry when -we are in the best possible trim. To do less were to underestimate -their importance and to prove that, anyway, they are not worth losing -sleep over. - -But there is still another way of looking at wakefulness, when we -cannot trace the cause of it. It may be the time sent to us by the -Spirit for quiet thought. The ancients believed that God spoke in -visions of the night. We may not always be able to sleep, but we can -always lie in the arms of our Great Mother Nature. There is a real -philosophy as well as devotion in the old prayer we teach our children, -“Now I lay me down to sleep.” A still older form of the almost -instinctive recognition of the fact that sleeping is but intrusting -ourselves to the Universal love was, “He committed himself to God in -sleep.” Like sleep, a wakeful night may be a growing time. It affords -the quiet, the time, the seclusion to think over the meanings of -things, or even to seek the cause of the wakefulness itself. For that -is the first thing to do if we find ourselves wakeful; if the cause -be so obscure that we cannot find it, then the best thing to do is to -accept the fact. - -Either we do not need the sleep we are seeking,—the reclining position -being all the _rest_ the body needs,—or else we do need the wakefulness -to teach us something that we can learn or will learn in no other way. -It is a time when, free from the watchful eyes of those who love us, or -those who do not love us, we need not fear to look at ourselves, our -motives, our relations to our fellows. - -It may be only at such a time that we can feel the closeness of the -tie that binds all mankind, only in such a time that a life-giving -sense of oneness can renew life and joy. Some persons are so acutely -conscious of the surge around them during the day that it is difficult, -if not impossible, for them to get any large view of it. They are so -beset and bewildered by each little detail of life that they cannot -see any relation among things as a whole, cannot “see the wood for -the trees.” Or, it may be that a lack of poise, a false estimate of -the relations of things, makes them find “their own affairs” so -interesting or exhausting that the observing mind gets no large or deep -impressions to be added to the sum of the knowledge the inner self -possesses. - -For either of these classes the wakeful night may prove more restful -and helpful than hours of sleep. It may be made to bring a breadth of -view that will lift one out of the narrow limits in which daily life is -passed. It may do as much as this for any of us, and, if we reject the -receptive mood, and insist upon objecting to the wakefulness, we may -thereby deprive ourselves of some of the most illuminating experiences. - -Someone has said: “Sleep, like drink, may drown our sorrows, yet -it also drowns our joys. What could we not accomplish if we did not -require sleep?” It may be comforting to think of this when we are lying -awake, that at least we are wasting no time. The gift of wakefulness -is often as desirable as is the gift of sleep, and, if we welcome the -one as what must be—with as much cheerfulness as the other—each will -bring us equal blessings. It often happens that what we regard as evil -is but Life’s left hand outstretched with a gift whose use we did not -recognize when presented by her right hand. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE PURPOSE OF SLEEP - - Sleep is a life giver as well as a life saver. - - WILLARD MOYER. - - -But none of these things lessens the benefits of real sleep, nor are -they intended to show that sleep is unnecessary, for although it may be -true, as Dr. Charles Brodie Patterson says in “The New Heaven and the -New Earth,” that man will some day get along without sleep, no one is -yet able to do that. - -Although our troubles make us lose sleep, we could lose all or nearly -all our troubles if we got natural sleep. Forgetfulness of daily frets, -of the wear and tear of contact with the sharp edges of our own temper -and the temper of others—these are the things that sleep blots out. -“Go to sleep,” says Mother Nature, “and forget your troubles.” And -to blot them out even for a time means surcease of sorrow and worry -for that time at least, and a new way of looking at them when we have -awakened. That is what sleep is for. It is the use of it. - -Pat took Mike to church for the first time, and, when the ceremony was -over, he said, “Well, Mike, what do you think uv it?” “Think uv it, -Pat? The candles, the bowings, the incinse, and the garmints,—it do -bate the divil.” - -“Sure,” replied Pat, “thot’s the intintion.” And so it is the -intention of sleep to “beat the devil” of unrest and dissatisfaction. -Nothing makes us feel better than a good night’s sleep. It soothes the -aching muscles, quiets the jangling nerves, brushes away the cobwebs of -the mind, and leaves us rested and refreshed, strong to meet the events -of the new day. - -It is after a bad night that we rise oppressed with fear for what the -day may bring us; overwhelmed in advance with shadowings of evil. This, -in itself, makes us unequal to the demands of the day. If any seeming -strain is put upon us that day, we are apt to make errors in meeting -it; if we find anyone has failed to do just what seemed to us best, we -upbraid him roundly and unlovingly, making him and ourselves unhappy. - -At the close of such a spoiled day, when we review its happenings, we -say: “I knew this morning that this would be an unlucky day. I felt it -as soon as I got up.” But we may not realize that that very attitude -of fear and apprehension may have caused all that we call ill-luck. -Remember this, then, lest the one bad day should spoil another night. - -Often after a night of sound, wholesome, refreshing sleep we are -surprised to find that what looked like a mountain at midnight is now -scarcely a hillock. We find that we can see around it on all sides, -and the prospect of surmounting that difficulty fills us with peculiar -delight. We are no longer apprehensive of anything. The things we see -in our work in the world are no more terrible than what we see in that -unknown world which we enter nightly through the gate of sleep. We -long to pass that gate, yet we know nothing of where we go, how far we -travel, or by what means we come back. - -If we can trust Life for what the night brings, we can trust it further -and gladly accept what the day brings. We feel this, even if we are not -conscious of it, and after a good sleep (this is what sleep is for), we -accept it much as the child accepts his mother’s care. - -A little boy was riding in a trolley car with his parents and persisted -in standing up, to the terror of his mother, who begged him to sit down -lest he get hurt. - -Turning to his father he whispered, as he reluctantly took his seat, -“What a ’fraid-cat mother is.” “Oh, well!” replied his father, -“she is nervous, but you know she has to take care of her little boy.” -“Yes,” said the child, “that’s what she is for.” So that is what -sleep is for—to take care of us, but we cannot compel sleep; and the -advantage of recognizing the possible gifts of wakefulness is that we -thus get around to the frame of mind where we drop into natural sleep. -Impatience not only delays the coming of sleep, but it robs us of any -benefit we might receive from lying peacefully in the dark. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE SLEEP OF THE INVALID - - Sleep, O gentle Sleep, - Nature’s soft nurse— - - SHAKESPEARE. - - -We should not think that, because we are ill, it is natural that we -should not sleep. The invalid needs more and better sleep than the -robust person—and the invalid can have it. - -It is true that, as more and better sleep comes, the invalid will -cease to be an invalid—at least that is the beginning of the end of -invalidism. For Nature provides sleep as the “balm of hurt minds” —a -cure for body or mind that needs restoring. - -In the case of severe illness the physician in charge feels relieved -when he learns that his patient is sleeping well. The professional -idea of sleep is that nutrition goes on most perfectly during sleeping -hours; that is, that Nature repairs all the waste that results from the -use of brain and muscle during our waking hours. The more prolonged and -undisturbed the sleep is, the more opportunity Nature has to make good -the extra demands made upon the system by disease. It opens the way -for the “Vis Medicatrix Naturæ”—the healing power of Life. - -Take, for example, the fever patient. Anyone who has watched beside a -loved one slowly consuming, with the fever raging in his blood, will -remember the sigh of relief that has gone up from physician and nurse -when the patient falls into a natural sleep after the turn of things. -During dreadful nights and anxious days we wait breathlessly for the -“crisis”; we hang upon the physician’s word, scan his face for every -fleeting expression, because we may be deceived by the disease, but his -practiced eye should know. But we do not need his assurance when the -moaning and restlessness pass, when the stertorous breathing quiets, -when the skin becomes moist, and the gentle, regular breathing tells us -that natural sleep has come. If we can be spared, we go out under the -stars and, whether Christian or pagan, up from the depths of our souls -wells a prayer of thankfulness to “whatever gods there be” for the -incomparable blessing of sleep. We feel as if we could “go softly all -our days” before the powers who have decreed that sleep shall gently -steep the eyelids of the one we love. - -Nourishment, in the form of food, is desirable, but more important -still is the sleep when Nature busies herself building new tissue and -blood to make good the ravages of fever’s siege. We are careful to -keep even good news from the patient, if we have cause to fear that -it will prove too stimulating, and everything depressing or alarming -is absolutely withheld, because sleep is the paramount need of the -depleted body. - -We all recognize the value of sleep to the person just past the crisis -of a severe illness, and the next thing to learn is that to the person -invalided through some less active cause, it is as necessary, and that -it may be had. - -It may seem an extravagant statement to say that the invalid should -be able to summon sleep at will even better than an active, healthy -person. But we may see the truth of this statement if we accept Dr. -Edward Binns’ assurance that “in no sense can fatigue be said to be -the cause of sleep,” so that the usual claim that the sick do not get -an opportunity to weary themselves, and so cannot expect sound sleep, -cannot be accounted a reason for sleeplessness of the invalid. - -To be sure, lying abed is not always restful. A friend of mine was -kept in bed for some weeks by a broken ankle. It was necessary to -remain in the one position day and night, which so wore upon her -nervous organization that she grew restless and “lost” much sleep. In -this condition, she said the hardest thing to bear was the well-meant -congratulations of her friends that at least she was “getting a -much-needed rest.” But the real reason why an invalid should learn to -sleep at will is because sleep alone can do what Macbeth asks of the -physician: - - “Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, - Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, - Raze out the written troubles of the brain, - And with some sweet oblivious antidote - Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuff - Which weighs upon the heart?” - -Yes, sleep can do this; and illness has need of just such comfort. The -enforced idleness leads to much reflection and the nervous system is -then ill-adapted to endure emotional strain. If pain be added there is -still greater need for sleep. Nor is pain absolutely hostile to sleep: -the writer can often go to sleep while the dentist is drilling and -filling his teeth, and Dr. J. Howard Reed says that this is not very -uncommon. - -Pain is Nature’s strong protest against overstimulation or overexertion -and the exhaustion which it occasions is itself conducive to sleep. It -would be better for us to heed that protest and use our intelligence to -secure sound, refreshing sleep, that Nature might perfect her cures. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE SLEEPLESSNESS OF PAIN - - He kisses brows that ache from earthly care; - He soothes to peace the indignant souls of slaves. - - EDGAR FAWCETT. - - -Sometimes we are kept awake by pain. Some persons suffer pain that has -no remission, except the temporary deadness that comes from nervous -exhaustion—and sleep. - -But sometimes the hardest torture is the thought that the pain is -unnecessary or useless. I went once to visit a friend, whom I found -suffering from the worst abscesses on the back of the neck that I ever -saw, so frightful that the sight of them made me, who am a strong man, -feel faint. I asked sympathetically what was the matter. “Oh,” he -said, “I’m getting some experience.” That consciousness that such pain -was useful helped to make the agony less unendurable. In fact, though -he did not see it all then, he was getting just what he and those about -him needed. He was a vigorous man, who took to rural work in a place -where the food was excellent; he was naturally gluttonous and overate, -hence the boils. This he learned; and also how to bear pain. - -There are ways of bearing pain more easily. We must consider the pain -philosophically, and treat it from all three sides—the bodily, the -intellectual, and the spiritual. - -However advanced we may be, it is foolish to deny that, in common with -the rest of mankind, we are more or less in what Paul called the bonds -of the flesh. To try to treat an aching tooth without physical means -is like trying to grow a new leg instead of getting an artificial one. -There was a stage in man’s Pre-Adamite progress from the amœba when, -like the crab, he could grow new legs. Possibly, by discarding all -other faculties, men might again be able to grow new legs: but it would -not pay. - -A man who makes hammers may at one time have made his own files, had a -shop for that. But, as trades became specialized, he found it better -and cheaper to buy his files. Perhaps the supply is suddenly cut off. -Now he could reassemble from the scrap-heap the file machinery and make -files again, but it would be at the cost of putting so much time and -energy into that branch as to paralyze the hammer factory. - -So, Nature found that men rarely lost their legs and that it was more -economical to divert the organization and the energy that reproduced -legs into the brain, which enables men to supply themselves and their -fellows, when occasion arises, with artificial legs. Accordingly we -have lost much of the power of automatic self-healing and have gained -much power of deliberate self-healing. - -While distrusting crutches and drugs, therefore, because we see the -immediate effect of them, but cannot know the remote effects of them, -we cannot refuse a hot-water bottle or an anæsthetic when the pain, -the symptom of the disorder, becomes dangerous in itself. The fever -of typhoid represents a battle within which must be fought out to a -conclusion—successful or not. But, when the patient is in danger of -dying from the high temperature, it is no inconsistency for a mental or -spiritual healer to cool the room or sponge the patient with alcohol. - -Before we resort to the dentist for the aching tooth, we may reduce the -inflammation by abstaining from food and starving the blood corpuscles, -which hasten to the diseased part, until, perhaps, they feed upon -the weaker and obnoxious tissues. This abstinence will go far toward -removing the restlessness that is so torturing an accompaniment of the -pain. These are the physical remedies. - -The mental ones consist mainly in trying to isolate the aching member, -to realize that it is the tooth, not you, that aches, and to watch it -as if it were a separate person. A little boy was asked how he felt -after a feast of green apples. “I have a pain in the middle of my -stomach,” he said, “but the rest of me feels fine.” A further mental -remedy is to send to that separated part, the nerve, the assurance -that you have already its message, which is that there is inflammation -in the tooth and that you will attend to it as speedily as possible. -The nerve gets tired, as it were, of repeating a message that gets no -attention just as it gets tired of reporting the ticking of a clock so -that we become unconscious of it; although, if we suspected that it was -the knocking of a burglar’s tool, we should be kept awake by it night -after night. - -And we must not complain. The Japanese think it rude to complain. If -you are miserable, why make others miserable, too? Better not even let -it be known, if you can help it without creating unpleasantness, that -you suffer. To solicit sympathy is weakening and the constant inquiry, -“How are you now?” concentrates your attention on yourself and on your -feelings. If we complained to everyone of the ticking clock, we would -never forget it; it would become less and less endurable. - -The spiritual treatment is harder to make clear. It is the -unwillingness to have pain that makes it hard to bear. To illustrate -again from the dentist, because that experience is still common -to nearly everyone: We go to the operating chair, not gladly, but -willingly, believing that it is wise and necessary and we bear -the pain without complaining, knowing that it is the common lot of -man. But suppose you were seized, strapped into the chair, and then -your teeth were drilled and sawed to no good purpose, how much more -frightful would be the pain. That would be because you believed it to -be unnecessary and useless. It would be quite different if you trusted -the operator. We must realize, then, that, if there is a controlling -and benevolent Power in the Universe, which we all, rightly or wrongly, -believe in our hearts, we never can have any pain that is useless or -needless to ourselves, or to others, our other selves. - -We may not see it at the time, but, if we look for it, we usually shall -see it. While writing this the author was attacked with a violent -toothache: he had exercised ordinary prudence in attending to his -teeth, so that it did not seem as if the pain were needed to teach -care. But when the toothache came he remembered that, seldom having -pain himself, that subject had been overlooked among the many chapters -of the book. That was a reason; but, notwithstanding the efforts of an -excellent dentist, the torture continued. Why? - -Why, that he might try these things; and he did practice them so as to -lose no sleep. In addition he concluded that it was needful just then -that he should feel just such pain in order to revive his sympathy and -patience with those whose harassed nerves account for so much of their -unreasonableness. - -With that sense, that one is in a manner suffering for men, comes -something of the exaltation of the martyr, even with prosaic toothache. -With that certainly disappears all impatience with the pain. - -Perhaps he will be accounted superstitious in adding that, when these -lessons were learned, the dentist found the trouble and the pain melted -away. But he has had exactly similar experiences before: a new lesson -or a renewal of it was needed. When the pain was no longer necessary it -ceased. Why should it continue? - - -SWEET AND LOW - - Sweet and low, sweet and low, - Wind of the western sea; - Low, low, breathe and blow, - Wind of the western sea! - Over the rolling waters go, - Come from the dying moon, and blow, - Blow him again to me; - While my little one, - While my pretty one, - Sleeps. - - Sleep and rest, sleep and rest; - Father will come to thee soon. - Rest, rest on Mother’s breast; - Father will come to thee soon. - Father will come to his babe in the nest,— - Silver sails all out of the west - Under the silver moon! - Sleep, my little one; - Sleep my pretty one, - Sleep. - - TENNYSON. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -OPIATES - - -One of the most common signs of something at fault either with the body -or the mind is headache. Now headache, like wakefulness or nervousness, -so often associated with headache, is an effect of some error, not a -cause of it, and the wise sufferer will seek the cause even before he -treats the effect. - -We call ourselves the most enlightened nation of the earth to-day, and -it is true that a little knowledge has been more generally diffused -among our people than among other peoples of the world. But we should -not forget that “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” largely -because a little knowledge frequently proves to be no real knowledge at -all. For example, the “little knowledge” generally possessed in regard -to opiates. - -Coal-tar was once a waste product, but toward the end of the last -century a German chemist discovered that from it could be derived a -drug, acetanilid, which would greatly lower temperature in fever. -This discovery was hailed as a boon to humanity, and many other -by-products of coal-tar were soon placed on the market, and regarded as -of equal value with acetanilid. Physicians used them for a time without -questioning, and the people took to them gladly. Wherever there was a -persistent headache, some one of the coal-tar products was used, and -“headache powders” multiplied. - -But a little further knowledge led physicians to question the -expediency of using acetanilid, phenacetin, antipyrin, or any of the -coal-tar preparations in other than exceptional cases. Heart-failure -and other dangerous results so frequently followed their use that -the wisdom of using them at all became doubtful. As our knowledge -increases, we are likely to find both the wisdom and necessity entirely -disappearing. - -In the meantime, those who have heard that temporary relief from pain -may be had by using these drugs will go on using them, often in patent -medicines, ignorant of what these nostrums contain, and the number of -deaths resulting from their use continues to increase. The only way to -protect such people from the result of their little knowledge, which -is really ignorance, is by making it illegal to sell these drugs, -except by prescription from a physician, who, in turn, should be held -responsible for results. - -This is, of course, an interference with the individual’s right to do -as seemeth best to him, and to get his experience in his own way. -Herbert Spencer says, “The ultimate result of shielding men from -the effects of folly is to fill the world with fools.” But it is the -same sort of interference that makes us hold a man by main force from -throwing himself on the track before an approaching train, and not the -sort that would forcibly put an overcoat on him when he did not care to -wear it. One may be no more justifiable than the other, but it seems -more excusable. - -All sleeping doses are to be viewed with distrust; most of them contain -opium or morphine, some still more deadly drugs: Nature “sets up a -tolerance” for them so that, to obtain the effect, the dose must be -increased, until, if the sufferer does not retreat in time, an almost -incurable drug habit is formed, often more terrible than the liquor -habit, which it sometimes supplants. Nor do they bring true sleep. - -R. Clarke Newton, in his treatise on “Opium and Alcohol,” says -“Sleeplessness means not merely unrest, but starvation of the cerebrum. -The only cause for regret in these cases is that the blunder should -ever be committed of supposing that a stupefying drug which throws the -brain into a condition that mimics and burlesques sleep can do good. -It is deceptive to give narcotics in a case of this type. The stupor -simply masks the danger. Better far let the sleepless patient exhaust -himself than stupefy him. Chloral, bromides, and the rest of the poisons -that produce a semblance of sleep are so many snares in such cases. -Sleeplessness is a malady of the most formidable character, but it is -not to be treated by intoxicating the organ upon which the stress of -the trouble falls.” The late Dr. Alonzo Clark, who for years stood at -the head of his profession as a consulting physician in New York City, -is quoted as saying, “All curative agents, so called, are poisons, -and, as a consequence, every dose diminishes the patient’s vitality.” I -doubt whether this view of drugs would be seriously contested by any of -his professional brethren of good standing. - -The venerable Professor Joseph M. Smith, M.D., said: “All medicines -which enter the circulation poison the blood in the same manner as do -the poisons that produce the disease. Drugs do not cure disease.” John -Bigelow, in the “Mystery of Sleep” (p. 190), adds: “With drug-poisons -should be classed nearly, if not quite, all fermented drinks—the most -costly part of some people’s diet who indulge in them at all—coffee, -tea, tobacco, spices, and most of the constantly multiplying tonics -and condiments of the table. All of them have a tendency, directly or -indirectly, to discourage or impair sleep, and, as such, are ‘hostes -humani generis’ (enemies of the human race). Their interference with -sleep, though perhaps the most serious, is very far from being their -only pathogenetic influence.” - -Mr. Bigelow then cites from Jahr’s “Manual of Medicine” the fearful -disturbances of sleep caused by fifteen drugs, all taken as samples -from the list in their order under the single letter “A.” Contrary -to the general belief, sleeplessness is more often a consequence of -insanity than a cause of it. (See Appendix A.) - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -DEVICES FOR GOING TO SLEEP - - Southey, in “The Doctor,” thus summarizes some of the chief devices - to attain sleep by monotony: “I listened to the river and to the - ticking of my watch; I thought of all sleepy sounds and of all - soporific things—the flow of water, the humming of bees, the motion - of a boat, the waving of a field of corn, the nodding of a mandarin’s - head on the chimney-piece, a horse in a mill, the opera, Mr. Humdrum’s - conversations, Mr. Proser’s poems, Mr. Laxative’s speeches, Mr. - Lengthy’s sermons. I tried the device of my own childhood, and fancied - that the bed rushed with me round and round. At length Morpheus - reminded me of Dr. Torpedo’s Divinity Lectures, where the voice, - the manner, the matter, even the very atmosphere and the streaming - candle-light, were all alike soporific; when he who, by strong effort, - lifted up his head and forced open the reluctant eyes, never failed - to see all around him asleep. Lettuces, cowslip wine, poppy syrup, - mandragora, hop pillows, spider’s web pills, and the whole tribe of - narcotics would have failed—but this was irresistible; and thus twenty - years after date, I found benefit from having attended the course.” - - -Frequent impressions on the mind, or calls on the attention, tend to -make us sleepy; thus looking at pictures, the attempt to study, driving -in a carriage. In extreme cases this is very marked. A boy named Caspar -Hauser was shut up alone in a gloomy little room until he was about -eighteen years old; then he was brought to Nürnberg and abandoned in -the street; this was in 1828. He was to all intents a baby and could -not walk, nor speak, nor see clearly, as he had never known any of the -common objects of life—men or animals or plants, or the moon or sun or -even the sky. - -He would go to sleep instantly on being taken outside the house, -because the number of new sensations instantly tired his consciousness. - -For the same reason that the consciousness is quickly exhausted, many -old or delicate persons readily fall asleep. Marie de Manacéïne says -that Moivre, the French mathematician, used to sleep twenty hours a -day during his old age, leaving only four for science and the other -occupations of life. - -Monotony naturally fatigues consciousness and is often successfully -used to produce sleep; the regular dropping of water, the sound of a -brook will put those to sleep whom it does not make nervous. Lullabies -and slumber songs and dull lectures all come under the same head of -devices to tire the consciousness. - -Narcotic drugs do not weary consciousness; they simply destroy it. They -stupefy us instead of inducing sleep. Those who would wisely learn -about this by experiments upon others rather than upon themselves, will -find it all in the article by Ringer and Sainsbury on “Sedatives” in -Tuke’s “Dictionary of Psychological Medicine.” It is enough for us -to be assured that narcotic sleep is less like real sleep than the -hibernation of the animal is like repose. (But see “Remedies” in -Appendix A.) - -Henry Ward Beecher used to get up when he was sleepless and take a -cold bath, a good device for a full-blooded, vigorous person: but a -weak person would not “react” and get warm again. For such an one it -would be better to sponge off and restore the circulation by rubbing. -Some physicians have prescribed, with good success, blood-warm baths, -beginning at a temperature of about 98 and heated up to 110 or 115 -Fahrenheit. When the moisture has been absorbed by wrapping one’s self -in a blanket, throw it off and get quickly into a warm bed. Mark Twain -used to get to sleep by lying down on the bathroom floor after the bath. - -Some, when other means fail, find it effective to place a cold-water -bag at the back of the neck, or to rub the feet with a rough towel: -with others, a hot-water bottle at the back of the neck works better. -A warm footbath helps some persons. At the sanitariums they sponge -with warm water, rub with wet salt, gently sponge it off, and dry the -body—all of which helps the blood to the surface. It is always well -to see that the bowels are emptied. Only trial and judgment will show -whether any of these will effect a cure: they all aim at the same mark, -to abstract the blood from the brain. - -That drinking milk produces sleep in some persons may probably be due -to the lactic acid in the milk, which is a soporific like morphine. -Perhaps its use is to help young animals to the long sleeps they need. - -Willard Moyer, in an entertaining essay, tells us that it is often -advisable for the stomach to have sufficient work for the blood to do -so as to call it from the brain. This does not mean that a meal that -will overload the stomach is a cure for insomnia, but that something -light, such as a cup of warm milk and a cracker, may often “send one -comfortably to sleep like a drowsy kitten or a well-fed baby.” A. -Fleming, following Durham, the author of the “Psychology of Sleep,” -showed that to deprive the brain of blood by pressing the carotid -arteries for thirty seconds brought immediate and deep sleep, but it -only continued while all pulsation of these arteries is stopped.[7] - -[7] It is interesting also to note that a similar pressure on the -jugular veins produces loss of consciousness, but from just the -opposite cause, that is, from congestion of blood in the brain. This -state of unconsciousness resembles coma just as the other resembles -sleep. - - E. M. W. - - -It has been found by cruel experiments on young puppies that sleep is -more necessary to them than food, as they die after being kept awake -four or five days, but may live ten or fifteen days without food. They -easily go to sleep when their heads are level with their bodies, and -they will not go to sleep with their heads lower than their bodies: of -course, the raised head drains some blood out of the brain. - -This is the reason that heat or extreme cold, both of which bring the -blood to the surface and drain it away from the brain, will often -produce sleep. That is why the cowboy likes to sleep with his feet to -the fire. On the other hand, the demand on the heart of cold hands -or feet for more blood to keep them warm may make the heart pump so -strongly that it sends more blood to the brain and keeps one awake. -So also joy, anger, or anxiety cause a flow of blood to the brain and -hinder sleep. - -Becker and Schuller have treated insomnia by wrapping the entire body -in wet sheets and also by applying cold compresses to the head. This -last device is used by students, with doubtful success, “to keep the -brain cool”; it is sometimes affected because it looks like working -hard. Sometimes an ice cap, a double rubber cap filled with cold water, -will bring sleep. - -The Russian nobles used to make servants scratch their heels for a long -time; our ladies have their hair brushed; and A. H. Savage-Landor says -that Corean mothers put their babies to sleep by scratching them gently -on the stomach. I have tried this rubbing, rather than scratching, with -great success. Spanish women rub the children’s upper spine to put them -to sleep. Light exercise before lying down is often a good expedient. - -Sometimes a pillow of heated hops or of balsam pine needles will induce -sleep. To change the hour of going to bed occasionally, yielding to -apparently untimely drowsiness, often helps, as it accustoms us to gain -sleep at irregular times. - -To “relax,” to let the muscles become perfectly loose, is an art, -though it should be natural to one going to sleep. Mrs. Richard Hovey -recommends shaking the fingers, letting them hang loose like a bunch -of strings of beads, and extending the movement to the wrist, arms, -feet, and legs. This is the best form of calisthenic exercise for -sleeplessness. It aids us in getting limp so as to lie at ease. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -MORE DEVICES FOR GOING TO SLEEP - - Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing, - Beloved from pole to pole. - - COLERIDGE. - - -If life be a succession of ideas, says Dr. Binns, then sleep is the -interval; “consequently, we may say that sleep is the art of escaping -reflection.” If one could follow the Chinese advice, divest the -mind of all unpleasant images, “the secret of sleep at will,” Dr. -Binns thinks, “would be in the possession of all men.” This accords -in its essence with the very modern theory of Dr. Henry Hubbard -Foster of Cornell University, that sleep results from the absence of -stimulations. It is conceivable that things that stimulate, or rouse -us, may come from inside as well as from outside. A sudden thought, a -new, delightful, or horrible mental picture will arouse us and send -sleep flying as effectually as a sudden noise or an exciting commotion -from without. - -We might amend the Chinese advice thus: put out of the mind all images, -pleasant or unpleasant, or, as Dr. Gardner puts it, “bring the mind -to a single sensation.” It has long been known that monotony will -induce sleep. Not merely the monotony of silence, but sometimes even -the monotony of great noise, such as the ceaseless firing of heavy guns -which have lulled the wearied soldiers into rest. There is a sleepy -sound in “The distant boom of a random gun which the foe was sullenly -firing.” It is the sudden, irregular noise which disturbs. If anyone -listens for several hours to soft, flowing music, he will have great -difficulty in keeping awake, no matter how great a lover of music he -may be, particularly if he has to sit in the same position all the -time. Let a musical number with strongly marked staccato movement be -introduced, let the drum throb loud at intervals, the horns blare, then -the sleeper will awake and find renewed enjoyment, not because he loves -noise, but because the monotony has been broken. The mind has responded -to the new stimulus. - -Professor Boris Sidis, of the Harvard Physiological Laboratory, says -that “the fundamental conditions of sleep are monotony and limitation -of voluntary movements. Sleep,” adds Sidis, is not so much due to -cutting off impressions through the senses, be they intense or faint, -as to the monotony of the “impressions that reduced the organism to -the passive state which we experience in sleep.” In other words, -monotony has such a benumbing, deadening effect upon the mind that -sleep naturally ensues. - -Although Binns did not know Foster’s and Sidis’ modern views, yet -accepting Gardner’s theory of “bringing the mind to a single -sensation,” he worked out a plan for inducing sleep which he said -nearly always succeeded. During his long practice he had known of only -two instances where it failed when faithfully and intelligently tried. - -The method is simple, yet it includes putting out of the mind all -images pleasant or unpleasant, and restricting voluntary movements. It -is this: “Turn on the right side, place the head comfortably on the -pillow, let the head fall naturally, using the pillow only to support -the neck, slightly close the lips,—though this is not absolutely -essential,—take full inspiration through the nostrils, drawing in as -much air as possible, then leave the lungs to their own action, neither -hastening nor checking exhalation. Think of the breath as passing from -the nostrils in one continuous stream, and, the very instant the person -so conceives, consciousness and memory depart, the muscles relax, the -breath comes regularly, he no longer wakes but sleeps. It is all the -effort of but a moment.” - -Another method in common use is counting up to a hundred on an -imaginary string of beads. Often one will have lost consciousness -before the hundredth bead is reached, but sometimes they have to be -counted over and over, and sometimes the plan fails altogether. The -immediate reason for this is undoubtedly that we have not brought -the mind to a single sensation, nor succeeded in cutting off the -impressions that come through the senses. - -Everybody has at some time used some such device for inducing sleep -to visit him. The practice of imagining sheep jumping over a gate and -counting them as they go is but another way of bringing the mind to a -single sensation, of deliberately securing monotony and shutting out -all stimuli, as scientific men call the various causes that arouse -sensation in us. Such simple devices are never harmful, and are so -frequently followed by sleep that they continue from generation to -generation. - -If the impressions received through the channels of sense cannot or -will not be shut off, it is useless to continue counting beads or -sheep, or seeing a stream of breath. It becomes necessary to discover -what it is that is back of the stimulation—what impression is so vivid -and so insistent that it will not down. As Frederick Palmer says in his -delightful book, “The Vagabond,” we should “take a good look at a -thing before we run away from it.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -STILL FURTHER DEVICES - - The sleep of a laboring man is sweet. - - ECCLESIASTES. - - -“The Witchery of Sleep” records for us some interesting mechanical -devices for inducing sleep, more common in Europe than in this country. -Their inventors hope to perfect them so that they may take the place -of drugs and “sleeping potions.” This is an end devoutly to be wished -by all who know the steady increase of the “drug habit.” Among these -sleep-inducing instruments the newest is the “vibrating coronet.” This -coronet has three metal bands which encircle the head and two strips -extending to the eyelids. By means of a spring these strips vibrate -the eyelid gently and induce drowsiness. All the mechanical devices -are constructed on the plan of inducing eye-weariness, whether by -vibration or by fixity. Either effect is in accordance with the modern -theories of sleep. Sleep may be induced by monotony also of sounds; by -concentration either of the attention or the hearing on one point, or -by more numerous impressions than the eye can comfortably receive; -thus, when riding in a train, the succession of views will often induce -sleepiness. - -The “Alouette,” a collection of little mirrors attached to the ebony -panels of a box, is so placed that a ray of light falls on the mirrors -in such a way as to fatigue the eye of the beholder. Both this and the -“Fascinator,” a highly polished nickel ball attached to a flexible -wire depending from a metal band similar to the “Coronet,” work on -the plan of concentrating the vision. In a similar way a light-house -or a miniature flashlight, with its appearing and disappearing light, -induces drowsiness, possibly hypnotic, through incessant change. It is -needless to say that these devices might be injurious to the sight and -certainly would not work where the cause of sleeplessness is eyestrain. -That is a case for the oculist. - -But when it is impossible to obtain mechanical devices, there are many -simple schemes of inducing sleep. Any light work, mental or physical, -is helpful. To start writing letters, particularly if one is not fond -of letter-writing, will sometimes induce sleepiness very quickly. -Sorting and arranging old papers will have the same effect, unless one -is of a nature to find such an occupation exciting. - -Of course, a drawback in any of these light occupations is that by the -time one has undressed drowsiness may have fled. That possibility -makes it desirable that all preparations for bed shall first be made -and a warm robe with comfortable bedroom shoes shall constitute the -only extra clothing. Warmth of body, especially of the feet, is -essential to sleep. Sometimes so simple a thing as a hot-water bottle -at the feet, or even woolen bed-socks, will make all the difference -between wakefulness and refreshing slumber. - -Then there is the matter of deep breathing, which seems especially -adapted to feeble or run-down physiques. That is a large subject more -familiar to the people of the Orient than to us. Some Orientals are -able to put themselves into trance-like sleep by their knowledge of -deep breathing. Numerous books have been written treating of this -subject, among the best of which are “The Science of Breath,” by -Ramacharaka, and “The Law of Rhythmical Breath,” by Ella A. Fletcher, -though the “Rhythmical Breath” seems fanciful to Western readers. - -Sleeplessness is sometimes due to lack of physical exercise, and, when -that is so, no device is so effective as work—real physical effort. A -great many persons take calisthenic exercises and go in for physical -culture to develop muscles and also to regulate circulation so that -sleep will come more readily. These are good makeshifts for persons -who have no opportunity to work, but, where circumstances make actual -labor possible, no substitute can satisfactorily take its place. -Gardening, shoveling snow, sawing or chopping wood, all give a variety -of motion and a zest of exertion superior to any gymnastics. Even a -small amount of some such labor daily will often work a complete cure -for insomnia. - -Everybody knows of some plan or device for inducing sleep, and all of -them are more or less successful—sometimes. Indeed, this is so true -that it leads to the belief that, after all, the expectation of sleep -helps to bring it, and here suggestion and auto-suggestion come in. - -Of late, a number of persons have tried the starvation cure—fasting for -several days. This is frequently successful with robust, hearty people, -who may unconsciously be eating too much or eating too stimulating -food. Many who feel unequal to a complete fast might cut down the -amount of food as much as one-half, with happy results. A vegetarian -diet undoubtedly helps, too, although among the lower animals -carnivora sleep more than herbivora. The success of vegetarianism, -both in insomnia and other diseases, may well be due to the diminished -temptation to overeat and the less concentrated diet. - -In any event, it is well for the sufferer from sleeplessness to study -his own case and experiment with any or all the known devices to see -whether, by this means or that, he can lure sleep to his pillow again. - -And, speaking of pillows, it is well to remember that one pillow is -better than two, and that the one should not be too high, too hard, too -soft, or too warm, and that it should be thoroughly aired every day. -It should be odorless and cool and have the cover changed frequently. -Clean bed linen is in itself an effective device for inducing sleep, -just as perfect ventilation adds an hundredfold to the refreshment we -get from our slumbers. - -The best way to learn to sleep is to practice putting others to sleep. -Thy gifts will be unto thyself when thy benefits are to another. - -We never know anything thoroughly till we try to teach it. All these -plans and devices may be suggested one by one to any sleepless person. -Select what you think most suitable and most likely to be accepted, and -let the suggestion be that this is a good plan or something just called -to your attention that seems sensible. If you do not succeed in one or -two, it is difficult to secure trial of more at that time. - -Every temperament is different and may respond to different methods: -for instance, a ticking clock or dropping water, which make some -persons drowsy, will make others inexpressibly nervous. - -The trained nurse will tell you that, when you are trying to get the -patient to sleep, whispering must not be allowed: the sibilant sound -is irritating and the patient unconsciously strains to catch what is -said. Speak in a quiet, even, ordinary tone. Do not fuss, putting the -shade a little higher and lower, stealing across the room, and so on. -If anything is to be done, to walk quietly and naturally will disturb -the sleeper much less than tiptoeing about. - -That mysterious thing that we call “personality” has much to do with -the power to bring sleep to others. Some persons can put almost anyone -to sleep by quietly holding the hand, but nearly everyone has some of -this power. Some persons, especially children, are readily got to sleep -by lying down beside them. - -Reading aloud slowly and in a uniform voice will bring sleep to most -persons. When drowsiness comes, the voice may be lowered a little and -continued until slumber closes the eyes. (Concerning the varieties and -causes of Insomnia, see also Appendix A.) - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -HYPNOTIC SLEEP - - What would we give to our beloved? - The hero’s heart to be unmoved,— - The poet’s star-tuned harp to sweep; - The patriot’s voice to teach and rouse,— - The monarch’s crown to light the brows? - “He giveth His belovèd sleep.” - ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. - - -The nature of hypnotic sleep has not yet been fully determined, which -is not wonderful when we remember our ignorance of natural sleep. We -may call the active hypnotic state a condition of excessive attention -to the main idea presented and complete oblivion to other ideas. But -this state is preceded by a passive condition resembling sleep. The -use and value of hypnotic sleep is now occupying the attention of -scientific men and it bids fair to be an important curative agent. -Where once the patient suffering from insomnia was treated by drugs, -he is now more successfully treated through suggestion. The change -is a most desirable one and in line with that newer thought which -recognizes the power of regeneration within the soul of the individual. -For, the main things in the development of hypnosis and suggestion as -curative agents is the recognition that an appeal can be made to the -subconscious mind, which, as Dr. Worcester says, “is more sensitive -to good and evil than our conscious mind.” To appeal to our latent -powers to overcome our own weaknesses or limitations is greater and -better than to combat these weaknesses through drugs. Many physicians -who formerly employed hypnosis have adopted a substitute for it, the -so-called hypnoidal state, mere passivity with closed eyes. Hypnotizing -is in many cases needless and dangerous. - -Insomnia, like any other trouble not due to the breakdown of a physical -organ, is more a moral than a material lapse, and can best be cured -by moral means: that is, by the aid of the will and its associated -faculties. Sleeplessness, nervousness, excitability, and irritability -have their rise in mental and emotional states more often than in -physical states, and, under such conditions, treatment by drugs is of -little real use. In the disease hysteria, mental trouble may masquerade -as physical defect, for instance paralysis or even blindness, while -the physical parts concerned are in no wise impaired. The dependence -placed upon merely extraneous things does not assist in the development -of our own inner powers. Even when drugs seem to relieve the outward -symptoms, they fail to strengthen the moral nature, so greatly in need -of strength. The man of drugs only is at a disadvantage as compared -with the suggestionist in treating such disorders. Dr. J. D. Quackenbos -says, “The suggestionist invokes the better subliminal self—invests -it with control, and seldom fails to effect the desired purpose.” He -further maintains, what all investigators are now coming to admit, -that, when the patient wakes from hypnotic sleep, during which helpful, -curative suggestions have been made to him, he is “constrained to -obey the impulses of his own superior self.” The power of suggestion, -whether during waking or sleeping hours, is only beginning to be -recognized, although its use in one form or another is centuries old. -The thoughtless, as well as the thoughtful, use it more or less every -hour of the day, while all of us may know that we are occasionally the -victims of auto-suggestion when we suffer from functional ailments. - -Auto-suggestion is merely the suggestion of the self to the self, and -from ill-advised suggestions spring nearly all the little impediments -to sleep and health. Such a suggestion to ourselves as that we need -certain favorable conditions for sleeping will keep us awake when those -conditions are not possible. We say, “I cannot sleep with a clock -ticking in the room with me,” and so we lie awake and suffer nervous -tortures if we hear a clock tick. Or we say of something our friends -do, or of some natural habit they have, “That makes me so nervous I -almost fly out of my skin” thus we inflict upon ourselves suffering -that we need not endure. - -The strong soul will call his “superior self” to his aid to conquer -this tendency. He will suggest to himself that he is able to sleep -without regard to clocks or other disturbance; that the peculiarities -of other people have no power to irritate, annoy, or otherwise upset -his nervous system; that even in the midst of alarums he may have -peace, if he so wills, and can sleep under ordinary conditions without -fear or annoyance. - -But, to be able to do this, one must have faith in himself, in -his purpose, in his own desire to overcome his fears, for, as Dr. -Worcester remarks, “the value of suggestion lies in its character -and in the character of the man who makes it.” If we say these things -to ourselves, feeling all the time that it is useless, we are -not likely to impress the subconscious mind or rouse it to activity. -Self-deception is not often beneficial in its effects. No more shall we -make headway if we merely repeat such suggestions in parrot-fashion. -You remember the story of the old woman who heard that faith would -remove mountains: so she determined to try it on the hill in front of -her bedroom window. All night she repeated to herself that the mountain -would be removed. In the morning she awoke to see the hill still in -front of her. “There,” she said, “I knew it would be.” Anyhow, the -faith that removes most mountains is the faith that gets a shovel. It -is essential that we concentrate our minds upon the matter in hand, -excluding from our thoughts anything that might distract us and that -we fix our attention upon removing the fault. It is for this reason -that the hypnoidal state, or the wakeful night or the moment when one -is nearly dropping to sleep is the best time either for suggestion -to a patient or for one to indulge in helpful auto-suggestion. As -objective consciousness fades, it is easier to impress the subliminal -self-consciousness and invoke its aid. - -Those who do not know themselves well enough to be able to respond -to their own suggestion, may be helped by another in whom they have -faith. If they submit themselves willingly to suggestion, they may find -themselves so strengthened that they will shortly be able to control -themselves by auto-suggestion. Like almost all upward tendencies, this -power is a matter of development. - -As we come to understand hypnotism better, we learn that we need not -fear ill results from thus yielding ourselves for a good purpose to -another,[8] for one’s subconscious self is always on watch and will -not be compelled to do that which is contrary to one’s own nature or -habit of thought. Hypnotic sleep differs from natural sleep in that -the hypnotized person usually preserves a degree of intelligence and -invariably a moral sense which are not conspicuous in normal sleep and -dreaming. Scientific investigators are quite well agreed on this point, -and Dr. Worcester’s experience has convinced him of its truth. - -[8] There are grave dangers attendant on hypnotism for entertainment. -Prof. C. H. Judd of the University of Chicago says: “There is -no justification whatever for the use of hypnosis as a means of -amusement.” See Judd: Psychology. - -So, if all other means of securing sleep should fail, we may have -recourse to this newest method of curing nervous and other functional -disorders. It is merely one way of getting into closer touch with the -Infinite and Universal and coming into line with life’s underlying laws. - -The use of auto-suggestion is not limited to inducing sleep: it may rid -us of evil habits, disturbing thoughts, and all hatred, malice, and -uncharitableness—which in their turn interfere with sleep. - - -THE LAND OF NOD - - From breakfast on through all the day - At home among my friends I stay; - But every night I go abroad - Afar into the land of Nod. - - All by myself I have to go, - With none to tell me what to do— - All alone beside the streams - And up the mountain-sides of dreams. - - The strangest things are there for me, - Both things to eat and things to see, - And many frightening sights abroad - Till morning in the land of Nod. - - Try as I like to find the way, - I never can get back by day, - Nor can remember plain and clear - The curious music that I hear. - - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -“PERCHANCE TO DREAM” - -“We are such stuff as dreams are made on,” as Shakespeare says, -and yet no one even to this day knows what that “stuff” may be. -We separate man’s life into intellect, feeling, will; or, like the -Hindoos, into seven phases; we subdivide these, recognizing special -powers and functions belonging to each; we dissect man’s frame; we -dissolve his body into its component parts, and yet, when all is done, -we know as little about _life_, the essence of man, as our father Adam -knew. As Omar says, we hear “much talk about it and about” and yet we -get nowhere. It is much the same with dreams. We need, therefore, only -summarize and review the talk. - -Dreams occupied their most important place in the thought of man at its -beginning. His action has frequently been directed by a dream and the -fate of nations has hinged upon its interpretation. Even in the present -day of matter-of-fact science, at some time in his life following the -racial bent, almost every human being has paid some attention to his -dreams. The superstitious—which includes the most of us—still put -faith in their dreams, though they know not whence they come, nor their -relation to the most mutable of physical conditions. And this though -ages ago Sirach uttered this warning, “Dreams deceive many and fail -those who build upon them.” Scientific investigation has made known -many of the causes of dreams and shown us what slight incidents may -determine their direction. For instance, dreams involving hearing often -take their rise in noises made by the processes going on in the body. -What we eat and the state of our digestion greatly affect the character -of our dreams. - -This has long been recognized by those who try to decipher special -significance in dreams. Twenty-five centuries ago Pythagoras believed -that the gas-generating beans destroyed the chance of having -enlightening or important dreams, and so forbade their use. In similar -fashion interpreters of dreams were warned by Artemidorus to inquire -first whether the dreamer had eaten heartily or lightly before falling -asleep; while Philostratus maintained that skillful interpreters always -refused to expound dreams following the use of wine. - -Thus we see that even in ancient times the relation between eating and -sleeping was recognized. In more modern days it is recorded that poets -and writers had visions from eating raw flesh, while Mrs. Radcliffe, -author of “The Mysteries of Udolpho,” is said to have deliberately -induced horrid dream phantoms by supping late on indigestible food as -a means of getting “printer’s copy.” De Quincey’s “Confessions” is a -monument to the beauty and the horror of the dreams from drugs. There -is also reason to think that the terrors of delirium tremens are true -dreams. John B. Gough described from fearful experience the agony of -seeing and feeling that which is dreadful, mainly because the sufferer -knows that it, nevertheless, does not exist and could not exist. This -can be explained, in our present state of knowledge, only by the -supposition that the subconscious mind, uncorrected and unrestrained by -the senses, alone is awake. Boris Sidis shows that we have no waking -remembrance of many of our dreams, even of most harassing ones. - -It is probable that perfect sleep is undisturbed by dreams, pleasant -or otherwise. Dreams are an evidence of the semi-conscious condition -of some of the senses; the objective mind is no longer in control, but -is passive, and the subjective mind is active. Yet while dreaming, the -objective mind is not so completely unconscious (as it would be if -wrapped in profound slumber) but that it gets glimpses of the workings -of the subjective mind, often very distorted glimpses. This frequently -leads to horrible or impossible situations in dreams. - -It is an interesting question how far we are responsible for our -dreams. It is true in dreams, as in waking, that from the same -sensations individuals will evolve different results, just as -nasturtiums, drawing nourishment from the same soil, will put forth -blossoms of different color and odor. The factor that changes these -same elements into different results is something inherent in the -individual person or plant. - -So that we are not entirely responsible for what we dream, yet the -mental habits, the real tone of mind maintained during waking hours, -has its effect upon dreams. They constitute an index of the mind. So -far as sleep is concerned, of course, “subjective” mind is simply our -remembered experiences, our mental capital, and can be used in waking -hours and is constantly so used: we get traces of these in our dreams. -Age, sex, and temperament also affect the nature of dreams. - -If then our sleep is disturbed by unpleasant dreams, it becomes -necessary to investigate the causes. Have we eaten too much or too -hurriedly? Are our innermost thoughts clean and wholesome, fit for the -light of day? Roman philosophers held that he who wished to obtain -knowledge of the will of any of the gods, must fast and lie down to -sleep beside the shrine of the god, his thoughts filled with longing -and desire for such knowledge. There is more than mere superstition -in that. If we abstain from all excesses and are filled with desire -to know the will of the gods, dreams, when they come to us, will not -disturb or distress us. - -Dreams are admittedly sometimes prophetic, or have at least an indirect -significance touching events not yet come to pass. Galen tells of -a man who dreamed that his leg had turned to stone, and a few days -later found his leg paralyzed, perhaps an instance of auto-suggestion. -Gessner died from a malignant growth which developed in his breast in -the exact spot where, a few nights previously, he had dreamed that a -serpent bit him; while Aristides, dreaming that he was wounded in the -knee by a bull, awoke to find a tumor there. - -These and many better authenticated cases of dream warnings are not so -strange as they seem at first hearing. They may be explained largely -by the fact that remote and vague sensations of suffering and disease -are able to make deeper impression upon the mind when the interests and -activities of the waking life are submerged in sleep. - -The duration of dreams is another matter of great interest. Most -persons feel and say that they “dreamed all night long,” and will -proceed to support their statement by relating various incidents -of their dreams; their prolonged sensations of pleasure or horror; -the events that perhaps covered years. Yet, in reality, the dream -may have occupied less than a minute. The dreamer cannot measure -the time spent in dreaming, for the unconscious condition of the -objective mind obliterates the sense of time, space or material -limitations. This accounts for the prodigious feats, the marvels and -impossible achievements of dreams that seem to the dreamer in no way -disproportionate. - -What we do know is that some of the most wonderful dreams have occupied -but a few moments, and so far scientific research seems to limit them -to an hour or two at most. Mohammed’s dream was completed within the -time occupied by a falling vase; and it is on record that a man fell -asleep just as the clock struck the first stroke of twelve and awoke -in a cold sweat on the last stroke, having dreamed that he had spent -thirty years in prison, suffering tortures of mind and body. - -All this makes it easy to understand how, to an infinite mind, a -thousand years may be as one day and one day as a thousand years, and -how, in our degree, the quiet, self-controlled mind may be unmoved by -time. - -It is the vivid impression made by such dreams that makes us feel that -they must have lasted a long time. Then, as George Trumbull Ladd says, -the recital of our dreams is often colored, unconsciously, “by our -self-conscious and rational waking life when we bring the scene before -the awakened mind.” In other words, many sensations that we think we -experienced are heightened by the idea in the objective mind of what -such sensations ought to be. - -It may be that when the time comes that - - “No one shall work for money - And no one shall work for fame,” - -we shall find light and help in our dreams that is undreamed of now. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -NATURAL LIVING - - Sleep, the saint that evil thoughts and aims - Takest away, and into souls dost creep, - Like to a breeze from heaven. - - WORDSWORTH. - - -He who would get the benefit of sleep must look after health. - -Health, after all, is merely that condition where all parts of the -human organism work together without friction. We think of health as -something that is bestowed upon us from without; something over which -we have no control and almost no influence. Perhaps this queer idea is -partly responsible for the general lack of health to-day. - -It seems incredible that it is necessary that human beings endowed with -tremendous capacity for enjoyment, with everything at hand to enjoy, -should be hindered by a mere lack of that harmony that we call health -from fully enjoying life. It seems only reasonable that there must be -some explanation of lack of health and some way of escape from it. - -It is now generally admitted that most of the diseases to which man -thinks himself heir are due to improper, unnatural living. It could -safely be added that the remainder of our ill-health and distress comes -in large part from improper, unnatural thinking. - -The common man may laugh at the idea that we make our own ill-health; -if you were not more intelligent than the common man, you would not -read this book, so that you will probably see at once that your own -experience has taught you the truth of it. You will discover that you -have learned for yourself, albeit for the most part unconsciously, that -what a man thinks about, that he becomes. So it would seem that the -natural and proper thing to do, if we find ourselves suffering from -sleeplessness and ill-health, is to look after our way of living and -thinking. - -Medical science was once the attempt to cure disease; as Dr. Woods -Hutchinson says, it is now coming to be the science of preventing -disease, and everything that tends to that end is properly a part of -the science of medicine, though it have no connection with the myriad -drugs of the pharmacopœia. - -Until we compare conditions to-day with those of even fifty years -ago, we can form no idea of our rapid strides toward natural living. -If we walk the streets of the city or the roads of suburban towns and -villages very early in the morning, at any season of the year, we -shall find the vast majority of the houses with open windows. It is -true that the opening may not always be very wide, but they are open. -Fifty years ago all would have been closed. - -Within the recollection of those whose memories go back a quarter of -a century, we were taught that night air was dangerous to breathe and -was to be completely shut out from our houses. Now we know that the -organism needs fresh air by night as well as by day, and that the most -dangerous thing about night air is the lack of it. - -We now treat the most dreaded diseases, pneumonia and tuberculosis, -almost wholly by fresh air and nourishing food, administering drugs -only to check the symptoms until the system gets into condition to -throw them off. More than that, we know now that consumption, at least, -is not a mysterious dispensation of Providence visited upon certain -people without regard to individual responsibility. Rather it is always -the result of improper living or thinking, or both, and, when it is -the scourge of a district, as in thickly settled city slums, it is the -direct result of monopoly and oppression that deny the common interests -of all mankind. - -In 1865 Dr. W. W. Hall of New York published his book, “Sleep,” in -the preface of which he said: “It is the end and aim of this book to -show that as a means of high health, good blood, and a strong mind to -old and young, sick or well, each one should have a single bed in -a large, clean, light room, so as to pass all the hours of sleep in -a pure, fresh air, and that those who fail in this, will in the end -fail in health and strength of limb and brain, and will die while yet -their days are not all told.” That this physician with a large practice -should find it necessary to write a book to set forth the necessity -of fresh air during sleeping-hours, goes to show how little the mass -of our people knew even fifty years ago. We hear so much about fresh -air in these days that we forget that the preceding generation was in -deadly terror of it. - -All things point to a marked advance during the past decades, in the -understanding of conditions necessary for health, but, after all, we -have come but a very little way along the road we must travel to get -the most out of life. - -We owe a good deal of our advance in this direction to physicians and -others who have broken loose from traditions and have not feared to -put their ideas and discoveries to the test. Nature has provided all -things for “the healing of the nations,” if we but trust her. As Dr. -Shattuck, a famous Boston surgeon, used to say in making his rounds in -the Massachusetts General Hospital, “There is one inestimable gift -God has given to man—an abundance of fresh air.” It was his method of -announcing that he did not think the ventilation of room or ward was -sufficient, and the nurses understood that, and immediately admitted -more air into the room. - -In the wards of that great institution were dozens of persons who had -never before heard of the value of fresh air: being compelled by evil -social conditions to live in districts where sunshine and air were -rarities, they had never heard of any relation between health and fresh -air. They frequently learned that lesson there. - -A little device which we call “the Perfect Gift of Sleep” is a great -help in excluding the light without excluding the air, and especially -valuable in that most delightful change, sleeping out of doors. A bag -is made of dark green or blue or black silk or satin, about four inches -wide and eight inches long, and very loosely filled with sweet pine -needles. It is laid lightly over the eyes. - -This may seem too trivial to bother about, but the increased comfort -and the better quality of sleep which it brings is astonishing. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -FRESH AIR AND REFRESHING SLEEP - - Somnus, that walks the world from twilights’ wane - All the night long till day be born again. - - EDGAR FAWCETT. - - -It is not so necessary now as when Dr. Hall wrote to urge the -importance of large, airy sleeping-rooms. But it is amazing to find how -many, even among the so-called “better classes,” neglect to open their -windows wide at night. I have known people out in the country whose -bedroom windows could hardly be made to open, so seldom did they admit -the air. Indeed, they were also heavily shaded so that they might not -admit the sunshine. - -That such people have been able to live at all is due to the patience -of Nature, or to the fact that so much of the day is spent in the open -air that it helps to counteract the effect of the closed-up night. Even -then they do not escape early wrinkles, bent shoulders, and a look of -age long before their time. We used to attribute these to the hard -work of the farmer’s life, but we might more properly attribute it to -improper living. - -Besides an abundance of fresh air day and night, summer and winter, -personal cleanliness immensely aids to health and the ability to sleep. -In the old days we bathed to clean ourselves when dirty. It was an -advance on that when someone said he took a bath every spring and fall, -whether he needed it or not. In those days once a week was considered -frequent. To-day we bathe to keep clean. - -Someone, probably Joseph Fels, has said that the civilization of -a people may best be estimated by the amount of soap and water it -consumes. If we start out well-groomed in the morning—fresh from the -bath with clean linen, clothes brushed and all our personal needs duly -attended to—we carry our heads higher, feel an uplift of body and mind -that is impossible to the careless or untidy person. - -The same influence applies to going to bed at night. If we retire -soiled and worn from the day’s experiences, we may toss and turn -with discomfort whose source we may not understand, or we fall into -heavy, unrefreshing sleep. The body does most of its breathing during -sleeping-time. You know how the moisture from the breath shows on a -mirror when you breathe on it: well, the skin gives off about three -times as much moisture as the breath, and, unless the pores of the skin -are free from all obstructions such as dust, old, dried perspiration, -and similar soil, it cannot perform its work properly and to the -advantage of the sleeper. If you don’t like water, use oil as the -Easterns do. Even dry rubbing, if the skin is moist, will keep the -pores open. - -The little trouble entailed is more than offset by the refreshed -feeling, the lightening of the mind as well as of the body, the more -restful sleep, and the better health resulting from the practice. - -One of the advantages of the night bath is that it reminds us to change -all the clothes we have worn during the day. If they must be worn again -the next day, they should be spread out on the backs of chairs or on -hangers, that they may be thoroughly aired before morning. If we feel -that we must have something more than the pajamas or night-robe, then -there should be separate sets of underclothes kept for that purpose -alone—old, thin, partly-worn ones may be reserved for this use. - -Whether baths should be hot, warm, or cold must depend upon the -individual. There is no set rule that applies equally to all persons. -Many persons find the cold plunge or shower most invigorating in the -morning,—it is too stimulating to be taken at night—and others cannot -stand the shock of contact with cold water at any time. There is but -one wise thing to do—to experiment for yourself and adopt the sort of -bath that seems best suited to your needs. Most people will find the -warm bath more satisfactory than the hot or cold. - -And remember that it is not only the lungs that need fresh air: the -skin needs it too, and, next to overeating, the quickest way to -“catch” cold is to bundle up in heavy perspiration-holding flannels. -Linen mesh is excellent, but, whatever underclothing is worn, it should -not suffocate the millions of pores of the skin. - -An airy room, free from hangings, carpets, street clothes, and all -other dust-gatherers; a clean body; a contented mind—these are -important factors both in sleep and in general health, and, best of -all, they are inexpensive enough to be within the reach of nearly -everybody. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE BREATH OF LIFE - - In winter I get up at night - And dress by yellow candle-light. - In summer, quite the other way, - I have to go to bed by day. - - I have to go to bed and see - The birds still hopping on the tree, - Or hear the grown-up people’s feet - Still going past me in the street. - - And does it not seem hard to you, - When all the sky is clear and blue, - And I should like so much to play, - To have to go to bed by day? - - “Bed in Summer.” - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. - - -One of the most common causes of ill-health and sleeplessness is -improper breathing. Breathing is the fundamental function of life, the -first at birth and the last at death, and when it is badly performed we -are sure to have trouble. The great majority of people never use the -whole of their lungs in breathing. By this neglect the blood is never -sufficiently oxygenated to burn out all impurities. - -But you may say, “I am not responsible for the way I breathe; I do -that “automatically,” and you would be in a degree correct. It is -true that we are not conscious of the act of breathing. It would be an -intolerable burden upon the mind if every breath required conscious -attention. We could hardly attend to anything else. - -That is no reason, however, why we should not regulate our breathing -for our own benefit. Breathing, though an habitual organic act, is -under the indirect control of the higher centers of the nervous system. -We must, as Dr. Worcester says, re-educate the lower centers to -breathe, and to do this it is necessary to give conscious attention to -it for a time. If we wish to replace bad breathing by good breathing, -we must fix our attention regularly upon drawing the breath, practice -the right sort of breathing, and impress upon the vital mechanism that -this new order of breathing is to be adopted, for the way to be rid of -a bad habit is to replace it with a good one. If we persevere in this -course, the right method can very easily be established. - -By the right method is meant breathing from the diaphragm. If you -will watch the act of breathing among your friends for even one day, -you will discover for yourself how few do it well. The great majority -breathe with the upper part of the lungs only, so that the chest -visibly rises and falls in time with the inhalations and exhalations. -Such persons may be unconscious of their own breathing, but they make -all who observe them conscious of it. They are not only injuring -themselves, but making a claim upon the attention of others that is -scarcely justifiable. - -Quick, short breathing is one of the signs either of excitement or of -depression, some pleasurable or painful emotion or sensation, but it -is not a means to health. If we have this habit, we may find in it an -explanation of many of the trifling ills and discomforts from which we -suffer, and of not a few of the more serious ones. - -Emily M. Bishop, who has given much study to the effect of our habits -of mind and body upon our health and spirits, says, in her latest book, -“Daily Ways of Living,” that we may change the whole current of our -thought by a change in breathing. She wisely advises her readers the -next time they feel depressed or worried, “blue,” or “miserable,” to -try drawing deep, full breaths. If you are not in good spirits, try -that now: “spirit” means the breath. - -Open the windows and let in fresh air, if within doors; inhale deeply, -hold it, and then exhale rather quickly. After only four or five such -inhalations you will find that the miserable feeling has disappeared or -is greatly lessened. The “blues” cannot live while good red blood is -circulating rapidly through the veins and arteries. It is only when the -blood is sluggish or not sufficiently purified by the indrawn oxygen -that worry and depression can hold us in their thrall. Deep breathing -is a simple remedy for the blues, but its effectiveness makes it worth -trying. - -Proper breathing will often ward off a cold, especially a cold due to -chill. As soon as you feel yourself getting chilly, act. The feeling of -chilliness is a proof that the resistance of the body is below normal. -The cause may be interior, due to the presence of some poison in the -system, or it may be due entirely to external causes. In either event, -to purify the blood and improve its circulation is the best sort of -“first aid to the injured.” Inhale until you can feel it in your fingers -and toes, exhale quickly, and repeat the operation until you feel -all aglow. Mlle. Marie de Palkowska, whose special work is teaching -correct breathing, says: “The nerve centers are directly affected -by the condition of the blood, and they are enfeebled, contracted, -or irritated by an excess of carbon and nitrogen in it, producing -depression of spirits; but, if the blood is circulating freely, the -nerves are quieted and well-nourished by the supply of oxygen, through -the process of correct breathing, and the result is perfect health of -mind and body and a happy optimism.” Worry, sleeplessness, and disease -do not easily lay hold upon one who has “perfect health of mind and -body and a happy optimism.” If these may be secured through intelligent -attention to breathing, there is no reason why they should not be as -common as they are natural. The more we look into the question of -health, whether physical, mental, or moral, the more clearly we see -that poise is only possible through conformity to universal law. It -could not be otherwise. - -Earlier in this inquiry we have traced the interdependence, the unity -of man’s three natures—the physical, the mental, and the spiritual,—and -the value of correct breathing to the whole man is in perfect keeping -with that interdependence. In the process of digestion, upon which -physical health so largely depends, we create poisons within ourselves -and accumulate waste matter. The organism must be momently purified -of these wastes, or putrefaction quickly follows. Autotoxins form, as -the doctors say. The function of breathing, when properly controlled, -affords the quickest and best method of cleansing the blood of these -impurities. If we have not this proper control, the poisons are not -eliminated and the supply of blood to the brain is vitiated. - -Just as the body cannot perform its functions well if we are compelled -to live upon tainted food, so the brain cannot do its work well if -the blood—its food—is impure. Breathing which expands the diaphragm -so purifies the blood as it passes through the lungs, that it becomes -an important factor in maintaining health and poise in body and mind, -which in their turn react upon the spirit. - -This sort of breathing is more common among men than among women, -due in part to natural physical differences and in part to dress. -Man breathes largely from the abdomen, while woman breathes chiefly -from the chest, expanding only the upper portion of the lungs. This -is partly a natural and partly an artificial necessity, due to the -pressure of the corset upon the diaphragm. Both men and women would -find their physical health improved and their outlook on life broadened -and brightened by proper control of the function of breathing. If we -are sleepless, nervous, too alert, as well as if we are heavy, dull, -and inactive, we will find it worth our while to try conscious breath -control. It takes but a comparatively short time to re-educate the -automatic centers into correct breathing and the result is always good. - -It no less behooves the man who is trying to live largely on the -rational plane, than the man who is living wholly on the physical -plane, to make his efforts both easier and more effective by such -simple attention to natural laws. The next time you are worried, -depressed, or sleepless, change the air of the room and try deep and -correct breathing for a few minutes. You will be surprised at the -complete change wrought in you, if you are not suffering from some -serious organic breakdown which needs skilled attention. And even that -condition may be helped by proper breathing. - -But we are not to forget that, like calisthenic and gymnastic -exercises, the training of the breathing is really little more than a -device for correcting the results of wrong living and only a substitute -for right living. The man or the woman who does plenty of healthful, -normal work, who often pants and gets “out of breath,” naturally -expands the lungs and has as little use for breathing exercises as for -tight clothing. - -A buck-saw, a spade, or even a broom is better than a teacher of -breathing and a better corrector of sleeplessness. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -EATING AND SLEEPING - - For his sleep - Was aery light, from pure digestion bred. - - MILTON. - - -We do not have to depend upon mere irresponsible guesses for the new -faith in the possibility of longer life for man. Scientists have been -experimenting along this line for some years, and Metchnikoff assures -us that the average human life should exceed “three-score years and -ten” by four decades. - -He points out that the greatly increased number of persons who remain -physically and mentally active past the age of seventy-five and eighty -years is itself a proof that life may be prolonged. He recognizes that -merely to extend existence is not a sufficient end to work for—it must -be an active, worthwhile existence, and he has experimented toward this -end. - -All of us can recall instances of “old people” who have preserved -their physical and mental faculties until their last years. We have -been in the habit of regarding these people as exceptions and have -perhaps not noticed that these “exceptions” are already almost -frequent enough to prove that there is no such rule for longevity. - -Whenever we investigate a new and wonderful thing, we find that -its causes are simple and ordinary. So Metchnikoff and kindred -experimenters are beginning to show us that prolonging life is a -comparatively simple matter. It comes back again to diet and sleep on -the physical side and to understanding of the universal laws on the -mental and the emotional side of life. - -All scientific men agree that nearly all of us eat too much, or eat -improper food. Most of them say that we sleep too much, or try to sleep -too much. They advise simple diet, varied but not heavy. It is probable -that the early human being ate as the wild animals do, to appease -hunger, and had to eat whatever he could find without regard to taste. -As civilization advanced and he learned ways of getting increased -returns from Nature, he began to select and choose what he should eat. -In this way he developed “appetite” as apart from natural hunger, and -as his knowledge increased, and his taste became more and more refined, -appetite gradually took the place of hunger. - -People ordinarily seldom know the pleasure of satisfying real hunger. -Because of habit, the appetite stirs as often as three or five times -a day and we gratify it. We must have certain foods prepared in a -certain way. Eating becomes an end in itself, rather than merely a -means to an end. If appetite is fully indulged, he becomes heavy, -suffers from indigestion and sleeplessness, talks of stomach trouble -and consequent “loss of appetite.” He seeks a physician to restore -what he is really better without. Not every physician is as wise as -the one to whom a cook once applied. She told her story of inability -to eat her meals, of uncertain and unrestful sleep, increased weight, -and shortness of breath. The physician heard her tale of woe and asked -her the size of the family for which she cooked and about their mode -of living. He learned that the family consisted of five, and that they -entertained lavishly. “Do you taste all the food you prepare?” was the -next question. - -“Yes, sir; I must taste it to be sure it is just right.” “Ah!” -replied the doctor; “put on a plate exactly the same quantity of -everything that you take to taste—no more, no less—and send it to me -to-morrow evening.” - -Much to the cook’s astonishment, at the close of the next day, which -had included a dinner-party, there was a heaping platter of food, more -than she would have thought it possible to eat even at three meals. - -“It is not a tonic you want,” said the physician. “You already eat -too much, which accounts for your loss of appetite, shortness of -breath, and sleeplessness. It may be necessary for you to taste all -the food you cook, but take smaller ‘tastes’ and eat nothing else on -cooking days. I cannot help you; you must help yourself.” (Being an -ignorant woman, she went to another doctor and got some ill-tasting -drug.) - -And such is, after all, the decision of all the scientific -investigators into the life and health of men: We must help ourselves -by understanding the laws of life and observing them. - -Most rich persons are really like the man who applied to his physician -about “loss of appetite.” “Try beginning dinner with raw oysters,” -said the doctor. In a few days the patient returned, to say that the -oysters did no good. - -“Maybe you didn’t eat enough?” said the doctor. - -“Well,” said the man, “I ate four dozen.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -SLEEPING AND EATING - - Man’s rich restorative, his balmy bath - That supplies, lubricates and keeps in play - The various movements of this nice machine. - - YOUNG. - - -“There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of” in -anybody’s philosophy or understanding of living; it is not strange that -the great mass have not dreamed of eating as a cause of sleeplessness -and ill-health, though they may dream in consequence of it. It is -generally believed that a hearty meal of any indigestible food -immediately before bed is bad for sleep: yet animals and primitive -men always sleep after they are gorged. But few recognize that the -whole plan of eating may be responsible for sleeplessness or excessive -sleepiness. For, like fatigue, food may either bring or prevent sleep. - -In these days not even the most fastidious will object to a discussion -of the ethics and æsthetics of feeding. It is no longer “the -gratification of a vulgar necessity,” but a matter of keen scientific -interest. Colleges give courses in the chemistry of food that we may -know what combinations it is wise to make, while some of the leading -universities have made severe practical tests of some of the new “fads -in eating.” There are so many theories of eating to-day that one may -take his choice, and, if the quality of both health and sleep is not -improved, he can run through the list and then take what is best of -each. - -When Dr. W. W. Hall wrote his book on fresh air in the sleeping-room, -he added, in a casual sort of way, this piece of advice to the would-be -sleeper, “Always eat slowly and in moderation of well-divided food.” -That is advice that will bear infinite repetition. It is really the -keynote of all the present-day theories of eating. It applies equally -well to omnivorous and vegetarian peoples. - -Horace Fletcher says, “You may eat anything you like, if you eat it -at the right time and in the right way,” and, when one has learned -what Mr. Fletcher thinks is the right time and way, one has grasped -the whole of “Fletcherism.” It consists in eating only when one is -hungry—so hungry that “the mouth waters and one could stand and whinny -like a horse at the smell of bread”—and then chewing just as long as -there is any taste left to the food. I have known children to get -the habit of eating too fast, with indigestion and restlessness as a -consequence, because the nurse stood beside the table with a spoonful -always ready and waiting while the last was being swallowed. We may -avoid that habit for ourselves or cure ourselves of it by always laying -down the knife and fork or spoon after each mouthful. This insures some -time to chew. - -It is the opinion of all those who have special theories on “what to -eat and how to eat it” that civilized man scarcely knows what true -hunger is. We are so in the habit of eating at fixed and customary -hours that we create “habit hunger,” which has but slight connection -with Nature’s demands for sustenance. In accordance with this idea, -fasting is again becoming popular and all sorts of good results are -claimed for it. The “devil of unrest and disease” is now being -reckoned among “those that go not out but by fasting and prayer.” -Fasting and prayer meant the physical and the spiritual treatment -together. - -Fasting has long been imposed upon man as a religious rite, generally -as penance for some “sin,” but now it is being advised and -self-imposed for the sake of its physical advantages. It may well be -that the habit of fasting for health’s sake originated with prehistoric -man and was diverted into religious channels and its original -significance forgotten. So many “religious rites” have come about in -this way that it is fair to assume that fasting may have, also. - -However that may be, the practice is coming into scientific prominence, -and Charles C. Haskell in his book, “Perfect Health: How to Get it -and How to Keep it, by One Who Has It,” made much of the importance of -fasting. If one is ill, fasting will make him well, according to Mr. -Haskell. He gives numerous instances of the benefits that have followed -fasts extending from one to nine or even more days. Mr. Upton Sinclair -has written of his happy experience of abstinence in “The Fasting -Cure.” As soon as the system is ready for food, true hunger will -appear, says Mr. Haskell, and, like Mr. Fletcher, he regards “watering -at the mouth”—the free flow of saliva—as the best index of real hunger. - -But, unlike Fletcher, Haskell is a vegetarian pure and simple, as that -word is generally understood. Haskell says, “Nature has provided -a natural food for man, and it is the vegetable kingdom.” He also -strongly urges upon the seeker for sound health, which means sound -sleep, to give up the habit of taking breakfast, thus conquering -appetite and restoring real hunger. This is, indeed, the first precept -he lays down; and the second is much like it. It runs, “Never eat -except at the call of Natural Hunger.” Third, “Enjoy to the full every -mouthful of food as long as any taste remains in it.” Fourth, “Do -not drink any liquids with your meals.” The rules are simple enough -to follow if you have any cause to suspect that your mode of life is -the cause of “poor sleep.” This book has no special brand of food to -recommend, nor does it intend to say what any man should or should not -eat. Sir Henry Thompson is about right when he says that “No man can -tell another what he can or ought to eat, without knowing what are the -habits of life and work—mental and bodily—of the person to be advised. -One rule cannot apply to all.” - -All that the writer aims to do is to set forth the best theories of -how to insure sound sleep and good health, and to leave it to the -individual reader to try whichever he thinks fits. It is what he will -do, anyway, if he is a wise man; for only by following the course he -most desires can he learn whether these desires are to be trusted as -guides to happiness and well-being. - -But—most persons eat too much or too often or too fast. Maybe you do, -too. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -SOME MODERN THEORIES OF SLEEP - - I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. - - SHAKESPEARE. - - -There have been almost as many theories of sleep and its causes as -there have been investigators, but these theories may be grouped under -a few main heads: - -Physiological, or that which has to do with some bodily conditions -only, and which made men think that sleep was dependent upon the -circulation of the blood or upon decreased consumption of oxygen, was -an early one of these theories. It has had many advocates and has led -to many interesting experiments that have increased the sum of general -knowledge, although they have not explained sleep. - -Delicate instruments, with formidable names, have been invented -and successfully used to measure the intensity of sleep and to -note its phenomena. Two of the experimenters—C. E. Brush, Jr., and -R. Fayerweather of the Physiological Laboratory of Johns Hopkins -University—through long, intricate and exhaustive experiments, have -found that sleep is most intense and the pressure of blood in the -arteries lowest during the first half of the sleeping period. After we -have completed the first half of our sleep, the intensity or soundness -of sleep becomes less, and the pressure of blood in the arteries -continues to increase up to the moment of awaking. - -It is interesting to learn that the moment when we are most soundly -sleeping is at the end of the first hour of sleep, and that the -blood-pressure has at that time reached its very lowest point. Messrs. -Brush and Fayerweather report that, during the first few hours of -sleep, the blood-pressure continues to fall and then begins a gradual -rise. The tendency is to more and more rapid flow of the blood, but -this rise is not steady or regular, because it is broken by long waves -when the force of the circulation falls and the pulse is weaker than it -was a moment or two before. The rapidity of the blood-flow is greater -on the moment of awakening than just before dropping to sleep. This -increase is not sudden, but is the culmination of the rise that begins -a few hours after we fall asleep. (See Appendix B.) - -The intensity or depth of sleep is shown by a curve that looks like a -pile of sand with the top scooped off. It increases rather slowly, in -most cases, for the first quarter-hour: then quickly, so that half an -hour later the person is most “sound asleep.” He stays so, on the -level top, for about half an hour. That is the time that wise burglars -and late husbands choose to steal into the house, about an hour after -everyone is asleep. After that time the sleeper reverses the process of -falling into deep sleep by getting nearer to waking for half an hour -and then getting, at first rapidly, nearer to waking for two or three -hours. In the last three or four hours healthy and normal persons reach -about the same proportions of time and intensity of sleep, so that the -Indian-bow-shaped curve fairly represents how long it takes everybody -to deepen his sleep. Kohlschütter found how great an intensity of sound -was needed to awaken a sleeper at different periods throughout the -night. His curve thus made tallies very exactly with that of Brush and -Fayerweather, obtained in quite a different way. - -Some other investigators have pointed out that, interesting as -this theory is, it proves one thing about as completely as it does -the other. For, while it is plain that sleep and the great fall in -blood-pressure exist at the same moment, it is not conclusively shown -which is cause and which is effect. Does sleep cause the fall in -blood-pressure, or does the fall in blood-pressure cause sleep? The two -are coexistent, but who can say which begins first? - -It looks as if sleep might be more justly considered the cause, if -one takes the sleeping-position, and maintains the attitude of mind -suitable to induce sleep, blood-pressure grows less, even though the -patient does not actually fall asleep. - -Under this physiological view must come also the chemical theory based -on the fact that we consume more oxygen during the day, thus forming -carbon dioxide and other poisons which cause sleepiness. During the -night we absorb oxygen, building up the tissues, and eliminating the -poisons of the waking hours. - -The poisons which are the result of the consumption of oxygen cause -fatigue, and according to Preyer, a European authority, “sleep is the -direct consequence of fatigue, or rather of the fatigue products in -the blood.” His contention is that, if lactic acid and other chemical -products of the consumption of oxygen in the body were injected -artificially, sleep would follow. Experiments in this direction made by -Preyer, Fisher, and L. Meyer have yielded such contradictory results -that the theory is not proved thereby. - -The idea that sleep is the result of poisons in the system takes us -into the pathological theory of sleep, which regards it as a sort of -disease like epilepsy or auto-intoxication. We produce by our own -activities the poisons which cause insensibility until the system -cleanses itself. Professor Leo Errera of Brussels says that “work in -the organism is closely bound up with a chemical breaking down.” Among -the products of this breakdown are “leucomaines,” the scientific -name for poisons formed in living tissue, and just the opposite to -“ptomaines,” which, however, are also virulent poisons. - -Professor Errera tells us that, during our waking hours, we produce -more leucomaines than the oxygen we absorb can destroy. This excess is -carried along by the blood and held by the brain centers, and in time -produces sleep, just as any poisonous anæsthetic, such as morphine, -would produce sleep. - -While we are sleeping we absorb much oxygen and we recover from the -effects of our self-intoxication. Errera maintains that work, fatigue, -sleep, and repair are not merely successive events, but phenomena -chained together in a regular and necessary cycle. He explains -sleeplessness due to overfatigue on the theory that small doses of -poisons induce sleep and large doses induce excitement and even -convulsions. - -Manacéïne points out that this theory is good from a purely physical -standpoint, but does not explain our power to postpone sleep or the -faculty of waking at a fixed hour. We can do both, and any adequate -theory of sleep must explain why we can control the tendency to sleep, -but cannot control the symptoms of ordinary poisoning. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -EARLY THEORIES OF SLEEP - - Balm that tames all anguish. - - WORDSWORTH. - - -Mr. Edward Binns of London, as early as 1842, published a book called -“The Anatomy of Sleep”—with the subtitle, “The Art of Procuring Sound -and Refreshing Slumber at Will.” The subtitle makes one think of the -three-volume novels of that time, but the book is fairly concise and -worth careful review. Moreover, it is in advance of many works on sleep -both before and after. (For ancient surmises see Appendix C.) - -One of the favorite medical theories of sleep is that it is caused by -fatigue, and is, therefore, purely passive in its nature. Binns did not -accept this theory. He said, “Sleep is an active and positive faculty, -not a negative and passive result of fatigue or weariness.” Some of -the more modern writers, notably Manacéïne, agree with Dr. Binns that -sleep is not the result of physical fatigue or weariness. Dr. Binns -thinks that one proof that fatigue can in no sense be said to be the -cause of sleep is that, if we prolong “the state of wakefulness after -the usual period of retiring to rest, it is more difficult to induce -sleep than if we went at the usual hour.” This is especially true of -children, yet the patient may be much more fatigued at the later hour -than at the usual bedtime. - -Binns’ theory is that physiological sleep is in antagonism to -intellectual activity, being the active process of nutrition, -assimilation of food, or of the repair of the waste of the body; that -it concerns the nerve centers: that is, “the ganglionic system.” It -is a generally admitted theory that man’s activity, whether physical -or mental, “uses up” tissue and nerve force, and that it is only when -repair exceeds this waste that life is maintained at a high standard. -If the activities of life be many and varied, much sleep according to -this theory would be needed to repair the waste of force. Experience -has shown that those who live purely physical lives, doing hard manual -labor with little mental exercise, need the most sleep. Those whose -activities are mostly mental generally sleep fewer hours, though the -desire for sleep may be as intense when it comes as is that of the -manual laborer. (See Appendix, Questionnaire.) - -Regarding sleep as a necessity, in itself an “active and positive -faculty,” Binns says of it that “it is the true ‘vis medicatrix -naturæ’ —the healing force of nature—to whose vigilance we are -indebted for that condition of mind and body called ‘health.’” However, -he is not an advocate of long hours of sleep for everybody. He thinks -individuals differ widely in the amount of sleep needed. He makes the -general statement that, “the lower the cerebral organs in the scale -of organization, the greater the power of sleep.” On this point all -the authorities agree, and even in our own experience we learn that. -The animals nearest to man in point of development sleep more than man -sleeps; and, among men, those who live the most sluggish mental and -emotional lives sleep longer than those whose brains are more active. - -There may, of course, be exceptions to this rule, and yet those -exceptions would not disprove that there is a rule. Much depends, -says the good doctor, upon the peculiarities “of the individual; the -culture of his mind; his amusement, his food, his occupation, and the -temper with which he wooes sleep. General Elliot never slept more -than four hours out of twenty-four, and his food consisted wholly of -bread, vegetables, and water.” This seems like one more link in the -chain that binds up our habits of eating with our power to sleep. -Just as heavy eating late at night may so disturb our slumber as to -leave us practically sleepless, so general heavy eating may render us -so incapable of mental activity that sleep may take possession of -us. General Elliot’s slight need of sleep was probably due, in large -measure, to his light diet, and Dr. Binns seems to be of that opinion. -We notice that flesh-eating animals, especially serpents, gorge and -then sleep long. - -A modern medical authority, Sir Henry Thompson of London, in his -book, “Diet in Relation to Age and Activity,” takes somewhat similar -ground, although careful to state that he is not “a vegetarian.” He -says: “I have been compelled by facts to accept the conclusion that -as much mischief in the form of actual disease, impaired vigor and -shortened life accrues to civilized man, so far as I have observed -in our own country and throughout almost every part of Europe, from -erroneous habits in eating as from the habitual use of alcoholic drink, -considerable as I know the evil of that to be.” [9] - -[9] See chap. xxi on “Natural Living.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -MORE THEORIES - - To Sleep I give my powers away - My will is bondsman to the dark; - I sit within a helmless bark. - - TENNYSON. - - -There is another class of investigators who aim to explain what might -be called the nervous mechanism of sleep rather than its causes. -These are the histologists, and theirs is the “histological” theory -of sleep. There is a vast literature on this one phase of sleep -theorizing alone, and it is deeply interesting to those who, in order -to understand this theory, are willing to wrestle with the difficult -and technical terms. - -The general reader, unfamiliar with physiological terms, is bewildered -by such a word as “neuroglia.” He wonders what sort of a fossil that -is, when in fact it is merely a particular sort of tissue found in -the central nervous system; a substance without any nervous property -serving a purpose merely similar to cement. So that, after all, like -much science, it is simple enough when put in plain words. - -Some histologists hold that the neuroglia is able to contract or -expand; that, when expanded, it takes or receives impressions from -without, and, when it contracts, it shuts out such impressions, thus -inducing sleep. Dr. J. Leonard Corning, of New York, says that -“Sleep may be defined as that state of the central nervous system in -which the higher centers are, to a great extent, in a condition of -physiological quiescence, with all the consequences thereby implied.” -Dr. Corning means that the nervous centers of the brain are inactive, -as a result of contraction, and that this state results in drowsiness -and in consequent loss of the consciousness. He recognizes, however, -that this purely physical condition does not always produce sleep; that -there may be disturbing causes within. He says: “Those who suffer from -sleeplessness are, almost without exception, beset by a variety of -disagreeable mental symptoms during the day, dread of impending evil, -irritability, depression, dread of society, etc.” Although these are -often the result of wrong states of mind or heart, he recommends for -such cases warm baths, Turkish baths, massage, and for obstinate cases -he even suggests the use of drugs, because he regards the formation -of habits of insomnia as more likely than the formation of the drug -habit. This suggestion is not generally favored by the investigators -of sleep, the most of whom discountenance the use of drugs. Almost -everyone has known somebody who contracted the “drug habit,” or has -heard of somebody who died from the effects of an overdose of some -poison taken to induce sleep. Nobody should dose himself with drugs, -hoping to get good results from sleep thus secured. It is wiser by -far to discover the cause of sleeplessness and remove it, rather than -merely to stupefy ourselves for the time being. - -It was as a worker along histological lines that Henry Hubbard Foster -of Cornell University became convinced that sleep is induced by the -absence of stimuli: that is, of things that attract and hold our -attention. It may be that the individual withdraws from all stimulating -conditions and creates conditions to cause sleep, as we do when we -prepare for bed; or it may be that, because of fatigue, our senses do -not respond to the things that would otherwise stimulate us. In either -event, the result is the same—there is an absence of stimuli. - -Foster believes that the present state of our development is not -sufficient to meet the demands of continuous activity of the senses and -the brain. “If it were not for fatigue,” he says, “the development of -the nervous system might be carried to such a point that consciousness -could be present continuously.” He finds the reason for sleep in “a -temporary derangement of the nervous system.” According to Boris Sidis -of Harvard, who has experimented extensively on frogs, cats, birds, -dogs, children, and adults, the cells of the central nervous system, by -expanding and contracting, connect themselves with, or cut themselves -off from the whole nervous system, and induce “waking-states and -sleeping-states.” The purely scientific man is forever aiming to -reduce all the phenomena of human life to a simple formula. But no -formula has yet been discovered which includes all phases of life to -the satisfaction of all its students. Hence we have so many different -theories of so natural and universal a function as sleep, none of them -perfectly satisfactory even to their discoverers or inventors, and none -affording any great help to those who want to know how to sleep. - -This whole neuron theory, as it is called, of dilating and contracting -is really no more complete an explanation than any of the others. No -perfect explanation of any natural function can be given until we can -fully explain life. That has not yet been done. The most advanced -biologists can say, “Here life appears,” but they cannot absolutely -define life any more than they can create it out of inanimate things. - -We know, however, that in sleep, sight, nearly useless to man in the -gloom of night, goes first to rest. Next taste goes. Then smell, still -so useful to animals, deserts us. Then touch is dulled. Last of all, -the hearing relaxes its guard, though with some persons it stays long -awake. Noise will arouse us quicker than a touch; and last the light. - -As you drop off to sleep you can notice the decreased sensation in the -long-serving feet which feels as if it slowly climbs to the muscles in -the head and neck. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -STILL MORE THEORIES - - Sleep sits upon his brow; - His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm. - - LONGFELLOW. - - -We have not yet exhausted all the theories, nor shown how much too much -some of them and how far too little all of them prove. - -The two remaining scientific theories of sleep are the psychological -and the biological. The best modern exponent of the psychological -theory is Marie de Manacéïne, who defines sleep as “the resting-time -of consciousness.” Persons whose consciousness is but little developed, -young children, and those of weak intellect, usually require a great -deal of sleep, while persons whose minds are active, alert, responsive, -get along with comparatively little sleep. - -For a long time it was believed that living creatures devoid of -consciousness would not sleep at all, but recent experiments have -apparently weakened that conclusion. Dogs, pigeons, and other animals -deprived of brains in the interest of scientific discovery, appear to -sleep, that is, they have periods of inactivity, just as those with -brains and consciousness. Belmondo, after repeated experiments, drew -the conclusion that sleep is not a purely cerebral function, as some -believe, but that the whole organism sleeps; and the brain sleeps only -because the organs of sense sleep. This, however, is doubtful. - -And this is in sum and substance the biological theory of sleep, -that the whole organism sleeps, but even here there are exceptions. -It is true that the heart beats less rapidly; that we breathe less -frequently; that the brain cells cease their functioning because the -neuroglia contracts and shuts off or lessens their joint activity; -the motor consciousness rests; the nerves of sensation refuse to be -stimulated, we sleep. Yet we know that the spinal cord never sleeps, -that certain functions of the body continue uninterruptedly in the -sleeping-state as in the waking-state, and, after all these years of -theorizing and experimenting, we do not know definitely what sleep is. -We know the mechanism of sleep, its manifestations and its effects; -we know that continued sleeplessness means madness and death; that -sleep is essential to the physical and mental well-being of the human -organism, but we do not know what sleep is any more than we know what -life is. There is a limit to what material science can know. - -Heubel, who is one of the recent supporters of the psychological -theory of sleep, says that “Mental activity depends on the incoming -peripheral sensory stimulations; when such peripheral sensory -stimulations are absent, mental activity is in abeyance and sleep -results.” This is, in effect, to say that, when things about us no -longer give us any sensation, when they do not attract or hold our -attention, we fall asleep. But we all know of exceptions to this rule. -We have seen others fall into “a brown study,” and have probably done -so ourselves, and become perfectly lost to all about them; absorbed in -their own reflections, they neither hear nor see the things happening -around them. For the time being “peripheral sensory stimulations” are -absent, and yet mental activity continues and sleep does not result. - -The biological theory of sleep considers all the other theories, while -formulating its own, because biology considers the whole organism and -not only one organ or function of the body. From a different point of -view Binns’ theory is confirmed by Claperède, who points out that, -“biologically regarded, sleep has its significance not as a passive -state, but as an active instinct, like all the other instincts of -animal life.” There is a degree of satisfaction to be found in this -theory. It might be stated in this way, that, when man has had during -any period all the sensations and experiences he can digest, the -instinct to sleep takes possession of him. It is not that he becomes -helpless in the hands of those experiences, but that his whole nature, -like his stomach, knows when it has had food enough, and desires time -for digestion and assimilation before it takes in more. Obviously, -“utter separation from the phenomenal world,” as John Bigelow expresses -it, becomes necessary. - -In his lectures on Botany at the Royal School of Medicine in Great -Britain, Professor Leo H. Grindon said: “Man is captured in sleep not -by death but by his better nature; to-day runs in through a deeper day -to become the parent of to-morrow, and to issue every morning, bright -as the morning of life, and of life-size, from the peaceful womb of -the cerebellum.” This is the result not of a passive state, but of an -active instinct; it accepts sleep as a time of growth, not merely a -time of rest. Bigelow says, “Something goes on during sleep which is -a preventive as well as an antidote to mania,” and, in furtherance of -this same idea, Dr. J. J. G. Wilkinson of the Royal College of Surgeons -of London, argues that it seems “as if a reason more perfect than -reason, and uninfluenced by its partialities, had been at work when -we were in our beds.” Even “biologically regarded,” Bigelow is not -far astray when he claims that “our desire for sleep is manifestly -designed to promote in us the growth and development of spiritual -graces.” In other words, we desire to sleep, that we may relate the -experiences of our every-day active life to the sum of knowledge we -already possess by inheritance and past experience, that we may thereby -get a fuller understanding of life and its purposes. - -“It is not uncommon for those who have no habit or inclination -to sleep during the morning hours of secular days, to be overcome -with somnolency in church soon after the devotional exercises are -begun, and to find it impossible to derive any edification from them -until they have lost themselves for a moment or two in absolute -unconsciousness. Then they have no difficulty, sometimes a lively -pleasure, in attending to the exercises which follow. The worshiper is -then withdrawn from the familiar excitement of customary avocations. -It is idle to suppose that in these few moments of repose, upright -in his pew, he has rested enough, in the common acceptation of that -word, to repair any waste of tissue that would explain the new sense -of refreshment that ensues. He has received, in that brief retirement -from the world, some reinforcements which manifestly are not dependent -upon time or space for their efficacy—spiritual reinforcements, and -spiritual reinforcements only. He has removed himself, or been removed, -further away, out of sight or hearing or thinking, so to speak, of -his phenomenal life, and nearer to the Source of all life.” This -explanation may or may not be true. He adds: - -“It was quite a common impression among the ancients that sleepers -in temples of religion were more apt to receive divine communications -there than elsewhere.” (“Mystery of Sleep,” John Bigelow, pp. 94-95.) - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -WE LEARN TO DO BY DOING - - Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn. - - YOUNG. - - -Good health and good sleep are so interdependent that it is as -difficult to separate them into cause and effect as to determine -“which came first, the hen or the egg?” If it be true that life may be -wonderfully prolonged as soon as we have learned to avoid disease and -exhaustion, and that we may learn to avoid both by avoiding excess, -then it is as much within our power to live long and well as to sleep -long and well, if we so wish. Senility, the disease of old age, is now -believed to be caused by germs which flourish in the waste matter left -in the system through improper or excessive eating. - -Metchnikoff, the noted bacteriologist, alleges that the large intestine -is the breeding-place of these destructive germs. A Dr. Hall arrived -at the same conclusion earlier and combated his germs with copious -water-flooding of the bowels. So far, Metchnikoff’s experiments point -to the conclusion that lactic acid destroys them. That is why he -recommends the use of pure buttermilk and has invented a tablet that, -dropped into milk, will convert it into a wholesome drink for adult -man. Discoveries and inventions of this sort are of great interest to -all who enjoy and seek to prolong life. But purely physical things -cannot take the place of the mental attitude. The youngest woman of -seventy-nine that I have ever known is one who says, “Tell me more; -I must not get into such a rut that I cannot grow.” No discovery or -invention will do us much good if we allow habit to cramp our thought -and custom to stale it. - -Science may show us how to avoid disease and to prolong life, but, if -we turn a deaf ear to her teaching, we shall get no benefit from it. It -is the alert, open mind that profits from discovery or experience. The -sun may shine with life-giving power, but, if the house be shuttered -and darkened, it will not benefit the dwellers. So with the mind. If -we resolutely shut it against new ideas, if we refuse to take even the -gift of life and health from an unaccustomed hand, then we must expect -to suffer. - -If we would rid ourselves of sleeplessness, of disease, and -dissatisfaction, we must be willing to let go of every habit, every -thought, every feeling that may injure us. To hug them to us is merely -to invite further suffering, to lessen our own vigor and our own -enjoyment. - -Nevertheless, we must hug our habits to us, if we can see or understand -nothing better. No one can help us beyond what we are willing to -receive: anyone can lead a horse to the water, but no one can make him -drink. If the end in view seems to us worth the price we must pay, we -pay it. We have no choice; for our desires push us that way. We often -take credit to ourselves for things for which no credit is due us. -However self-denying an act may seem, it is, after all, the thing we -want most to do, else we would not do it. - -In the same way, if we refuse to profit by the discoveries and -experiments of others, if we prefer to go on in our old way of -suffering, nobody can really prevent us. It is all a matter that we -must decide. This book does not pretend to cure any ill. It intends -merely to show what investigation and experience have proved; to point -to possible ways of escape from the ills with which men now suffer. If -it looks desirable to you, you will only read it; but, until you have -tried it, you cannot say whether it is good or not. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -VAIN REGRETS - - Thou hast been called, O Sleep! the friend of woe; - But ’tis the happy that have called thee so. - - SOUTHEY. - - -Sometimes we lie awake at night to regret some action of our own -because the result has not been what we desired or expected. “John the -Unafraid” says that “if your misfortune is not your own fault, you -have much to be glad of. If it is your own fault you have more to be -glad of, since you can prevent that misfortune from occurring again.” -In either case, therefore, you may follow the advice given so many -years ago, “Rejoice evermore.” At least it is evident that in neither -case need you lose sleep over it: for, according to your light, you did -what seemed to you at the time best for you to do. - -For, to quote Epictetus again, it is not possible “to judge one thing -to be best for me and seek another.” The thing you did, you did because -it seemed best to do that, and to regret now and wish you had done -something else is, in reality, to wish that you had been a different -person from what you were, which is a foolish regret, or, that you had -done something different from what seemed best to do. That would be a -mild form of insanity. You don’t really regret that you were not insane? - -It has no bearing on the case that the outcome has proved that you -were mistaken. You might never have learned that your course was not -best for you or for others, except by doing just as you did. Now you -have that much more knowledge than you had before, and you can use it -to help you another time. A man can’t do any better than he can. You -cannot do more than you _know_, and you only know what you have learned -by experience. The great majority of us learn only in the school of -personal experience; the few wise ones learn some things through the -experience of others, by relating or applying their own experience to -the events in the lives of others. Comparing and reflecting, they come -to see the close relation of act and consequence, and thus recognize -the universal laws in operation. - -Such wisdom may be yours, but it will not come through regretting that -you did not possess it ready-made. Besides, no misfortune, whether we -are ourselves directly responsible for it or not, is ever in vain. -No matter how hard and almost unendurable the “misfortune” may have -seemed at the time, we shall find in looking back that it was no -unmixed evil. The terrible calamity has often been the turning-point -in our lives. It made us pause and think, and, through the thinking, we -have achieved development of which we were otherwise incapable. - -Even when we do not always see this for ourselves, partly because we -are not always good judges of our own development or progress, we see -it plainly in the lives of others. A friend of mine once said to me of -a woman who was doing a tremendous work in the world, “I remember when -she was just a selfish society woman.” “What changed her?” I asked. - -“Oh, she lost her only daughter very suddenly. It was a terrible blow, -and her friends thought she would never recover. But she did, and those -who love her best know that that heavy sorrow was really a blessing -in disguise. Think what she is now!” I smiled appreciatively, for my -friend was herself still smarting from a keen disappointment which she -had not yet recognized as a blessing in disguise. But recognizing it in -another’s life must eventually help her to see it in her own. - -If our misfortune has come from a selfishness that we might have -overcome, and did not, we shall not better matters by wasting time -in regret. “Repentance”—which is the only emotion such a misfortune -should arouse—“is to up and act for righteousness, and forget that -you ever had relations with sin.” Unless we “bring forth fruits meet -for repentance,” our repentance is lost, and we are indeed worse off -than if we had felt none. - -Spinoza, the Jewish philosopher, has spoken almost the last word on the -uselessness of regret. He says: “One might perhaps expect gnawings -of conscience and repentance to help to bring him on the right path, -and might thereupon conclude (as everyone does conclude) that these -affections are good things. Yet when we look at the matter closely, we -shall find that not only are they not good, but on the contrary hurtful -and evil passions. For it is manifest that we can always get along -better by reason and love of truth than by worry of conscience and -remorse.” It is an old Hebrew idea that we should repent in sackcloth -and ashes, making ourselves miserable that we may make God happy. -We forget that love cannot enjoy anyone’s misery. It were indeed a -perverted mind, whether human or divine, that could derive pleasure -from the discomfort or sorrow of another. - -Plants grow better when the sunshine warms them, and human beings -expand and develop under the sunshine of joyous reflection and effort. -If you are losing sleep through dreary or hopeless regret, purge your -mind of such folly, and, after a sound sleep, you will find that things -look brighter. - -There are, of course, exceptions to the rule that sleep brings mental -quiet, for some sorts of nervous sufferers are prone to depression in -the morning, but it is not common among active, healthy persons. They, -like well-nourished children, awake to find each day a fresh delight. - -Dr. M. Allen Starr, the distinguished nerve specialist of New York, -writes me that there are several explanations of the cause of such -depression. He is of the opinion that those who are depressed from -melancholia when they wake in the morning, are probably suffering -from a toxic condition of the blood which originally produced the -melancholia. This toxin, or poison, is resisted by the nervous system -when it is well nourished, but has a greater effect when the nervous -system is poorly nourished. He says that there is a general consensus -of opinion that, during sleep, the blood vessels of the brain are -contracted slightly so that the amount of blood going into the brain -during sleep is less than during the waking hours. This was proved -many years ago by Professor Mosso of Turin, by a series of experiments -which are conclusive. When blood vessels are contracted, and less blood -is going to an organ, the nutrition of that organ is less actively -maintained. Hence, if a person has poison in the system, it is less -restricted during sleep, has a greater opportunity to attack the -nerve-cells, and thus to prevent the nutrition which is essential -to the feeling of general comfort. That is the theory on which we -physicians explain depression on awaking after sleep in melancholia. -What is true of melancholia is probably true also of fatigue conditions -and irregular conditions of health, many of which are dependent upon -the existence in the blood of substances detrimental to health, either -the products of indigestion or the poisons of disease. This theory -explains the conditions in which a person not actively ill may awake -from a sleep in a state of depression. (See Appendix A.) - -Prof. Edward M. Weyer in reading the sheets of this book suggests -another tentative explanation of depression upon waking: if we consider -the nerve cell as stored with energy, then, if the store is maintained -at normal, it is in a healthful state. The supply fluctuates somewhat -during the day, but in the melancholic person it does not rise to -normal even after good sleep: the less amount of carbonic acid gas -eliminated during sleep leaves the system on waking at the mercy of -that poisoned gas and of the chronically low nervous energy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -THE LOVE THAT IS PEACE - - Sweet gate of life, sweet type of death— - Come, Sleep! - - DORA READ GOODALE. - - -Many persons lose sleep because of their love for others, as the lover -who sighs and tosses, dreaming, asleep or awake, of the beloved. The -mother loses sleep thinking of the child with its little worries and -problems, its willfulness or its frail health. There is always some -cause that seems to her reasonable ground for worry. The father, too, -plans for the future of his son, and lies awake to map out a life for -another human being, as if that being were a puppet and his father held -the strings by which it could be moved in his hands. - -Dickens showed the futility of such planning in “Dombey and Son,” and -we have all seen it in actual life. Yet we go on doing as our fathers -did, and suffering, as we say, “because of our love.” It is really -only because we do not understand what love is. - -What we usually call love is largely self-love; that is why we hear so -much of the pangs of love. Love, being the essence of godlikeness, -ought to bring us the joy of the gods, and love would bring only joy if -we could forget ourselves. We understand ourselves so little that we do -not know when our love is self-love. We are always seeking some return -upon our affection, as if it were an investment that must pay dividends -to prove its profitableness. The price of our love is generally the -right to criticise, to influence, to control; or, if we forego these -seeming advantages, we expect at least consideration from those whom -we have blessed with our love. No relation of life seems too sacred to -escape the contamination of the selfish demands of self or narrow love. - -The mother loves her child, cares for it in its helpless years, gladly -risks even her life for it, and yet may be unwilling that that child -shall live its own life, follow its own yearnings, think its own -thoughts. The great stumbling-block of the parent is the unconscious -demand for gratitude, the claim made upon the child of a return for the -effort and affection so freely bestowed. It may be that the parent does -not look for material returns, such as money or position, nevertheless -a price is exacted every time that the parent is surprised, -disappointed, or angered by the child pursuing some course contrary to -his teaching. The love that cared for the helpless child becomes the -tyranny that would control its thoughts and action. - -We say “This is natural,” but we seldom say, even to ourselves, -“This is selfishness.” We would not desire to compel another to think -as we think, if we were not sure that we could not be mistaken. It is -a conceit of ourselves which makes us quick to thrust upon another -“ready-made” opinions because they are our opinions. - -But there is a still more subtle selfishness than this that may be at -the bottom of things. If we have earnestly advocated anything which the -world has been slow to accept, we feel that it is a sort of attack upon -us and our views when our children do not support those views. We say, -“How can we expect others to heed us, if our own children don’t heed -us,” and so we are hurt or angered. We think of their opposition as -disloyalty, and it does not occur to us that it might be no advantage -if others did heed us; that the very opposition of our children may be -the best means of preventing us from doing harm to our fellows. - -Besides, if we cared more that men should see the right and love it, -than that they should heed us, it would not hurt or vex us whether -they listened or not. If we have a message, it will find hearers and -followers. “There can never be one lost good,” says Browning, and, if -what we would teach is good, it will find its own. It is self-love, -not love for others, which makes us sore or angry when they will not -listen. - -It is a narrow love that makes us fail our friends because they have -not fulfilled the ideal we had of them. We never really loved them. We -loved something that we thought they should be, and were unwilling to -find them something different. We get pain out of our relations with -our fellow-beings because our love is not big enough to exclude self. - -We make in our minds a model of what our friends should be, and it -takes up so much room that we cannot accommodate so much as a mental -photograph of what they really are. And just there lies not only the -possibility but the absolute assurance of “disappointment” in them, -and consequent “pain” for ourselves. - -If we knew our friends for what they really are, and were willing that -they should be themselves, we could not possibly be disappointed in -them. We really insist upon our friends being in “our own image and -likeness.” Just so the Hebrews, in the efforts to present God to the -world, made of him simply a man like themselves—big and strong, to be -sure, with sentiments of love and pity and justice, but with a lust of -anger and revenge which almost blotted out his tenderness. Many people -still cling to this idea of God, but they are mostly those whose love -is so full of self that even the Supreme Being must conform to their -standard or they cease to believe in him. - -The “disappointment” that so often follows marriage, even between -the fondest lovers, is mainly caused by this narrow or self-love. Most -married misery is due to each trying to improve the other instead of -himself. “Because I love him,” says the wife, “he should do as I ask -him, but he refuses. He does not love me as I love him. I am almost -broken-hearted with disappointment.” “Any wife who loved her husband -would find it a pleasure to be and to do what he asks. My wife does not -conform to my wishes, but insists upon doing as she herself prefers. -If a man is not the head of his own house, how is happiness possible? -Marriage is indeed a lottery, and I have drawn a blank,” says he. - -But there is one thing certain, if we find ourselves suffering through -our love in any relation of life, whether as husband or wife, mother, -daughter, lover, friend, we may be sure that it is because our love is -not broad enough; because we believe in ownership, or desire gratitude, -or are confident of our wisdom and ability to control the life of -another. In short, that we love self best. “Love suffereth long and -is kind; ... seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no -evil.” The largest love embraces, understands, and forgives everything, -and knows no disappointments and no end. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -THE SPECTER OF DEATH - - -Often we are anxious and sleepless only because we are afraid of what -is not in itself frightful. Like the little child in the picture who -mounts the dark stairs in deadly terror of an imaginary bear, we are -afraid lest we should see a vague something that might terrify us still -more. - -But perhaps there is a real specter in our path? Let us attack the most -terrible foe; having overcome him, we shall find that the lesser ones -have no power over us. - -A man was once walking alone a lonely road on a dark, misty night, -fearing every sound and looking for danger. He had been told that the -road was haunted and this was the terror that possessed him. As he -neared the haunted spot, he saw a white form rise from the earth. It -was barely discernible through the mist as it waved thin arms and made -soft moaning sighs. His hair rose on his head, but his going forward -was imperative, so he took heart of grace, and determined to face his -adversary. - -“Spirit or human,” said he, “I shall settle you before I leave this -place to-night.” With this he dashed forward, and found that it was -merely a slender birch with white under-leaves upturned in the wind, as -the breeze sighed through its branches. - -The rest of the road held no terrors for him. The specter he had most -dreaded proved to be nothing at all. In conquering his first emotion of -fear he had vanquished all terror. - -Maybe we fear the possible death either of ourselves or of some other -dearer than ourselves. Are we afraid of that? Let us look calmly at it. -Changes have taken place, and are even now in progress in our bodies, -yet we do not fear them. For the most part we are even unconscious of -them: a change is not terrible in itself, no matter how great it is. -Death is but another change, one that has not yet come. - -A pious man once appealed in distress to the late Rev. Dr. John Hall: -he said he knew his soul was saved, but he was afraid of dying. Dr. -Hall asked him, “But you are not dying now, are you?” “No,” he -said, “but I know that I must die some day.” “Ah, well!” replied -the doctor, “we hardly need dying grace until our dying day.” “As -our day so shall our strength be”—the bravest soldier may be nervous -contemplating the battle, but in the action he finds not only courage -but exhilaration. So, if we learn to live from day to day, we may well -put off fear of death or dying until our dying day has come, and then -we may find that there is nothing to fear. For the present, what we -have to consider is life, and what it may mean. - -There are two ways of looking at life: one regards life as the changes -that take place in the body from birth to death. The body is always -changing, being almost all renewed at least every seven years. Old hair -is constantly falling out, to be replaced by new; we cut the excess -growth of the nails, and rarely stop to think that the nails we have -to-day are not the same nails we had a few weeks or months ago. We get -rid of dead skin, and our skin constantly renews itself, and so we feel -no worry if we cut or scratch it. We say quite complacently, “Oh! it -will heal up and new skin grow.” The whole body fades and is renewed. -It is not, then, the changes in the body that we fear. - -We accept this series of physical changes as physical life, for we -know that, if the changes stopped, life would stop also; but we must -also recognize them as death, for the beginning of each new stage -is the death of the previous stage. Thus death is steadily going on -in ourselves, at the same time that life continues, and we not only -have no fear of it, but are unconscious of the process: our body is -constantly passing from death to life, as well as from life to death, -and we are not afraid of that; in fact, we never give a thought to it. - -Even from the physical standpoint man need not spend his best years -fearing death. When we live so that death shall round out a long life, -we shall have lost all fear of it. When we say that a person did not -die a “natural death” we usually mean that he died suddenly and -violently. But death from disease is not “natural” either, and in as -far as we learn how to live aright, harmonizing the physical, mental, -and spiritual natures, realizing that the perishing body is not all of -us, we can avoid most of the fruitful sources of disease. As we learn -what true life is, and how natural the eventual dissolution of the body -is, we shall cease to tremble at it. - -Metchnikoff, the eminent philosopher and student who has devoted years -of study and research to the life and death of man, says: “When -diseases are suppressed, and the course of life regulated by scientific -hygiene, it is probable that death will come only at extreme old age. -When death comes in its natural place at the end of the normal cycle of -the physical life, it will be robbed of its terrors, and be accepted -gratefully as any other part of the cycle of life.” He thinks, in fact, -that the instinct of life may be replaced by an instinct of death. -“It is even possible,” he says, “that the approach of natural death -is one of the most pleasant sensations in the world.” Perhaps the most -striking evidence of the truth of this so far recorded is the case of -Brillat-Savarin’s aunt—who, at ninety-three, said to her famous nephew, -“If you ever reach my age you will find that one wants to die just -as one wants to sleep.” All of us know of cases where the very aged, -having lived their lives to the best of their perceptions, awaited -death willingly and almost joyfully. As Browning says, “Thou waitedst -age; wait death, nor be afraid.” Fear of the approach of death disturbs -us because we feel further possibilities of life. We do not want to -be cut off in the flower of our existence; we think of death, not as -a change of existence, but as the end of it, and we think there is no -sure way of avoiding that. All of us have felt the truth of Dickens’ -idea of the bells which toll almost gladly for the aged, but seem to -weep when the young die. We are sure we should not fear death, nor be -unwilling to die if we had the privilege of living to a “ripe old -age.” For time is not measured by the clock or by the calendar; those -measure only the revolutions of the earth and of the sun. Time is -measured by thought and act, and, more than all, by feeling. And we can -ordinarily prolong our own lives to the time when we shall willingly -and gladly lay them down. - -This willingness is by no means the same feeling that prompts the -useless and unmeaning exclamation, “Oh, I wish I were dead!” The -average person gets into such an unreasoning state over every little -happening that he cannot see any connection between the events in his -daily life. He becomes discouraged, and thinks for the moment that he -would like to quit it all. No matter how many years such an one has -lived, he has not attained a “ripe old age.” Ripeness has no part -in petty impatience; it implies mellowness, soundness, and general -wholesomeness of character. - -As man is learning more and more about his life, he is finding that -sickness, premature old age, and untimely death are, in a large -measure, due to his own misunderstanding of the purposes of life. It is -this misunderstanding that gives the mysterious air to life. We fear -the mysterious, for our ingrained habit of regarding things that we do -not yet understand as insoluble mysteries is a relic of the days when -savage man found mystery and danger in everything. - -So, if we are making ourselves unhappy, losing sleep, and suffering -physical and mental distress because of the possible approach of death, -we may dismiss that cause of worry. As soon as we begin to consider the -purposes of life and our relation to them, we shall naturally avoid -excesses in eating; live as hygienically as possible; harbor cleanly, -uplifting thoughts, helpful to others and to ourselves, and so reach -out spiritually for a fuller understanding of the purposes of all life. -And what we cease to fear for ourselves, we soon cease to fear for our -other selves. - -Living thus, we shall not fear death, but shall move toward it without -thinking of it, knowing that it is natural, merely the long sleep of -the objective consciousness. - - - Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet! - Nothing comes to thee new or strange. - Sleep full of rest from head to feet; - Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. - - TENNYSON. - - O’er each vain eye oblivious pinions wave, - And quench’d existence crouches in a grave. - What better name may Slumber’s bed become? - Night’s Sepulcher, the universal Home, - Where Weakness, Strength, Vice, Virtue, sunk supine, - Alike in naked helplessness recline; - Glad for a while to heave unconscious breath, - Yet wake to wrestle with the dread of death, - And shun, though day but dawns on ills increased, - That Sleep, the loveliest, since it dreams the least. - - BYRON. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -A NATURAL CHANGE - - -Through generations, perhaps for hundreds of thousands of years, custom -has ordained grief for the dead, we have come to feel that it is a -proof of affection or of sensitiveness or a sort of virtue: we indulge -in the luxury of woe, we nurse our grief until, like a spoiled lap-dog, -it becomes a burden. But we know that the unselfish dead would only be -distressed at our grieving. - -When we look upon the change called death as no more mysterious than -any of the other changes in our bodily or mental development, which we -either welcome or are unconscious of, we shall lose our terror of it -either for ourselves or for others. - -Our terror for others is not really for those others so much as -for ourselves. The sense of “our great loss” is really a piece of -selfishness. For life cannot mean one thing for us and another for our -brother; as we see our own lives, so must we see the lives of those we -love. The purposes of life are the same for all men, for all men are in -the plan of the Spirit. - -If for any reason our brother has passed from our earthly cognizance, -we cannot say that we have really lost him. It is true that we do -not see him with our eyes or touch him with our hands, but we have a -remembrance of him in the form of a mental picture down to the minutest -details of how he looked and moved, and we also have a remembrance of -his spiritual character. - -For the character—that sum of the abilities of those we love—remains -with us after the physical form has passed away. We are affected by it -just as we were when the loved one lived. We can feel the appeal that -that character makes to us, its effect upon our thoughts and actions, -as strongly as if the absent one stood beside us and claimed our -attention. How, then, can we say he is lost? - -The dead whom we have loved hold us as securely as they did when they -were living; it is only that we do not see how. It has come within the -experience of many that the death of father, mother, or some dearly -loved one has led to the awakening of some wayward or misguided one who -seemed to be wasting all the opportunities of life. We know that it -was not the mere death which worked this seeming miracle. That simply -woke the dormant love in the one who had hitherto desired only his own -way. As soon as he became conscious of his love for the beloved one who -has passed out of his earthly life, he longed to be what his beloved -would have had him be, and so he turned his attention to using the -opportunities of life, to the end that he might grow and develop. Thus -in death the loved one held the wayward friend even more securely than -he ever had in life. - -We shall not fear death, even for those we love, when we have realized -that it is but a passing from life to life—just as the falling leaves -do not mean the annihilation of the life of the tree, but merely the -end of one phase of that life. Somewhere, some time, that which was -really our loved one will blossom again in the world’s experience, -and even now is continuing to live through its influence upon our -lives. “There is no death; what seems so is transition.” The bodily -companionship with all that it implies, that we have lost: yet, if our -beloved had gone to be Viceroy of India, we should miss him, but we -should not put on mourning for that, nor “grieve” that we had lost his -companionship. - -“But we could write and hear from him and so keep in touch with him.” -True: it is then for your own loss that you mourn. - -Nearly all the suffering that death causes us is for ourselves. It -is our feeling of helplessness, the emptiness of the earth that is -left, the changed world that we look at in the sleepless hours of the -night, or, when we awake in the morning, our pity for our own loss -and the seeming uselessness of what remains of our existence. This -consciousness of our loss numbs us so that we cannot get a realizing -sense of the joys of the spirit set free from the limitations of the -body. Our love is still so earthy that it demands fleshly as well as -spiritual communion. - -So real is our suffering when those we love best are torn from us that -for a time we are inconsolable. Philosophy, religion, the affectionate -ministrations of those about us, avail not to bind up the broken heart. -There is but one cure for such grief—to minister to others. Unselfish -devotion to a great cause—the cause of our fellows, whether in the mass -or individually—is a sovereign balm for a bleeding heart. - -When we understand life we know this, for we have learned that neither -in joy nor in sorrow can any man live to himself. Action of any sort -relieves tension and suffering. If we bottle up all our sympathy for -ourselves, it becomes so tainted with selfishness and narrowness that -it loses its healing qualities. But if we let that sympathy go out -freely to others, forgetting our “personal” needs, it blesses them and -blesses us. - -A friend of mine lost a son and daughter by drowning, just as they -had entered young manhood and womanhood, and for a time his grief -threatened to crush him. He found no relief until he had his attention -called to the sorrow of another who, through a train wreck, had lost -his only child. Although a stranger to this stricken father, he sought -him out and, because of his own double loss, was able to comfort him -as no one else could. Moreover, the restlessness went out of his own -heart; he realized his kinship with all sufferers as never before. - -There is a story in “The Light of Asia” that Buddha, to comfort a -mother broken-hearted over the death of her only child, sent her to get -black mustard seed from a house where death had never been. The mother -carried her dead babe about the village, and in each house she was -offered mustard seed, but each giver said, “Death has been here.” At -last she realized that she was not the only sufferer, that death was a -necessary accompaniment of life as shadow is a necessary accompaniment -of light. Her grief, she saw, was but a part of the common sorrow. The -recognition that either joy or sorrow is common to all increases the -healing sense of unity, it is a “touch of nature” that “makes the -whole world kin.” There is no wrong in our grieving, if it comforts us: -but to look thus each for himself dispassionately at the cause and the -nature of his grief, will surely give so clear a view of it that it -will no longer deprive us of sleep. - -Then why lose sleep worrying about what we know to be merely a change? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -THE DISTRUST OF LIFE - - Come Sleep, O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, - The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe: - The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, - Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low. - - SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. - - -If there is no cause to fear death, even when one views life as purely -physical, there is still less cause to fear it when one holds the -second possible view of what life is—the view that life is the Unseen -Consciousness and is within one’s self. These are two opposing views; -it is only when we try to combine them that we find ourselves filled -with fears. When we reason about our bodily life, thinking of ourselves -as animals, and apply the conclusions to our lives as men, we find -confusion, uncertainty, and fear: for our minds reach conclusions that -our hearts tell us cannot be true. - -What man fears is not death—_as an animal_ he does not know or see -death. As long as a man is mainly animal he suffers only as an animal. -The deer that flees before the dogs is not afraid of death, for it is -not possible that it could conceive of death: that is possible only -to the reflecting and comparing mind. He fears the suffering that must -follow from an attack from creatures of superior strength and fierce -appetites. So man fears that his animal existence, which he does -know,—with all its changes,—may be painfully cut off. As a rational -being, man knows that death is only a natural and never-ending change. -He knows that life is only that which he recognizes as humanness in -himself when he meditates upon it. He says to himself, “I feel my -life, not as I have been or as I shall be, but I feel it thus: that -I am, that I never began anywhere, that I shall never end anywhere.” -According to this view, death does not exist. - -His animal view of life, as the changes in his body, differs so much -from the spiritual view of life as Unseen Consciousness, that he cannot -reconcile them. They lead to “warring in his members,” a conflict -between the limitations of the mind and the intuitions of the soul. -This causes fear. - -There is, of course, a merely physical shrinking from death, the result -of race inheritance. In the early days of our race, before man had -learned to control the forces of material life, those men or races of -men that did not love life, feared death and avoided it, made less -effort, and took less care of their lives, and, accordingly, soon -ceased to exist. Only the hardy survived. The fear of death helped to -preserve the race. - -But this inherited shrinking from death is not what tortures man. What -causes the uneasiness is rather that superstitious fear of death, -which is really fear of a life after the throes of death. We have -made this present life so unreasonable and so inconsistent with our -own nature that we feel as if any life after death must be just as -incomprehensible and inconsistent as this one, so we fear it. We fail -to see that all life goes on developing and improving, and so we think -our future life may be much worse than what we have now; then, like -Hamlet, we ask is it really “better to endure the ills we have than -fly to others that we know not of?” Because we hold these two views -of life, the animal’s view and the spirit’s view, we seem to hear two -voices crying in our hearts when we consider things: the voice of the -Body and the voice of the Soul. The Body says, “I shall cease to be, -I shall die, all that I set my life in shall die.” The Soul cries, -“I am, I cannot die, I ought not to die,” and, as if from still deeper -depths, comes an appalling whisper, “Yet I am dying.” (Tolstoy.) - -It is because of this contradiction that terror seizes the mind when -we think of the death of the flesh. Man has so long assumed that his -fleshly life is the same as himself that he cannot easily rid himself -of the idea. Yet, if a man lose a hand or an arm or a leg by accident, -he does not think that part of his consciousness or self is gone. He -knows that a part of his body—through which himself is made manifest -to other men—is gone, but he does not for a moment think that he, the -human being, is any less. And he is not. - -It is true that the automatic processes of his mind refuse for some -time to accept the loss of the members of his body, he misses that way -of expressing his will. But that is not so strange as it may at first -seem. All voluntary motion arises from desire, and is sent out from the -directing mind by means of the nerves to the part of the body fitted to -perform that motion. We are not conscious of sending an order to any -nerve center when we wish to put one foot before the other in walking -or to use our fingers in writing. - -Yet such an order is given, and the desire and the nerve center have -both learned from repeated experiences just how properly to direct that -message to the foot or to the tips of the fingers. If, for any reason, -we miscalculate, we find ourselves walking haltingly or stumblingly -along; or our fingers do not move the pencil fairly so as to get the -right results. So, too, when we have lost a foot or a hand, the nerve -centers send out their messages with the same force as before, but -the messages find no way of being delivered. But at no time does a -man think that he is less himself because of the missing member. For -myself and my body are not one and the same. _Myself_ is that which -lives in my body, and neither that body nor the years it exists in any -way determine the life of myself. This self of mine, which thinks and -feels, is older than recorded time; why, then, should we think that -it will end with the century? It would not be possible, within the -few years that the body exists, for the intelligence or consciousness -of the individual to begin at nothingness and attain the degree of -development of a human being. - -This self or consciousness is really the outcome of the impressions, -experiences, and conclusions of my ancestors for thousands upon -thousands of years back, and this self began to be shaped even by that -from which man sprang. It is continuous; just as it began before my -body was formed, so it must go on after the body ceases to exist; it -cannot be a mere part of the body which will change with it or end with -it. - -We do not know, as yet, how we shall continue to live after the body is -laid away: whether in the thoughts and feelings and deeds we have done -in the flesh; or in our unending, though unconscious, influence; or in -the lives of the children of our bodies or of our minds and hearts. -But we do know that the world will never be the same as if we had never -been here. We do know that what has existed through unnumbered ages -will not end in this. - -Life does not cease with sleep nor end with death. “I never was not,” -says the Bhagavad Gita, “nor shall I hereafter cease to be.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -REST AND SLEEP - - O Happy Sleep! that bear’st upon thy breast - The blood-red poppy of enchanting rest. - - ADA LOUISE MARTIN. - - -One of the main purposes of sleep is to secure rest to men. But -intelligence will find rest in many other ways independent of sleep or -of promoting sleep. We are just beginning, under the leadership of such -people as Miss Eva Vescelius, to make a full use of music as a soother -of the nerves: yet, as long ago as the time of David, some persons knew -its value. Browning’s magnificent poem, “Saul,” recounts its force. - -As David exorcised Saul’s evil spirit by the skillful harp and voice, -so those who are studying the therapeutics of music are now helping -the physically and mentally ill. Miss Vescelius and those working with -her claim that “music is capable of great life-awakening energy.... -The use of music for healing the sick is therefore a natural use of a -natural power. Music, like medicine, has been divided into classes as -stimulants, sedatives, and narcotics. It is now admitted that music -can be so employed as to exercise a distinct psychological influence -upon the mind, the nerve centers and the circulatory system, and that -by the intelligent use of music many ills may be cured.” For almost all -of us “music hath charms to soothe.” Others again find in some form of -massage a sweet though artificial sedative; some even in the combing -of the hair, which is possibly connected with an electric effect, for -we know little definitely as yet of the principles of the possible -curative force of electricity. - -Others again rest by a mere mental change in their ordinary avocations. -My wife was once talking with Mr. Stiegler, a well-known riding teacher -in New York, and he said that he was in the saddle every day from six -or seven in the morning till eleven at night, with only short intervals -for meals. “It’s a hard life,” he said. - -“But Sundays?” the lady asked. - -“Oh, Sundays! I have Sundays to myself.” “And what do you do on -Sundays?” “Oh!” he said, “I take a ride in the Park.” The relief from -the strain of watching the pupils and their horses was rest to him. - -When Weston had won his first six days’ walk in Madison Square Garden, -he went out to take a walk on Fifth Avenue on the Sunday. - -To find harmony with our own natures, to act in accordance with our -natural or acquired tendencies, is rest. A peaceful surrounding is rest -in itself, though sleep may not be wooed. One may be rested by a walk -in a country lane, when a walk in the bustle of Broadway would only -tire him the more. - -And this peaceful surrounding may be interior just as well as exterior. -Mrs. Elizabeth Burns Ferm, who has a playhouse for children on the -East Side in New York, and does a great deal of other work, recently -said: “I could never accomplish what I do if I did not sleep so well. -That rests me completely. I do not dream nor stir. I drop into the -homogeneous, forgetting myself and becoming just a part of life. In -this way I rest.” The oldest books show that, ever since there have -been any records of man, he has been seeking happiness and rest, yet he -has not attained either happiness or rest. But the seeking has helped -in his growth upward and progress has been his reward. As Browning says: - - “Progress is man’s distinguishing mark alone; - Not God’s; not the beasts’: He is; they are; - Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.” - -Even though man seeks in wrong directions, he is sure to move onward -so long as he continues to seek, for, if we sufficiently desire any -goal, we shall eventually find it. “What d’ye lack? quoth God,” -says Emerson, “take it and pay the price.” Jesus put the same thing -in another form. Said he, “Ask and it shall be given you; seek and -ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.” Those who -misunderstand life and its purposes apply this only to what are called -religious matters, but those who see farther into life know that it -applies in every way. It all depends upon what we feel that we lack. If -we feel we lack pleasure, or happiness, or rest, we seek them along the -lines we think they may be found. And we pay the price that is asked. -We cannot avoid this so long as cause and effect follow each other. - -If we seek happiness through selfish gratifications, we pay the price -of disappointment and pain, if we are at all enlightened. Of course, if -a man lives the life of the animal merely, cutting himself off from any -recognition of the claims of his fellows, he may get all the happiness -he can understand through self-seeking. But the price he pays is that -he is not able to understand or to appreciate more than this lesser -happiness. As Walter Scott says: - - “For him no minstrel raptures swell. - Proud though his title, high his fame, - Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; - Despite those titles, power and pelf, - The wretch, concentered all in self, - Living shall forfeit fair renown, - And, doubly dying, shall go down - To the vile dust from whence he sprung, - Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.” - -This is the price he pays. - -If we seek happiness through the happiness of all; if we forget self, -understanding that all are One, seeking that wisdom which comes only -from seeing all life as one, we, in like measure, get the reward. - -Men, mere animal men, who understand nothing but self-seeking, may -speak evil of us, they probably will, but even that cannot “hurt” us. -We shall understand that such evil speaking is the best they know, and -that, therefore, it is not evil to their minds. Moreover, the further -premium to us will be a broader understanding, a deepening love, an -increase of happiness, an influx of peace, a pervading sense of rest, -and quiet sleep. - -This is a premium most of us would be willing to work for, did we but -see it. And we may see it if we will. If we ask of life that we get -into harmony with its purposes; if we seek diligently even into our own -hearts for those purposes; if we knock at the door of man’s full life, -we shall find our asking answered, our search rewarded, and the door -wide open. What a man desireth most, that, somehow, somewhere, shall be -gain. Desire creates function. - -And, when the soul has gained what it sought, we shall find beauties -and virtues hitherto unsuspected in every human being; we shall learn -that, above the turmoil and noise of our rushing, jarring, modern -civilization, we can hear the morning stars sing together for joy, the -music of the spheres, that which shall yet soothe man’s fear and teach -him to find restful sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -THE NEED OF REST - - The bliss of an unbroken sleep. - - THOS. W. PARSONS. - - -To go in the wrong direction delays our journey and brings fatigue, but -that fatigue may teach us needed lessons. - -Man seeks happiness through outer things, hoping to find it in wealth, -excitement, travel, self-gratification, and in countless other ways -that the age-long experience of men have proved to be ineffectual; but -he usually forgets that the wellspring of happiness is within. Long -before Solomon had announced that “this also is vanity and vexation -of spirit,” men had observed that riches do not bring happiness; -that excitement wearies us, that travel is unsatisfying, and that -gratification of the senses ends in exhaustion. - -At last, in despair of satisfaction in the world, we have accepted -the teaching that there is no rest on this side of the grave. We have -even learned to glorify strain and the strenuous life as natural -and desirable. At best, men have thought of rest as something that -concerned the body, and have confounded it with sleep and inaction. - -If we think we have important work to do, we say, “We have no time -to rest,” as if any work would be laid upon us that ought to prevent -us having rest. Draught horses have been bred for centuries for the -sole purpose of work, yet a wise driver never overloads nor overworks -his horse. He sees that it is comfortably housed, well fed, and has -its needed rest. Shall we think that the Spirit of Life has less -consideration for man than man has for the horse? That were in effect -to say that man were greater and wiser than that which caused man, and -which man has spent the ages trying to understand. - -When we stop to think of this we can see how foolish it is, but we -seldom stop to think until something “happens” that stops us. We go -on from day to day thinking that we have no time to rest. This state -of mind, which leads to trouble, is possible only because we do not -understand what rest is, nor how easy it is to have it. We ordinarily -seek rest only after we have become exhausted. - -When we have wearied ourselves with worry, useless exertion, and -fretting, or with envy, hatred, or malice; when we have bent all our -energies to some low aim or selfish purpose; when we have broken nearly -all of Nature’s laws and are called upon to pay the penalty, we seek -a physician. A man sets a shifting standard of wealth as his goal, -and strains to attain it; he eats improperly and in great haste, his -thoughts filled with the problems of the market; he is forever on the -alert for any advantage that he may take of his fellows; he cannot -endure to have another reap an advantage that is denied him; he is -envious of every bit of success that, passing him by, goes to another; -he makes of his life one fierce round of money-getting. Then, perhaps -before attaining his goal, perhaps after reaching it, he discovers -himself a physical wreck, and hastens to his physician, seeking -external means to cure that which has its root in internal conditions; -asking the man of drugs to “minister to a mind diseased.” To the -nervous, worried, hurried person, from whatever cause, the physician’s -advice is generally the same—“Take a complete rest,” meaning thereby -that all work be given up and inaction take the place of activity. When -circumstances allow it, we try to follow this advice, but it usually -results in boredom and impatience at the lost time; when circumstances -do not allow the inactivity, we get discouraged and complain of life -as a series of mysterious, unjust happenings. The physician’s advice -proves a mockery and we become listless and discouraged. - -We hardly ever seek our rest from moment to moment; for we continue -to look upon it as something we shall find after our work is done. The -laborer, the merchant, and the professional man think of the end of -the day as resting-time, just as the busy housewife does. It matters -not how much we may love our work, we expect to be exhausted by our -efforts before the day is over. We feel hurried, anxious, fretted, and -overworked all day long, and comfort ourselves with the prospect of -rest at night. And all the time we might rest and never find the day so -short as to cause worry, nor the hours so long nor the work so hard as -to tire us. - -It is only when we are burdened with distracting cares that we get -tired by what is a joy to us. The true artist wants no eight-hour day; -he laments only that daylight fades so soon. When we are doing only -what we love to do, and doing it well, we run and are not weary, we -walk and do not faint. - -Of late years the trainers of athletes have recognized this—they think -it more important to keep the men buoyant and fresh than to increase -the muscles at the risk of bringing them “stale” to the day of -contest. They insist that the men shall not exhaust themselves at any -time before the race. - -Exhaustion shows either that we have been doing the wrong thing or -doing it wrong, and kindly Nature reproves us with the loss of Sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -SAVING OF EFFORT - - Rocked in the cradle of the deep - I lay me down in peace to sleep. - - EMMA WILLARD. - - -The unsatisfied longing for rest in all mankind will be attributed to -different causes according to the way we look at life. The physical or -animal man desires rest because of the relief it will bring to nerves -and muscles wearied by the strain of activities; he feels that to relax -will bring him some ease and that relaxation will help him to forget -the bodily weariness. Recovering from weariness or pain is a pleasure -in itself. The sigh of relief is really a sigh of pleasure. - -When the mind reigns, it instinctively recognizes that rest would -restore the balance disturbed by feverish exertions. Our whole lives -seem passed in a struggle to attain something, and the law of rhythm, -which is the law of action and reaction, requires that, after struggle, -effort should cease. One implies the other; neither effort nor true -rest can continue steadily. Effort is the breaking of rest; shadow is -only the relative absence of light. - -It is contrast that makes sensations; the shadow serves to make the -light brighter; the night makes the day more fair; and noon makes the -night darker. Tennyson recognized this in the line, “Sorrow’s crown of -sorrow is remembering happier things.” He might have said, with equal -truth, that the present joy has a warmer flush because of forgotten -pain. - -Wagner understood that, and so we find crash and seeming inharmony -so often a prelude to the softest, tenderest strains. The mind first -wearies of monotony, even of harmony, and then ceases to be able to -perceive it. Wagner saw this, and introduced clashing sound that -seems like discord until we feel its connection with the emotion and -the context of the piece. These relieve the emotions and throw the -harmonies into relief. Says Hobbes: to have one sensation and to have -it continually would be to have none. - -The mental man feels and knows all this, and to him rest becomes -necessary to restore that balance of things that contrast suggests—rest -after effort, peace after turmoil. - -The spiritual man goes still deeper into true conditions in his longing -for rest. Rest carries with it the idea of attainment. He who has -attained has peace: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto -you.” The unity of all three desires—that of the body, that of the -mind, and that of the spirit—cannot fail to strike the thinker. To -cease to strain is the keynote of ease. Why? Because man sees, however -dimly, that agonizing, like antagonizing, is really futile, and that -the only thing that is necessary is to put one’s self in harmony with -the Universe. - -Herbert Spencer has shown that grace of movement consists in the -economy of effort, in doing every act with the least possible waste -of power. The same thought is the basis of the teaching of the great -Delsarte. As Ruskin says: “Is not the evidence of ease on the very -front of all the greatest works in existence? Do they not say plainly -to us, not ‘there has been a great effort here,’ but ‘there has been -a great power here’? It is not the weariness of mortality, but the -strength of divinity, which we have to recognize in all things; and -this is just what we now never recognize, but think that we shall do -great things by the help of iron bars and perspiration. Alas! we shall -do nothing that way, but lose some pounds of our own weight.” The best -way to attain anything is to move towards it with the least possible -jarring or friction. In every struggle we lose force, because we are -sure to make unnecessary motions. Men do not learn this from their -daily work as unconsciously as they once did, because machinery has -so largely displaced handwork. But, even in using machinery, he is the -best workman who has learned to run his machine and get good results -with the least expenditure of physical effort. Such a workman remains -fresh for a longer period, and accomplishes more in a given time. The -machine itself is constructed upon the principle of saving effort—it -cuts out all unnecessary motion and reduces friction as much as -possible. - -If you watch a skilled typesetter at his case, you will find that -apparently he is never in a rush. The beginner, especially if he is one -of the more nervous type, looks anxious, pauses with hand fluttering -above the case while he considers in which box he will find the letter -he seeks; then, when he has made a decision, he will pounce upon it -and deposit it in the stick with breathless haste. Not so the seasoned -compositor. There is no haste, no fluttering, no waste motion. His hand -goes unerringly to the box where he will find the letter he wants, in -a twinkling it is in place in the stick, and another letter disposed -of in the same way, and you are scarcely conscious of motion. The -perfect workman is he who has learned to accomplish most with the least -expenditure of effort. It is toward this perfection that Frederick -W. Taylor and others are striving in the new “Business Efficiency.” -Every day we are surprised to learn that what _we_ gained by hard -struggle has been gained with scarcely an effort by another. It does -not always make us happy to learn it. We often feel as if we had been -tricked, and we think that effort spent in what we now see was not the -most effective way, was wasted. This leads us sometimes to persist in a -mistaken course, because we are unwilling to believe that we have lost -so much time and missed so much result. But no effort is ever wasted: -it is only by the effort to do well that we can learn to do better. - -Nothing is commoner than to hear our friends say, “I don’t sleep—the -work is so hard and exacting I get dead tired and then toss about -all night.” But it is not the work, rather it is the worker that is -exacting. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -ANTAGONISM - - Lord of the Darkness, Master of the Sun, - Strip me of all my strenuous life has won, - But let Sleep’s sweet oblivion o’er me sweep, - Closing Night’s leering eyes—oh, give me sleep! - - ANONYMOUS. - - -Though you want rest, peace, sleep—the opposites of strife—yet people -will oppose you and want you to go their impossible ways. That need -not arouse opposition, nor break your rest, nor disturb the even tenor -of your way. One disadvantage of allowing ourselves to be disturbed is -that we cannot be angry with one person without being angry with all -about us. Or at least the harmony of our relation is broken, because, -despite our effort, we cannot succeed in separating ourselves from our -brothers. The next time you are angry or impatient with someone who has -opposed you, take note how it affects your tone and your feeling toward -those who are innocent of any offense. - -One such investigation into our own condition when annoyed will help -to cure us of being angry; for there is no use in trying to correct -all the mistakes or worrying over the neglects of others, even of the -children of our own bodies. Other people, “the same as us,” have to -learn by their mistakes, and often do learn by some success that we -considered manifestly impossible. - -As we could not be wisdom and conscience to the whole world, Providence -has kindly given us enough to do in taking care of our own actions. - -When Mosenthal was organist at Calvary Church, the brides used to give -him directions about just what pieces they wanted played at their -weddings; Mosenthal would say, “Ah! that is a beautiful selection,” -or “A magnificent march!” As he said, “I listen to all the lovely -ladies’ orders—then I play what I think best—and it always goes all -right.” He did not make rows by trying to convince excited girls -that the “Mikado” would not be just the thing for the church, or -to persuade nice mammas without musical education that “Traumerei” -would not do for a wedding. It was not necessary to lie, only to give -what approval could be given and then to “gae his ain gait.” Most -people are not really much set in their own ways, they only seem to -be. They have an idea (or they think they have one—an idea is a rare -and precious possession) and they want to “get it off.” Let them; why -should you make the explosion dangerous by confining it? Maybe they -were only trying to argue with themselves, and, having got rid of the -idea, they are content, if their self-love is not roused in defense of -it. Like the codfish which deposits her eggs and has no more care about -them, they are quite content to leave the results to Nature. - -There was a tract called the “Oiled Feather,” which was very popular -in England forty years ago. Sam, a wagoner, has a bottle of oil with -a feather stuck in the cork, and, when a barn-door sticks or harness -creaks or a king-bolt binds, instead of using force, he always brings -out his oil bottle and feather. His friend has not learned the -usefulness of gentle methods and gets into all sorts of trouble, until -he sees that the Oiled Feather principle applies to horses and to -people and to difficulties, as well as to things. - -“Est modus in rebus”—which means that “there is a way in things” just -as much as in people: get into key with it and all will go smoothly. -Did you ever try to split trap-rock with a hammer? You may batter all -day at one side and you will only knock off chips, spoil your hammer, -and hurt your hands: but, when you have found the right spot, a tap -knocks it in pieces. That tap is the “open sesame” to which alone the -stone will yield. You may storm at it all day with your “open millet” -or “open wheat,” but its heart can be reached only by its own word. So -the stony heart of the world can be broken only by the Master Word of -Love. - -Now, if you have made what is said in Chapter XXVII your own, you do -not need all this; for you know that, as long as you arouse antagonism -in others, you can be annoyed and irritated by others, but not one -moment longer. The punching-bag can neither dent nor be dented: if it -is so made that it injures no one, it turns out that no one injures it, -no matter how roughly he strikes it. - -When your lovelight shines in darkness, not only will your own path be -bright, but you will be a guide and a comforter to others, and they -will follow you. - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -STRUGGLE IN THE FAMILY - - How happy is that balm to wretches, sleep! - - BEAUMONT. - - -If all that we have learned were that some persons “naturally” work -harder than others to achieve anything, we might say that this was -unavoidable; and there would be a degree of truth in it. It is true -that the intelligence of some people is so sluggish that they learn -little from experience. They continue to work towards any end in the -same way that they have always worked, wasting both strength and time. -For them there is nothing but repeated experiences and patient guidance -until they learn to apply their knowledge practically. - -But the intelligent man learns that, often where he has worked in -the hardest possible way, he has had the most unsatisfactory return -for his effort. The good housekeeper, for instance, wishes above all -things to make her family comfortable; she has inherited a feeling of -the requirements of healthy living, and decides that she must have a -scrupulously clean house to protect her loved ones from the dangers of -germs and microbes. - -So she sweeps, scrubs, cleans from morning until night; carefully -removes every trace of dust, follows her family with dust-pan and -brush, and at least looks reproachfully at the offender who does not -remove every trace of street or garden dirt from his shoes before -entering the house. She cleans so hard that she forgets that the real -object of cleaning is to make her family safe and comfortable. They may -be safe, but they are a long way from being comfortable, and she knows -no more comfort than they; cleanliness has become a fetich with her, -and some day, perhaps, she comes to her senses, finding herself chasing -the motes in a sunbeam, lest by chance they should rest upon her sacred -furniture. - -If she then sits down to take stock of things, she finds that husband -and children almost dread to come home. However serene and happy they -may be before reaching the garden gate, or the apartment door, they -then become nervous and distrait. They look themselves over, to be -sure that nothing is amiss, for “mother is so particular.” An anxious -expression settles upon their faces, for, with their best endeavors, -they may have overlooked something that mother’s trained and suspicious -eye may note. The joy of life abates, and a sort of painful hush falls -upon things. - -The average child cannot see that this condition grows out of -misdirected love and care; he sees no connection between it and his -well-being, but, if he thinks of it at all, he concludes that “the -house” counts for more with mother than anything else. Husband and -children unconsciously come to regard her as mainly a housekeeper, with -interests bounded by the four walls of the home. The very gifts they -make her are of a useful nature—“something for the house”—as if the -“house” were some special thing in her personal life but meant nothing -to them. - -When the hungry heart of this woman pains her, she resents the -condition that she herself has created, but does not see the correct -remedy. Her husband and children have put her out of their inner lives; -they take their pleasures away from home, they find their confidantes -among outside friends. Who should share their thoughts and their -pleasures? she asks. Who has worked day and night for their comfort -and happiness as she has? And the chances are that she considers them -ungrateful and herself a martyr, when all the time she herself builds -the barrier between them and herself by striving to make them happy -in her way. That it is not their way, and so could not be in harmony -with the natural trend of things, does not once occur to her. As the -French say, “Madam costs herself too much.” She has not learned, and -may never learn, that the only way to make others happy is to love them -sincerely and unselfishly enough to allow them to be happy in their -own way. - -Sometimes it is the father who destroys the joy of home. A many good -men think that their duty is done when they provide food, clothes, -shelter, and education for their children, and insist upon obedience -from them. They are so busy attending to these things that they have no -time to get acquainted with their children, to know or be known by them. - -There is too much truth in the newspaper joke on the suburbanite. A -mother found her little boy crying bitterly on the doorstep quite early -on a Monday morning. - -“What is the matter, Freddie?” she asked, anxiously. - -“Why,” sobbed the child, “I was just running down the street when the -man who stops here on Sundays spanked me and sent me home.” There are -many children who have no cause to welcome “the man who stops here on -Sundays,” even though he may be counted “a good father.” Very often -he “takes a nap,” and all noise must cease for his benefit; or, he -cannot read his Sunday paper while they are playing about. He speaks -testily to his wife, blaming her that she does not quiet the children. -“They have all the week to play,” he complains, “I should think they -could keep quiet on Sunday. It is the only day I have to rest, and you -ought to see that I am not disturbed.” And the mother, who hasn’t even -Sunday to rest, quiets the children in the only way she knows, and -everybody is wretched. - -As fast as the children grow up they leave home gladly for college -or business, and, though they respect and fear “the Head of the -Family,” they have no real love for him; they never consult him on -their intimate, personal worries or problems, and he many times carries -a sore heart behind his seemingly stern manner. He wonders why his -children are so ungrateful, when he has spent his whole life toiling -for them. In his bitter moments he may even call them monsters of -ingratitude; forgetting, as Dickens says, that he is really looking for -“monsters of gratitude.” These parents, like everyone else, have it in -their power to attract to themselves the affection and the surroundings -that they need, and to create a center of repose even in the midst of -strife; rest we may attain even amid turmoil; but true repose means -that quiet shall spread from us to others. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI - -UNNATURAL LAWS - - So many Gods, so many creeds, - So many paths that wind and wind, - When just the art of being kind - Is all this sad world needs. - - ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. - - -But the harmony of the home does not depend upon the parents alone. If -it did, it would forever disprove the statement that it is only by a -working together of all parts of any organization that its real purpose -may be accomplished. A clock is intended to tell the time, and its -mechanism is so constructed that, by its working together, the hands -and chime will mark the hours. But, if we could imagine the hands of -the clock refusing to move in the direction that the springs, wheels, -and pendulum required, and insisting upon going their own way, the -usefulness of the clock would be destroyed. - -So, in the matter of family harmony, it may be merely some self-willed -son or daughter, even a child, that causes the discord. And he is not -necessarily a “bad” child, either. He may be endowed with special -gifts, and be particularly adapted to give joy to those about him. He -loves his parents, his brothers and sisters, and also that intangible -“home” that counts for so much in life—yet, because he loves his “own -way” more than all else, he makes “home” impossible. He is so sure -of his infallible judgment that he opposes every suggestion that does -not come from himself; he offers free advice on every possible and -impossible occasion; he “takes sides” on every question that arises, -and considers any opposition as a personal attack or affront. He is -not conscious of these or of any other faults, yet every remark, every -act is tested by its possible reference to himself. He looms so large -in his own foreground that he cannot see how he could be unimportant -to anybody’s life or thought. He broods over fancied wrongs and thinks -himself the most ill-used of mortals. Everybody is unhappy where he is, -and he is most unhappy of all. - -For it is a well-established fact, one which we may find proved every -day both in our own experience and the experience of other people, -that he who makes another unhappy generally makes himself still more -wretched. - -If our experience shows us any exceptions to this rule, it is, after -all, only in seeming. He who can make another unhappy and not be -conscious of it, is among those whom Epictetus calls blind in that -knowledge which distinguisheth right from wrong. He has not felt his -close relation, or, indeed, any relation to his fellows. He cannot -know any of the joys of fellowship, and he will not find the pleasure -he expects even in his own pursuits. For it matters little, so far as -seeing is concerned, whether a man be born blind, or whether he keeps -his eyes tightly bandaged all his days. In either case he gets none of -the sensations of pleasure that come from being able and willing to -see. If we persist in having “our own way,” we must pay the price. -Most of the miseries of life are caused by failure to get in harmony -with the laws of life. This is as simple and self-evident as walking up -the street. If we persist in keeping to the left on a busy sidewalk, -we shall be jostled and pushed until we are sore and out of breath and -make but little headway withal. But, if we are careful to walk with -the crowd going in our direction, if we remember always to keep to the -right, we shall find it easy to get along even at the “rush” hour. -Those who do not observe this rule of harmonious progress not only find -walking on a busy street hard work, but they also make it harder for -others. One man walking the wrong way may compel twenty more to violate -the sidewalk customs to overcome his opposition. But, when everyone -observes the rule, it leads to a saving of time and temper and makes -life safer for all who are in the crowd. - -Generally speaking, we recognize no law but that of our own will, which -is by no means the same thing as the far-wider law of our being. We -cannot separate our lives from the greater life. While we follow the -law of our own will, self-will, we never know real happiness or rest. -Like many another man-made law, our antagonistic wills are a perversion -of the natural law which governs our lives. - - -SLEEP’S CONQUEST - - Invisible armies come, we know not whence, - And like a still, insinuating tide - Encompass us about on every side, - Imprisoning each weary outpost sense, - Till thought is taken, sleeping in his tents! - Yet now the conquerer with lofty pride - Becomes our guardian, with us doth abide - And plans all night our wondrous recompense. - He takes away the weary, worn-out day, - And brings to-morrow—bride without a stain; - Gives us fresh liberty, a chance to mend; - Life, hope, and friends enhanced with fresh array. - Then when we fail he conquers us again, - Paroling us each day until the end. - - CHARLES H. CRANDALL. - -(Courtesy of Harper & Brothers.) - - - - -CHAPTER XLII - -THE NATURAL LAW - - -But what is the law of our being? It is harmony, peace, rest. We have -but to look at the workings of our own marvelous physical bodies to -perceive that law. The more we study the human body, the more we wonder -at its mechanism. Yet every part of this intricate machinery, in -harmony with each other part, finds its own work, unless man, through -his misunderstanding, throws it out of order. - -Perhaps the strongest proof of the naturally harmonious working of the -body is found in the responsive distress or disease which result from -the wrong use of any one function. It is not necessary to cut the heart -itself to injure it. To sever an artery anywhere will interfere with -the perfection of the heart’s work as effectively as a direct injury to -the heart. To bring bad news may stop its action forever. - -It is not necessary to strike the head to cause a headache; that will -follow if we abuse the stomach, or live so that the liver becomes -deranged. We get these results because of the perfect harmony in which -all the parts of the body work when we conform to the law of our -being. The pain is a kindly monitor, warning us that we have violated -some law and bidding us get into line once more. It is always wise to -heed such warning, gratefully. - -Suppose that a man has a cellar which is so dark and damp and dirty -that he hates to go into it, and tries to forget it. But it is flooded -in a storm, and he is forced to go down to examine it, and then finds -that the wall is unsafe, and must be supported, else the house may -fall. Will he not say, “It was well that the flood came that took me -down into the depths, so that I might find what was endangering my -property and the lives of my family?” And if, in addition, he not only -reinforces and buttresses the wall, but also lets in the light and -cleans up the cellar, he will actually remove out of his life what was -always a disagreeable and neglected task. He will add to the value of -his property, and have besides a security in his house that he would -never have had but for the “accident.” So we, if we heed the first -pain that tells us we have violated the law of harmony in our physical -body, may be led into a better and truer understanding of ourselves -than ever before. - -If the law of the physical body is harmony, peace, rest, it must be -true that the law of the intelligence and the law of the spirit are the -same. If it were not so, there would be constant warring between the -three natures—physical, intellectual, and emotional—and happiness and -rest would be impossible. - -Harmony, peace, rest are the blessings that all men crave, even when -they do not understand their own desires. To say that peace and rest -are inherently impossible of attainment is to say that we are formed -with desires that tantalize and torment us, as a mirage tantalizes the -traveler dying of thirst in the desert, with no hope of satisfying -those desires. It is in effect to say that a cruel monster governs this -world and takes delight in our suffering. - -He who tries with apparent disregard of harmony to enforce his own will -is, after all, striving in his blind and hopeless way for harmony. -He thinks that to make his will supreme would bring peace, and so he -tries to have his own way: that accounts for much tyranny, especially -domestic tyranny. - -That so few do attain happiness and rest in their lives is because of -this misunderstanding of life rather than from any inability to gain -happiness and rest. We allow trifles to distract us from our real -purpose. We feel ourselves so pressed and oppressed by petty cares that -we cannot find time during the day to do all that we feel we must do. -It would be well for us to follow Pitt’s rule, to do our part in the -world instead of trying to run it. - -If that rule worked in his high and responsible position, it would -probably work in our less important places. Most of us spend our -strength for that which is naught, largely because we do not examine -the nature of the “duty” which presents itself to us. We should -probably find that our duties are not worth doing, or else that another -could do them as well. - -Rest brings sleep more than sleep brings rest. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII - -“LETTING GO” - - In sleep’s sweet fetters bound. - - LORD NEAVES. - - -A frequent cause of suffering among men and women is their idea -that they are necessary to the running of things. Usually they find -themselves mistaken. The head of a firm was once warned by a physician -that he must take a rest to avert a breakdown, but the man declared -it to be an impossibility for him to get away from the office for -even a week. He gripped his business so tight that he could not let -go, nor could he see that others could do it as well as he could. In -such a state of mind the doctor’s warning added another worry, fear -for himself,—so at last the predicted breakdown came. He had reached -the point where he had to let go, for his grip, both physical and -mental, was gone. For six months he could not concern himself with -business affairs, the necessity of fighting for life and renewed health -occupying all his faculties. He refused to let himself think of the -outcome, but put his attention upon getting well. - -When he returned to his business, with his mind braced to stand any -disasters that he might discover, he was astonished to find everything -in perfect condition, and that his assistant had even corrected the -errors he had himself made in the last weeks of overworked body and -fagged brain. It was at first a blow to his pride that he was not -essential to the success of his own business, but, as he realized how -big a price he had paid to learn this simple lesson, he made a decision -that showed how far he had advanced beyond his former condition. - -Turning to his assistant, he said: “Smith, as you can carry on this -business so well, I shall take three months’ vacation every year, and -have no more expensive breakdowns; and, as I want you to continue -to carry it on as well while I am away, you would better take three -months’ vacation every year, too, so there shall be no breakdowns for -you.” He had really learned two lessons in one—what things were not -worth doing, and what things could be done by somebody else. He still -had left “the things that were quite enough for any man to attempt.” -No man is really indispensable to any undertaking, however much it may -seem so to him. When James Alexander controlled the Equitable Life -Assurance Society, he made it his rule to discharge anybody who seemed -to be indispensable. His reason for this was that, the longer such a -man was retained, the more indispensable he would become, until the -association would be in danger of going to smash if anything happened -to that one man. Common prudence dictated the advisability of getting -rid of him while the company could manage to get along somehow without -him. - -There was once a Dutchman who was of much the same opinion as Mr. -Alexander. His manager applied for an increase of salary. - -“I t’ink I buys you bretty dear, alretty, Hans.” “Yes,” said Hans, -“I get a good salary, but then I am worth it. I know everything and do -everything about the business; in fact, you couldn’t get along without -me.” “Ach, ish dot so? Vell; vat I do if you vas deat, Hans?” “Oh, -well! if I were dead, you’d have to get along without me.” “Ach!” -replied the Dutchman, slowly, “den, Hans, I t’inks we gonsiders you -deat.” It is well to think sometimes of how nicely the world got along -before we came to it, and how likely it is to do just as well after we -have left it. If, when we are rushing around, weighed down by anxiety -and a feeling of our own importance, we should “consider ourselves -dead” for a few moments, we might find that the fever of life had -subsided. - -We should have to admit that, judging from the past, the world would -not even slip a cog if we were to pass from it. And even if we were -ready to claim that no one heretofore had been so important, and no -one could ever again be so necessary, even then it were the part of -wisdom to cease hurrying and worrying. For, as the human frame can be -exhausted by overwork and overworry, it behooves the indispensable -person to preserve himself as long as possible, so as to save the world -from the catastrophe of his loss. The very thing he aims to do—save the -world—he defeats by his anxiety and haste. - -Proper prudence tends to prevent trouble, not to prevent worry. No -amount of precaution and care will cure worry. In fact, the prudence -and care help to fix the thought on all the mischances, however -improbable or impossible, that may be imagined. - -Elaborate precautions often defeat themselves, like a corporal who kept -all his squad out as pickets till they were cut off one by one. - -I once saw a family going off to the country, five “masters” and -three servants, eight hand-packages, coachman, footman, and an extra -servant, and the family doctor to get them off. The cautious doctor got -the tickets days before, and even got checks for the trunks. An extra -trunk, taken at the last hour to hold some extra things that might be -needed, upset all that arranging. - -The doctor went to the baggage-room in the gray dawn to get that -precautionary trunk checked: after a long discussion about the -place, he arranged to meet the family at the railway news-stand. The -caretaker was shown once more how to work the burglar alarm, from -which a necessary knob came off in the nervous hand of the Master of -Cares—“telephone for the electrician” but at last the blinds were -carefully pulled down, the house shut up and committed to Providence -and the caretaker, and the family and its familiars arrived at the -station nearly an hour before train-time, “getting off so nicely.” The -Genius of Forethought sent out a pair of scouts to find the doctor. -They returned, to report that there were three news-stands, but the -doctor was not at any of them. - -Then this Genius of Care went himself with one of the scouts, a long -and hurried walk to the baggage-room,—not there. - -Meanwhile, the doctor, who had stayed to see the trunks off, had found -the main body with its camp-followers and light baggage. All stood -in the station near a news-stand and waited for the return of the -expedition, till the doctor got impatient as train-time approached and -went off to find the Head of the House, who arrived in a flurry, having -lost his own head a few minutes after he had gone with the tickets. - -At last, after the pilgrimage from the ticket-gate down to the -parlor-car, they are in the train, all safe, thank God; but the Genius -of Care did not sleep that night “on account of the worry and fuss -of getting off.” That was not the doctor’s fault. Like Martha, he had -made his own punishment the same as the rest of us by being “_careful_ -about many things.” I remember an Irish servant who was shown one of -our big banks with its huge window-bars, to make it safe. “Sure,” -she said, “what’s the good of them things? The thieves is inside and -not out.” Worry is inside and not out, and Sleep, like the Kingdom of -Heaven, is not taken by force. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV - -REST IN TRUTH - - The timely dew of sleep. - - MILTON. - - -It is not our work that wears us, but the way we take it. So long as -we think of rest as meaning only inactivity, just so long will the -activities of life exhaust us. Goethe said: - - “Rest is not quitting the busy career, - Rest is fitting oneself for one’s sphere.” - -When we do that, we find rest. But we may ask what is one’s sphere and -how may one fit one’s self for it? If we wish to answer that truly, -we must be willing to have some common misconceptions brushed away. -The sphere of any individual is limited only by the possibilities of -his own body, mind, and spirit. Our sphere is not a small circle of -activities whose boundaries any man may mark. It widens as our inner -nature expands, and what was the horizon line yesterday will be but -a tiny hillock near at hand to-morrow. It includes all that has been -achieved, and all that may be attained by the race. - -The best standard of our life is not only what the race as a whole -has achieved in the way of development, but the highest and best that -any person has yet taught or lived; this is the true measure of man’s -sphere to-day. Ordinarily, we talk of man’s sphere and woman’s sphere -as if there were a clear line of separation between them, and each were -continued in its own little space. This could not be, for, so long as -men and women have the same three natures—bodily, mental, spiritual—so -long as we have similar needs, aims, and aspirations, the larger sphere -of man, whether male or female, is the same, and is bounded only by the -possibilities of the life of all three natures. - -To fit one’s self for such a sphere should bring rest while we are -doing it, because that fitting means becoming harmonious with the -purposes of the larger life; and rest is simply harmony, at-one-ness -with the Universe. - -The possibilities of the life of all three natures are inexhaustible. -We have never touched the limit of even the physical man. Man at one -time had only his hands for tools, and so was limited in his powers. -But he used his mind to increase the power of his hands, and reached -out for sticks and stones to help him. In time his thought devised -implements that increased his physical power a thousandfold, until now -he has harnessed not only steam, but the very currents of the air, and -is making himself all-powerful. - -He does not wholly understand the forces he tries to control, but he -studies them, experiments upon them, and makes servants of them as far -as he has grasped their laws. Had he insisted upon considering his mind -and his physical powers as entirely separate and refused to use them -together, he might still have claws for hands, and might still be a -mere burrower in the earth. Moreover, his mind would not have developed -as it has. Steam and electricity might have aroused his curiosity, but -he would not have known how to make them to do his will. - -Further, if man had been able to keep his intellect apart from his -spirit, he would not have developed the qualities that lift him above -the more intelligent animals. Sympathy and justice and love would not -have come into his relations with his fellow-men. - -These moral feelings expressed in our bodies, our minds, and our hearts -are some of the possibilities of the life of all three natures, and -to endeavor to know and harmonize them, thus “fitting one’s self for -one’s sphere,” would bring us the happiness that follows action and the -rest that flows from selfless purpose or harmony. - -If we consider what the true object of life is, we cannot help trying -to see the connection between the three natures of man. It does not -seem possible that the life of any thinking being was intended to be a -purposeless jarring jumble, or, as poor Stephen Blackpool said, “a’ a -muddle.” We find such harmony in the life of the material world that -we may expect to find a similar harmony in the life of man. So soon as -we discover this, we see also that there must be harmony between the -life of the material world and the life of man, and further harmony -between both the material and the human life, and the Source of all -life. Seeing this, and living it, is fitting ourselves for our sphere, -preparing ourselves to take our destined places in the Universe as Men -and Women. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV - -THE SPAN OF LIFE - - We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life - Is rounded with a sleep. - - SHAKESPEARE. - - -Only a generation ago it was the custom for men and women to begin -to grow old at about forty-five. A person of fifty was always called -“old,” and a man was expected to be decrepit at sixty, a woman much -earlier. It is not wonderful that such men begrudged the time spent in -sleep. - -When I was a boy, we used shamelessly to print books in big type, -indorsed “For the Aged,” on the theory that everyone must be nearly -blind at maturity. Even now Dr. George F. Stevens thinks that everyone -“ought” to wear glasses after forty, notwithstanding that many -Christian Scientists and Mental Scientists discard them long after that -age. - -There is as much truth as wit in the saying that “A man is as old as -he feels, a woman as old as she says she is.” We used to insist upon -every year being counted and noted, too, in dress, occupation, and -general demeanor. But we have changed all this—even natty dress now -common to older people shows it—but the change has come about slowly, -and there are still many who think that people of sixty should give -up all active life and prepare to “grow old gracefully,” that is, to -drop willingly into senility. Those who are willing so to slip into -uselessness quietly, need much sleep; but even for them the sleep is -not a waste of time, but an aid to length of days. - -There has been a great deal too much willingness to let go of active -life, because of the idea that “threescore years and ten” was the -natural limit of man’s life, and that to live beyond seventy-five was -to live upon “borrowed time.” There is a sort of tickle for the mental -palate in that expression “borrowed time,” but there is no substance -in it, if we will but examine it. How can there be “borrowed” time and -from whom is it borrowed? - -Life is not a thing that begins to-day and ends to-morrow. So far as -we know, it has neither beginning nor end. It is beyond our power to -picture a limit to all life. Well, if life has neither beginning nor -end, if it has no limits, and if time is merely the unit by which we -measure seasons, why should there be a limit to what we can use of it, -and how could a continued use of it be called “borrowing”? - -In the earlier days of the race, when all progress was made through -might, and war settled every question, when a man’s “work” meant -chasing over the hills, when men fared hard, and knew little of Nature; -when fear was the supreme emotion—it is probable that seventy years -represented a long life. To escape all the chances of death from -accident and ignorance for so long a time was an achievement, and, in -this way, doubtless, seventy years came to be regarded as the natural -period of man’s physical existence. - -But with our increasing knowledge, with the extension of means for -making life easier, with our conquest of Nature, there is no excuse for -limiting ourselves or our fellows to the same short span. Consequently -man’s life began to extend over a longer and longer period as the risks -of living were diminished by civilization. War became a less common -condition; the very inventions for making war more destructive of life -helped to make people consider whether disputes could not be more -wisely settled. The next step was a natural outcome of that reasoning. -The latest wars have had more casualties and less fatalities; partly -because the effort has been to incapacitate the fighting-men rather -than to kill them off. We have begun to see dimly, at least, that the -taking of life does not settle any question. This leads to a greater -respect for life, and from respect to preservation is an easy step. - -The intelligent man to-day does not make his whole life a mere struggle -to exist for his “allotted span.” Rather, he aims to preserve and -prolong his life by exertion and, even more, by repose. He has learned -that, while it is true that “not enjoyment and not sorrow is our -destined end or way,” yet to enjoy, in the sense of understanding life -and living, is to live so that “each to-morrow find us farther than -to-day.” To enjoy life is to use it wisely; to get the most out of it -that will make for happiness and development. It will not help to that -end to worry or lose sleep, because man’s span of life is short. Love -with your whole heart, and live according to reason, and you will win -the prize of sleep, and happiness and length of days shall be added -thereunto. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI - -WASTE STEAM - - -If there is one thing more than another for which Americans are noted, -it is “nervous energy.” To this we attribute our notable achievements -in science, industry, and literature. To this energy, also, or rather -to the misuse of it, may be attributed the dyspepsia, the nervous -headaches, the general “breakdowns,” and the suicides so much more -prevalent of late years. - -An abundant supply of nervous energy is one of the blessings of life, -it denotes almost unlimited capacity for work and enjoyment. It is the -steam that drives the engine; and which, under the control of a skilled -engineer, pulls the train upgrade as well as on the level. It is only -through ignorance or carelessness that the engine is allowed to run -wild, and destroys that which it was meant to convey safely. - -So with the people who “go to pieces nervously.” There has been an -unskilled hand on the lever. Through ignorance or carelessness, the -nervous energy has been badly handled, and the force that should convey -us safely through life has caused our destruction. We should be as -careful with our minds as with our machines. - -When we find ourselves getting nervous and worried, sleepless, “blue,” -or dyspeptic; or showing any of the numerous signs of misdirected -energy, such as short temper or headaches, we should take a day off -to examine the engine. It is time well spent, as we may thereby learn -something that will avert a complete breakdown. - -If we find that we are not overeating, overworking, or overworrying; -not feeling animosity, nor suffering from an excessive idea of personal -importance—if, in fact, there are no fears gnawing our heartstrings nor -any other large and well-defined cause of trouble, we may well look -closer for small causes. “The foxes—the little foxes that spoil the -vines.” - -There are often disturbing causes that we fail to notice as disturbing. -For instance, disorder about us, the habit of stirring everything up -and throwing everything around when we set to work. The confusion -communicates itself to our feelings, besides which the uncertainty as -to where we have put what we want next upsets our nerves. - -It is a good plan, when we find ourselves “rattled” or not working -easily, to stop and clear things up, put everything in order. It is -marvelous how often that will smooth out the creases both in face and -temper and make the world look pleasant again. - -If that itself proves to be a certain strain or an annoyance, leave the -whole thing and go out for a while, or take a nap, or even smoke, if -you do not feel that smoking hurts you. Anything that will distract the -attention from the seemingly annoying circumstances will relieve the -pressure on overwrought nerves and allow the system to regain its poise. - -At this point it will sometimes serve to put into practice the rule -that William Pitt, Prime Minister of Great Britain, laid down for -himself: When overwhelmed with official duties, he divided his work -into three parts—that which was not worth doing, that which would do -itself, and that which was quite enough for any man to attempt. Make a -list of all the things you have to do, then go over that list and make -it into three. Pick out first the things that could be left undone, -because not really worth the effort they require. Having settled them, -you will find your load already lightened. - -Next select those things that you want to do, but which somebody else -could do just as well. Make that list carefully. It is the hardest -one of the three. It is comparatively easy to decide that a thing we -may wish to do is not worth the effort it will cost, but it is quite -another matter to admit that somebody else could do those things just -as well. - -And there is a reason for this feeling apart from mere ordinary -conceit, although it may only be a more subtle form of -conceit—self-approbativeness, as the phrenologists call it. It has its -rise in our belief that, while our way of doing that particular thing -may be no better than another’s way, yet it is “different,” and we -long to see the result of that different way. Nevertheless, it may be -that the best good of all concerned requires that somebody else do that -thing, and our nervous restlessness is merely a warning for us to omit -doing it ourselves. - -Then, in the things left on the original list, we shall find all that -one person should undertake, and we shall do them with a zest and ease -that could not have been ours working in any other way. For myself, -when all else fails, and none of these devices does away with the -feeling of being pushed by my work, I close my desk and go for a walk. -If soothed, I return in an hour or two and take up my work easily; -otherwise, I leave it all until another day; it saves time in the end. -Circumstances prevent many persons from doing that: but we can do it, -in greater or less degree, far oftener than we think. - -It is always advisable to stop long enough to find out what is the -matter. If a good engineer finds his engine running hard, he examines -it to finds the trouble. If your watch goes irregularly, you take it -to an expert to find the cause of irregularity. Why should we be less -careful with our minds? - -What is needed is simply obedience to the laws of Nature that we know, -but the case may be one for the physical culturist, for the mental -therapeutist, for the moral teacher, or even for the alienist. Where -common sense fails or is wanting, we should consult an expert before it -is too late. (See Appendix A.) - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII - -UNDERSTANDING - - Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber; - Thou hast no figures and no fantasies, - Which busy care draws in the brains of men; - Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. - - SHAKESPEARE. - - -All unrest and uneasiness, all impatience and disharmony are due to -some misunderstanding of life and its unity, of its unchanging and -unchangeable laws. Froebel’s recognition of this principle created his -idea of education as growth by exercise, the greatest definition of -training that has yet been given to the world. He says that education -consists in relating the individual life to the external life, the -inner to the outer, or, in other words, it consists in getting the -individual into harmony with the whole of life. - -This is the substance of the doctrine of all the great thinkers of the -world, the essential oneness in the teachings of all the philosophers -of every race and of all the ages. Each gives expression to the special -side of this oneness that presented itself most strongly to him, but -on the plan of life they agree. - -Although many of the followers of these great teachers have been able -to see the beauty of their conceptions, few have been able to transmit -them as pure and bright as they received them. It is by no means easy -to avoid interpreting what we hear in a merely personal way. Seldom -do the “hearers of the Word” have the humility “of the broken and -empty vessel,” so well expressed in a hymn at one time popular among -revivalists: - - “Empty, that He might fill me - As forth to His service I go; - Broken, that so unhindered - His life through me might flow.” - -Instead of that, we have tried to make the truth fit our ideas of -“personal” life, when we should have made our “personal” life fit the -truth. - -One cannot conceive of the Universe growing weary, of infinity becoming -exhausted, because material science has shown us that harmonious -laws govern all life. Scientists have been able to state laws that -experience has shown to be unfailingly true. For example, take the -heavenly bodies: through the study and comparison of their motions, -astronomers have stated laws that apply to all that is known of them, -and which illustrate the perfection of the solar system. To-day, if -some asteroid is discovered which seems to move in opposition to known -laws, no one supposes that the laws are wrong. So impossible is any -haphazard occurrence in the solar system that astronomers know that -any disturbance simply shows some existence or activity not hitherto -observed. They do not doubt the unchangeable universal nature of the -laws; but they recognize that only lack of knowledge prevents our -understanding the relation of what we see to the laws that govern it, -and they bend every effort to the solution of the mystery. - -If we but look upon the occurrences of human life with the same -confidence, there is no cause for worry and uneasiness. Why should -man chafe? Because of those who do ill? “Fret not thyself because of -evildoers,” for they, too, have their uses. Every man is in the plan -of God. It may be that he is here simply to show us something that -we should not otherwise have seen. Had not someone done the ill and -made the results known, many men might have made like mistakes and the -consequences have been much worse than they are. Says Ernest Crosby: - - “I thank the kind round-shouldered men - And treat them with respect - For teaching me to raise my chin - And hold myself erect.” - -No man can tell how much more he owes to the things that he would -have made different had he shaped his own life, than to the things he -regards as good. - -Most advances that we accomplish are forced upon us by circumstances -with which we are discontented, and our happiness consists in -recognizing that there is, in effect, no such thing as misfortune. -There is no chance in the world: everything is the result of Energy; -nothing ever happens by accident. I said once to a woman standing -beside the coffin of her husband, trying to comfort her and trying -to teach myself, “You know, this did not happen by chance.” “No,” -she said, “I know that; if one chance got loose, it would wreck the -world.” So it would. - -You toss up a coin and it seems to you to be chance whether it comes -down heads or tails. It isn’t chance at all. If one thing happened by -chance, you would know that it was the end of natural law. Suppose -that the thing to be tossed were an iron plate, ten feet across by two -feet thick, then the engineer could figure out just how many pounds of -powder would turn it once and how many would turn it twice or three -times; and, if you told him when he had adjusted his charge that it -was chance which side would come up, he would say that you did not -understand dynamics. He knows that there is no chance about it; that -the number of turns depends exactly upon the amount of force, and how -it is applied. So it is with the tossing of the penny; it may seem to -be chance to us because we cannot measure or perceive the causes, but -its fall is as directly and fixedly due to causes as the sinking of an -ocean-liner. - -It is not likely that Charles Dickens would have chosen the hard -childhood he had if he could have arranged his own life, but there is -little room to doubt that much of his understanding and sympathy, much -of the power that made him the novelist of the masses, was due to those -experiences. Even though he may never have seen during his life how -necessary those experiences were, nor accepted them philosophically, -that did not alter their use. The work of the “evildoers” in giving -Socrates hemlock to drink did not destroy Socrates’ usefulness; the -death by the cross did not check the spread of the good news the -Nazarene brought to man. - -Men have always stoned the prophets and killed those who would bring -deliverance. This is an expression of the conservatism which is the -balance-wheel of the race: if it were not for that, the leaders of the -people would get so far in advance as to be clear out of sight. But the -prophecies have been fulfilled, and, step by step, deliverance has been -won. Moreover, whom one generation destroyed, succeeding generations -have honored; it is impossible to get the rear rank in line with the -vanguard. But wherein has evil triumphed or the law of good been set -aside? - -In the study of history we see the persistent progress of the race. -However slow the march, it has always been from darkness into light, -from low aims and small ideas to higher purposes and larger thoughts. -Each nation has contributed something to the sum of that progress. Not -only have they had glimpses at their best of better things, but even at -their worst they have caused other nations to see and avoid like errors -or cruelties. In this way the civilized and the savage have both helped -to advance civilization. And, if the blind works of evildoers do not -triumph over the plans of Good, if they do not even hinder the working -of the law of universal Good, why should we fret ourselves because of -them? - -But the unrest may be caused by our lack of that worldly success which -we think would bring us happiness. Of course, if the real desire be -worldly success, and there is no other way in which we can learn that -it will not bring happiness, then we must attain worldly success. -To-day, this demands a resolute will, concentration, a steady nerve, -and a lack of human sympathy. It is difficult for us to see this in our -own case when we make worldly success our aim, but, if we examine the -career of any “successful” man, we shall see how true it is. - -Nothing is truer of modern business life than that the success of one -involves the failure or seeming failure of many. We have but to look -around at the few who are acclaimed by the world as successful business -men and the many who toil for a bare subsistence, to find the proof -of this. To succeed, a man must first resolve to succeed, and must -concentrate all his powers to that end. He must have iron nerves so -that unexpected good-or ill-fortune may not upset him, and he must so -steel his heart that he may not see the needs or hear the groans of his -suffering fellows, if to hear or heed would interfere with his purpose. - -After men have attained worldly success, they sometimes give liberally -to charity and public purposes. Nobody has yet revealed how much of -that giving is atonement for the half-remembered times when some heart -was hardened, some ear deafened, and some hand tight closed against the -cry of the needy. Some rich men unhappily become so hard of heart, so -bound by the habit of refusing, that giving becomes an impossibility. - -Now worry and unrest upset the nerve, disturb the concentration, and -keep alive at least one phase of human sympathy—that which we call -irritation. We do not usually regard irritation as an expression of -sympathy, but that is just what it is. Irritation towards our fellows -is an indication that we cannot rid ourselves of the knowledge that -they have claims upon us. It is an evidence that we do not understand -them, or that we are not in harmony with them. That may be because -their aims are so different from ours that they are a standing rebuke -to our selfishness, or because their aims are so similar to ours that -they become a threat to us. In either event they are forced upon our -attention, and we are unable to forget them. We are not able to crush -them ruthlessly if they stand in our way, for to do so causes us pain -and dissatisfaction, and prevents our joy in our success. Sometimes, -when the pain and dissatisfaction become keen enough, they may even -turn us from our purpose, and thus destroy our chance of worldly -success. - -Thus worry and unrest defeat the very thing we are aiming at, and -leave us out of harmony with the laws governing the accomplishment -of our purpose. Even in business and in matters of health, that rest -which comes from a cool, steady purpose, undisturbed by fretfulness or -impatience, is the main factor of success. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII - -THE SUPERSTITION OF FEAR - - Fear of Death thus dies in senseless sleep. - - BEAUMONT. - - -Primitive man feared thunder, and, being unable to explain it, made a -god of it, offered sacrifices to it in the hope of averting the harm it -might do. Fear has perverted many religions. What man feared he first -crouched before in helpless terror, and afterwards knelt before in -wonder and worship. In the early days of the race he looked upon every -new or strange thing with terror, because he did not understand its -connection with the things he knew. - -Man first knew himself as a physical creature with certain needs and -cravings that must be gratified if he were to live at all. He did not -at first realize that the presence of another person would make life -easier and more secure for him; rather, he feared that every other -would injure him. Later, as men formed themselves into groups, clans -and tribes, each recognized the interests of the immediate group as of -supreme importance, but feared the other groups. This was the origin -of “Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the -land.” Those families that obeyed their natural leader, the patriarch, -held together and survived; the others were separated and destroyed. -The early records of the Jews are scarcely more than a chronicle of -the wars of a coherent race against various other tribes inhabiting -that part of Asia, together with the lessons to be drawn from its -experience. Even in the vast new continent of America, different tribes -of Indians roving its plains looked upon other tribes with distrust -and hatred, and made war upon them. There was plenty of land; animal -life abounded; there was nothing in the aims and pursuits of one tribe -that was necessarily injurious to any other, yet apprehension and the -superstition of enmity kept them apart. - -The world has not yet got rid of this old superstition. In this modern -Christian era there is scarcely a civilized nation which does not -keep itself in readiness to attack its neighbor. All the peace the -nations yet know is an armed peace, so that even when we cry, “Peace, -peace!” we know “there is no peace,” because man does not yet trust -his fellowman. He is fearful of him, not only as encroaching upon his -actual territory, but he resents his competition even in the making of -the tools and goods that civilized life demands. - -We erect tariff walls, that the people of other countries may not -easily sell to us the goods they make, forgetting that, even without -those walls, they could not sell their goods to us, if we did not want -them. For, in free buying and selling, the desire must be mutual, else -there will be no exchange. - -In all the relations of the most modern civilized society the effect of -this distrust, of one toward another, is plain to be seen. Even those -who devote their lives to preaching the doctrine of the gentle Nazarene -do not always grasp the full significance of that doctrine. The city -of Toledo, Ohio, is blessed with a mayor who has lost all distrust in -man (or perhaps he never learned it) and, in his efforts to administer -civic affairs on a basis of love and understanding, he is finding his -strongest opponents in some of the preachers of the community. Such is -the blinding effect of misunderstanding the unity of all life. - -It cannot, therefore, be a matter of surprise to the student of -present-day affairs that his ancestors were slow to learn about other -groups what their still earlier ancestors had learned of individuals. -As the circle of man’s interests enlarged, including more and more -fellow-creatures, he began to come more and more into harmonious -relations with the Universe. Out of his personal experience he began -to perceive the mutual interests and the underlying oneness of human -life, and, through that perception, some have now begun to realize the -oneness of all life. - -This is the road along which man must travel to reach harmony, and -harmony is rest. It is living in accord with the universal law which -regulates the growth and development of all things as well as their -activities. To the undeveloped savage the whole material universe, so -far as he could see it, was a jumble of inharmonious and unrelated -things—he saw no relation between the different bodies in the heavens -as they circled in their orbits; each created thing seemed to have its -separate existence, which had to be maintained without regard to any -other form of life. But science has shown us that the heavenly bodies, -however huge or remote, are all parts of one great system, under one -perfect law. We know now that, instead of the earth being the center of -the universe, round which all the stars, suns, moons, and other bodies -revolve, it is itself but a tiny unit in a tremendous system of systems. - -All of these bodies have been circling in their orbits for untold -millions of years, unaffected by the fact that no man knew of them. -It is not too much to expect that they will continue to perform their -circlings according to those same laws even after science has taught us -all it is possible to discover. Man may profit from his knowledge of -universal laws, but he cannot alter them. - -And yet the man of average intelligence even to-day feels that things -universal in relation to humanity and its needs are at “sixes and -sevens,” and that his anxiety and feverish activity are needed to alter -or better them. He still sees men as separate beings with interests -that clash. - -It is this failure to understand that every life is bound up for good -with all other lives which leads us to worry about our “personal” -affairs, and thus to miss the rest that clear understanding would -bring. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX - -IMAGINARY FEARS - - O soft embalmer of the still midnight. - - KEATS. - - -When we learn to confine our attention to “the things that are quite -enough for any man to attempt,” we shall find that there is little real -ground for worry or fretting in our daily life. It is a fact that, -if our work wearies or exhausts us, either we are doing the wrong -thing or else doing it in the wrong way. For the Spirit of Life is -no taskmaster. It is we who make this world a daily grind. It is not -naturally a “vale of tears” nor a “wilderness of woe.” - - “Joy upon joy and gain upon gain - Are the destined rights of my birth,” - -and we may all have those rights if we claim them as our own. Worry -is a disease that some people enjoy as much as some others enjoy -invalidism. There are some people who can hardly speak and think of -anything but their physical ailments; they never recall the mornings -when they felt strong and vigorous, the nights they slept soundly, but -only the days when they had uncomfortable sensations of weakness or -distress, and the nights when sleep was somewhat broken. And you will -notice that they will say they “did not sleep well” when they mean -that they did not sleep much. We may always sleep _well_, even though -we do not sleep much. - -There are other people who, though they do not weary us with accounts -of their bodily symptoms, tell us always of their cares. They revel in -tales of distress which shall go to show how much more oppressed they -are than their fellows. They take their worries as the healthy farmer -takes his food, eagerly, and would be distinctly upset if anything -happened to interfere with their enjoyment of them. If they are going -somewhere, they worry lest it should rain, or lest something unforeseen -should happen to prevent the expedition. It is the same old story, they -want their “own way.” They cannot conceive of a disappointment being a -blessing in disguise; they know of nothing so hard to be borne as the -setting aside of a passing desire. - -For such as these life is full of “bitter disappointments”; cares and -worries naturally fall to their lot; the sun seldom shines for them, -and even when it does they think they can note the spots upon it,—while -the rain falls so heavily and so frequently that it makes runnels over -their whole plan of life, reducing it to a scene of desolation. And all -the time the sun is shining, and joys are awaiting them did they but -look in the right direction. They are “pulling the wrong string,” as -it were. A little child kept calling to his mother that he could not -find what he was seeking, because he could not “make the light come -on.” His mother wisely replied: “You are probably pulling the wrong -string, Harold. Pull the other.” The moment he did so the electric -light flooded the room, and the child found what he sought. It had lain -right to his hand all the time, but he did not know to pull the right -string. Our heart’s desire lies just as close to us. - -Many a person who is always having trouble, who is worried and uneasy, -longing for rest and comfort but never finding it; to whom “life is -a dreary puzzle scarcely worth the solving,” is simply “pulling the -wrong string,” the string of self-will, of separateness. His soul is -darkened by his refusal to turn on the light, and the shadow covers the -whole of his life. - -The darkness is filled with imaginary terrors. We people the corners -with hobgoblins that do not exist, and that in our hearts we know could -not exist. Little Bessie had for several nights cried out in terror -after she had been put to bed, so that her mother was compelled to go -to her. At first she would not say what had frightened her, but at -last the story came out. - -“I was thinking how frightened I should be if there was a bogey-man -in the closet and he should suddenly put his head out and make faces -at me.” “But, child,” said her mother, “you know there is no such -thing as a bogey-man, so he could not be in the closet, nor make faces -at you.” “Yes, mother, I know that,” answered the child, slowly; -“but, mother, _if_ there was a bogey-man, and he did get into my -closet, and if he did put out his head and make faces at me, wouldn’t -I be awfully frightened? Well, it’s _that_ that makes me scream.” And -often the thing that makes us “scream” has no more existence in fact -than Bessie’s bogey-man. We get to turning things over in our minds, -dwelling upon dire possibilities until they become actual to us, and we -get as much pain and suffering from them as we should if they were real. - -It would puzzle ourselves, if we gave the matter attention, to discover -why we are more given to worrying than to rejoicing, if it is not that -we misunderstand life and its purposes. - -Consider life just on its physical side, and we shall see, as the -Creator saw when he looked upon it, that it is all very good. There are -more sunny days in the year than stormy ones; there is more growing -time than decaying time, for spring, summer, and autumn comprise three -parts of the year, and growth continues through them all; the moon -shines always somewhere, and “the stars come nightly to the sky.” The -bright-colored blossoms show more than the somber-hued; more birds sing -sweetly than croak harshly, and even the croak melts into the symphony -as a needed note. The purely material world points to joy and gladness -rather than to sorrow and repining. - -Then, when we come to man, we find that he has more strength than -weakness, more health than sickness, more power than inability, else -man had not survived the ages. Moreover, man must have more capacity -for enjoyment than for sorrow, else he would abandon life in weariness, -or at best he would forget how to laugh; the mere animal does not -laugh, that is one of man’s accomplishments. - -Man has also more desire for knowledge than for ease, else he would -never have penetrated into the secrets and mysteries of Nature; man’s -strong aspirations surmount his groveling tendencies, else he had never -come up out of savagery into the light and development of kinship with -the high gods. - -Then, why should we give way to repining? All things point to the -apostolic truth that “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh -in the morning.” And always the morning comes. Moreover, the darkest -night is seldom starless if we look up intently enough. If we blind our -eyes with tears, we cannot see the light even when the horizon is rosy -with the rising sun. Better by far is it to feel with Browning: - - “How good is man’s life, - The mere living! How fit to employ - All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy.” - - - - -CHAPTER L - -ILL SUCCESS - - “And comfortress of Unsuccess - To wish the dead good-night.” - KIPLING’S “True Romance.” - - -If we aim at worldly success, thinking that thereby we shall be able to -do more for mankind and be more useful, we may defeat our own purpose -by worry and anxiety. The present moment is all that any man has in -which to come into agreement with his fellows. - -If for lack of understanding he spends that moment in worry and -unrest, he makes himself and everybody else more or less unhappy, -thereby destroys his own usefulness, and proves his unfitness to gain -success. But it may be that he is deceived as to his motive; he may -desire success really for the satisfaction of winning against his less -fortunate fellows. - -Why should we desire worldly success to enable us to help our fellows? -No amount of benevolence or philanthropy can atone for the selfishness, -inhumanity and the greed necessary to acquire great wealth under modern -conditions. The widow’s mite or the cup of cold water given from -moment to moment is of greater value than the millions bestowed upon -charity as a sop to one’s conscience, or as a pacifier of public clamor. - -There is a degree of satisfaction in giving _all_ that can never come -from giving a portion of superabundance. We never hear of a very rich -man giving all that he hath, over and above a comfortable, or even a -luxurious, living. His giving hardly requires the sacrifice of even a -whim. How can a man like Rockefeller, with an admitted income of nearly -a dollar every second, be generous? How much would he have to give in -order to feel it?—and what mischief would he not do in giving such a -sum! The “luxury of giving” can never be his, for that is the result -of giving at the expense of our daily desires. The widow who cast in -her mite enjoyed the luxury of giving, and many still give in that way. -This gift of somebody’s mite incited the giving of millions. - -But it is not possible that the gift of millions should bring the giver -much happiness, if it brings any. There is too much publicity and -display in such a gift; it is noised abroad from press and platform, -and creates a new distress in the mind of the giver. The giver knows -that unscrupulous, undeserving persons or causes will now lay siege -to a share of his wealth, because of the notoriety his great gift has -brought him. Some are so oppressed with appeals that they have to -appoint committees to give away the money. There must be about as much -satisfaction in that as in having a committee to kiss the women you -love. - -Besides this, great benefactions cause uneasiness, lest they be -misapplied or unwisely distributed, or lest the glory may be eclipsed -by some other millionaire giving a larger sum to a more popular cause. -Thus donations become a source of unrest and worriment, and the donor’s -last state is worse than his first. The giver of the mite is generally -unknown of the crowd, sometimes unknown even of the one to whom he -gives, so that his joy comes from the giving, and cannot be taken from -him. To him alone is it true that “the gift is to the giver” and that -“it is more blessed to give than to receive.” If there is no real joy -to be had from giving of great wealth, why should we desire to have it, -or fret ourselves that we do not win it? Neither to acquire wealth nor -to possess it can bring happiness or peace. We have seen how great is -the price we must pay to get great riches, and it is easy to see why -their possession cannot bring peace or happiness. - -Man has a limited number of wants, and there is an end even to whims. -When all of these have been satisfied, what is left? The ordinary man -must give time, skill, thought, and labor to satisfy his needs, and -from the effort he gets a large measure of joy and satisfaction. Even -if he never gets what he is after, the effort has given him pleasure, -strengthened his purpose, and developed his whole nature. But the -wealthy man is denied this natural satisfaction. He does not even -have to seek what he wants; servants do that for him; he speaks and -the thing is done. For him there is no joyous effort; no increase of -pleasure in the very delay of fulfillment; no sense of achievement when -he gets what he desires. For this reason he soon wearies, and, having -run the whole gamut of pleasures, and exhausted his idle fancies, he -becomes a prey to ennui, has no object in life, and finds no delight -in the days. It could not be otherwise. As an old servant in my family -once said, “If the rich were happy, we should know there was no God.” -“How hardly shall a rich man enter into the kingdom of heaven,” said -Jesus; meaning thereby that the possession of wealth destroys our -sympathy with our poorer brethren and prevents a man from seeing his -true relation to those who have it not; makes it difficult for him to -recognize his oneness with all mankind, and so cuts him off from that -heaven of love and peace on earth that can come only from agreement of -his own life with the life of others outside his circle. - -If we are worried or ill at ease for any other cause, such as -ill-health, disappointed affections, unsatisfied desires, or from any -of the innumerable causes to which we attribute our ill, we have but -to examine them to find that in every instance the underlying error is -the same. It is that we think of our separate interests, that we are -for self; that “me” has a deeper significance to our mind than “us” -that the “I” blots out the “thou.” All worry, all unrest comes from -self-seeking, from the feeling of separateness rather than of oneness; -from an inharmonious attitude towards life and its underlying verities. - -“Seek ye first the kingdom of God,” said the Teacher, “and all these -things”—material things, food and clothes that he had been speaking -of—“shall be added unto you.” Now God is love, and the kingdom of -God is universal love, the love that knows no separateness; therefore -let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Believe in -God. The man who seeks first the wide Universal Peace does not worry -nor fret. He has, by that very seeking, put himself in tune with the -Infinite, and he finds that the sounds which have seemed to him like -harsh discords are, to his listening ear, blended into harmony. He has -heard the “sweetest carol ever sung” and nothing can drown its melody. -With that song in his ears he can “run and never be wearied, he can -walk and not faint.” He loses his feverish impatience, for “he that -believeth shall not make haste”; he sees himself in every man and every -man in himself; he has found rest for his soul. - -When this peace reigns within, the seeming ills of life do not disturb -us. We are not conscious of ungratified desires, and in this lies the -truth of the promise—“all things shall be added unto you.” For, if man -is not conscious of any ungratified want or desire, then, though he be -poor in this world’s goods and entirely unknown, he is richer by far -than the multi-millionaire who is compelled to heap silver upon gold, -or the pushing politician whose thirst for fame can never be slaked. -He is in harmony with the Universe, he has allied himself with moral -gravitation, and, going with its force, he is upheld and supported, so -that he has rest now and is neither worried nor afraid. - - - - -CHAPTER LI - -SOCIAL UNREST - - Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart; - Rest, ever-seeking soul; calm, mad desires; - Quiet, wild dreams—this is the time of sleep, - Hold her more close than life itself. Forget - All the excitements of the day, forget - All problems and discomforts. Let the night - Take you unto herself, her blessèd self, - Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart; - Rest, ever-seeking soul; calm, mad desires; - Quiet, wild dreams—this is the time of sleep. - - LEOLYN LOUISE EVERETT. - - -Inquiry into the causes and the cure of sleeplessness leads us -inevitably to one conclusion: there must be peace of mind, harmonious -action and interaction of mind and body in order to command the most -refreshing sleep. A man may not know which of the many theories of -sleep is correct—indeed, he may not know that there are any theories -about it, but, if he lives a normal physical life and is at peace with -the world, he is likely to sleep well. - -Since health of body, mind, and soul is essential to our best -development, and since sleep, restful sleep, is essential to such -health, it would seem that such sleep is one of the things which -rightly belong to every individual. And, if to individuals, then to -groups of individuals, to nations, to the whole race. The race is -subject to the same influence as the individual, and, since the chief -cause of the unrest of individuals is their inharmonious relations -towards one another, so the chief cause of the unrest of the race is -its inherent discord. - -Underlying the antagonisms of men to men is the question of -economics—“the science of ... living well for the state, the -family, and the individual,” as the Standard Dictionary defines -it. While the question of how he shall sustain his mere physical -existence—obtain the food, clothes, and shelter so essential to -his maintenance—occupies all a man’s thought and energy, he does -not readily turn toward the consideration of his deeper life. He -feels that every man is his enemy, ready and willing to take from -him, either by superior sharpness, fraud, or force the opportunity -of supplying his needs. - -So long as conditions lead anyone to adopt this attitude towards his -fellows, he is not apt to give much time or thought to discovering -his proper relations toward them. Forces stronger than any number of -individuals, acting separately, may drive men into combinations— such -as labor organizations among the masses, or large corporations among -the privileged classes—until we find a sort of spurious co-operation -taking the place of individual effort. - -But this co-operation is based upon the necessity of combining to -oppose and crush, not upon the desire to avoid friction and bring about -harmonious relations between men. Wherever either labor or capital -organizes to protect itself from the oppression of the other and to -dictate terms to it, that other in its turn organizes to protect -itself and to crush the opposing power. Neither party to the struggle -sees its dependence upon the other. Capital forgets that labor called -it into existence, that without labor there had been no capital, and -that should labor cease capital would soon disappear. Labor does not -see that capital is its own product, drawn from the land and used to -enable men to produce more wealth. And neither sees that the object -of producing wealth is not wealth for its own sake, but that man may, -through its use, develop himself to an ever higher state. - -It is scarcely possible that men should see this under present economic -conditions; how, then, can it be possible for men to understand their -relations to one another or the advantages of harmony? - -And, if economic conditions destroy man’s relations to man, how much -more completely do they destroy man’s relation to the higher life, -to Nature or God? Even in his bitterest struggles with his fellows, -man recognizes that he and those who oppose him are alike victims -of circumstances and must fight. The resentment which he feels is -less toward individuals than to the circumstances which make them -antagonists when they should be coworkers, and he does not see that the -circumstances are of man’s own creating. - -So long as he regards these conditions as natural, ordained by some -power outside himself, he cannot be expected to feel drawn towards -closer relations with that power. While he has to watch his chance in -the battle of life, he can hardly see that to get in harmony with the -laws of the Universe, to recognize his oneness with all life, is to -leave struggle and unrest behind. If life is nothing but struggle, he -wonders how any attitude can destroy or obviate struggling. - -Viewed from his standpoint, he is right. If, as man progresses, the -desire to live well strengthens and deepens, and if this desire can be -gratified only by waging relentless war against men and conditions, -then no study of the relations of man to man or of man to life can -lead to anything but greater cunning and more destructive methods of -opposition. As the individual finds no way to fulfill his desires -without fighting his neighbor, so the nation learns of no way to -advance except through crushing other nations. There can rarely be -true internal peace for the individual and no true rest and healthy -growth for the nation while unjust economic conditions are maintained. - -Wherever an individual feels the pressure of economic conditions too -keenly he loses what little poise he may have had. He becomes restless -and sleepless and the whole tone of his mind and body is lowered. Where -the distress from such pressure becomes general, there the nation -loses tone; quarrels are readily picked with other nations, and war is -resorted to as a means of reducing population and of destroying all -forms of wealth, so that a new demand may be created and the economic -pressure for a time be lessened. These conditions recur again and -again at longer or shorter intervals, and always the same futile means -of meeting them is adopted. Man so little understands life that he -has not learned that harmony with the laws of the Universe underlies -his economic relations as well as his physical relations. If he knew -this, he would know that the distress and dissatisfaction common to -all nations could come only from the violation of natural laws, and he -would begin to search out those laws. Men for a long time held false -ideas of the laws of the solar system, and exhausted ingenious devices -and systems to explain its phenomena. Then they began to discover -underlying laws which explain phenomena more satisfactorily: some of -those laws were found, and our knowledge of the solar system to-day is -based upon these sure fundamentals. - -It is as possible to make sure of the laws governing our economic -conditions as of those that govern the solar system. They must lie at -the root of all things economic and must explain all phenomena that any -condition of society, whether the most primitive or the most complex, -can produce. Until these laws are discovered and applied the earth will -“turn, troubled in sleep,” and men may not know peace. - - - - -CHAPTER LII - -ECONOMIC REST - - Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep. - - SHAKESPEARE. - - -There are deep-lying causes of anxiety, unrest, and sleeplessness -that more or less affect us all: yet, eighteen hundred years ago, One -cried, “The Kingdom of God is at hand.” Not, to come eventually, or -to future peoples, but “the Kingdom is at hand.” We have looked over -a world filled with injustice, for the coming of the kingdom—but we -have not seen it. What is it that hides “the Kingdom at hand” from our -eyes? Is it not iniquity? What kind of iniquity? We once had chattel -slavery, which was denounced as “the sum of all villainies.” We still -have monopoly of the gift of God, which is the fundamental iniquity. -For every one of his children a loving father made ample provision -in the earth, but we have allowed a few to monopolize it all; some -nine out of every hundred own our earth, and we find that, under such -circumstances, the laws of God are impracticable; therefore, we say -“the Kingdom is not a real Kingdom—it is only in men’s minds, only in -some far-off imaginable day it may be in their hearts.” - -The kingdom of God is in our hearts, and, if to-day we will but allow -all our fellows to share in the bounty of Nature, the kingdom will be -around us also, here and now. - -For there is a divine order, a natural law, obedience to which brings -its own immediate rewards; disobedience to which involves its own -punishment. The first order of Nature is that men should derive their -subsistence from the land and the products of land, provided by an -all-wise Creator. From what else can we derive it? Does not everything -we need, from the wheat to the wheel of the watch, come from the earth? -By many hands, by many processes, through many stages, all forms of -wealth are obtained by labor from the land. Food, clothing, fuel, -machinery, buildings, capital are all results of men working on the -materials of the earth. So it is clear why, when we have allowed men to -be shut out from that earth, we find ourselves surrounded by poverty -and misery. - -Like all fundamental laws, the law of our economic relations is simple -and easily understood, even by children. It may be stated thus: food, -clothes, and shelter, being essential to the maintenance of human life, -all human creatures have equal need of and, therefore, equal right to -access to the source of food, clothes, and shelter. This source is the -earth, and the only method known whereby the earth may be made to yield -food, clothes, and shelter is by the application of labor to land. -For, no matter what picture we conjure up, whether it be of the farmer -tilling the soil, the carpenter building a house, the factory operative -weaving cloth, the engineer driving the locomotive that draws the -produce to markets—there we find labor. And, if we try to imagine any -of these forms of labor as cut off from land, we shall find our very -concept of labor and of life wiped out. - -Everything necessary to life, whether it be the life of the individual, -the nation, or of the whole race, can be produced by the combination -of land and labor. Anything that restricts or hampers the application -of labor to land leads to suffering on the part of those deprived of -this access. When the government of a new country wants to increase -population, it offers free land to settlers. It does not say, “If you -will come to this country, the government will build mills, factories, -stores, offices, banks, and churches for you”; it says rather, “Here is -land, come and use it; build for yourselves out of its materials.” All -other forms of prosperity flow from the application of labor to land, -and, therefore, it is sufficient to give to men free access to natural -opportunities. If the government of a country owned all the land -of that country, it could increase, restrict, or otherwise regulate -population, and better or worsen the condition of that population by -the way in which it granted or withheld the land under its control. - -This is in effect what government has done. It first bettered -conditions by allowing free access to land, and then worsened them -by allowing a few to make the land their private property; this -appropriation of the land carries with it the power to hold it out of -use, thus depriving all men of their equal right to the use of the -earth, the source of supply for all men’s wants. Instead of these -favored few being made to pay those deprived of the land an equivalent -for the privilege enjoyed, the disinherited many are compelled to pay a -premium to the landholder for the opportunity to labor. - -When there is a lockout, is it not the pressure of want that brings -the men back, hat in hand, to the factory door? If one could go to the -outskirts of this town to cultivate a bit of the unused land, could he -not hold out till he got all that his labor was worth? And, when he and -his fellows are offered less, if they could but get at the unused mines -and quarries and coalfields and factory sites, and vacant lots, they -would not need to seek an employer at all—they could get credit, if -needed, and produce for themselves the capital which they now produce -for others and employ themselves in doing it. - -So many evils flow from the fundamental wrong of shutting up the earth, -that rest, the peace of mind and body that makes for refreshing sleep, -is to many impossible. - -And who that understands would wish it otherwise? Were the power of -rest and peace universal now, it would be a denial of the very cause -of rest,—the proper understanding of man’s relations to humanity and -to life. Until man has adjusted his economic contrivances to the -underlying laws of a true Social Science, he cannot have national or -racial rest. The material science, biology, is proving this ethical -truth. Recently Dr. Woods Hutchinson has shown that it does not take -even three generations to make a high-class man a “thoroughbred,” as -he terms it. If good food, light, air, proper clothing, and wholesome -recreation were extended to the masses, each generation would produce -its own “thoroughbreds” from the “common people.” He says: “Men -not only can but do get to be as able, as useful, and as desirable -citizens for the community, in every possible regard, in one generation -as they will ever get or are capable of becoming. Give the unspoiled, -warm-hearted mass of humanity a fair living chance—good food, fresh -air, sunshine, decent homes, no overwork, plenty of healthful -amusements—and you will reap a far larger crop not merely of happiness, -of justice, and of well-being, but also of geniuses, of great men and -of all leaders and illuminators than any nation can possibly utilize.” - -Until the privilege-created aristocracy of other countries and -plutocracy of this country get off the backs of the people and cease -to exploit them by monopolies, there can be no complete and permanent -rest, for the “mania for owning things” possesses the rich, and the -fear of want makes restlessness for the poor. The burden-bearing masses -have not yet seen the cause of their burden, even though they feel its -intolerable weight at times and make efforts to throw it off. All this -deepens their unrest. - -The very oneness of all life will put sound sleep and true rest ever -beyond the general reach until all are given equal opportunity in -Nature’s great gift to man, the Earth. - -Then the worker, free of the taxes of rent and monopoly, free of -cut-throat competition forced by monopoly, would have some leisure -in which to use his brains and cultivate his affections; and -liberty—moral, intellectual, and economic—would be here. - -Was it not something like this which Jesus had in mind when he said -“the Kingdom of God is at hand”? Did not he say that obedience to -the laws of the Universe would bring their own immediate and immense -reward? The kingdom and the peace of God is within our reach, did we -but realize it. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII - -“IF HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL” - - Oh! thou best comforter of that sad heart - Whom Fortune’s spite assails; come, gentle sleep, - The weary mourner soothe. - - MRS. TIGHE. - - -We believe in a ruling Principle of Order in the Universe, in -accordance with which everything lives and moves—planets, plants, and -man. - -We call this “God,” “the Spirit,” the “Nature of Things,” or by some -other name, but we find that, in crystal, vegetable, or animal, it -always works: and we see that it tends forever toward a more harmonious -arrangement and better relations of the whole system. - -There are seeming lapses, where we cannot yet see, in this instance or -in that, how it will work out; but in the arrangement of the stars, -the growth of knowledge through experience, and in the history of -man, we see in the broad view that it does so work out well. Probably -Mary, certainly the disciples, thought at the time that the death of -Jesus was a horrible mistake and misfortune. Now we see that it was -“needful that this one man should die for all the people” and that to -him, even then, it was no misfortune. The sacrifice of one for many -is a great principle of life. The development of the earth from chaos -to fruitfulness, the development of man from brutality to the rule of -mind, the development of ourselves from single selfishness to the wider -love, shows that there is a beneficent Force and that “all things work -together for good.” If each of us considers himself alone, as having -separate interests, this truth will be obscured; but when we recognize -that each of us is a part of the whole, as the tongue is a part of the -body, we see that no part can be favored without injuring the entire -system. - -If we unduly gratify the taste, the tongue is the very first to show -that the stomach is “out of order,” and this disharmony is felt in the -whole body. - -Sometimes we have done wrong, or have seen others do wrong apparently -with profit; but the wider view will always show that the way of the -transgressor is as hard as his heart, that the wicked man is in truth -the fool. We know that any attempt that man makes to disturb the right -order for the sake of any separate interest must react upon himself, -destroying his own happiness as well as the happiness of those about -him. - -Similarly we see that the prophet, the cultivator, the inventor, the -martyr, the benevolent man, each doing what he is inspired to do, is -working just as much for all mankind as for himself, that he cannot -reap the benefit except as others share it. For our good, we are joined -together in one connected whole, so that no man liveth, or so much as -dieth, to himself. - -We see how the Spirit makes “even the wrath of men to praise him” that -the tyranny of a king was necessary to drive out colonists to proclaim -liberty, and the fierce rivalry of nations in armament is needed to -usher in a Court of International Peace. Since that is so, since we -know that in great or universal affairs the eternal purposes cannot be -interfered with, why should we think that it fails to work in our own -little interests? - -We see beautiful, symmetrical shells and well-adapted organs in -creatures so small that we know of their existence only through -high-power microscopes. In them we find the same rule of law, the same -adaptation to supreme ends that we find in the measureless suns and in -the measureless souls of men. - -Accordingly, when what seems evil “happens,” as we say, to us, upon -what principle can we conclude that this is an exception, that in this -case something has occurred that ought not to have occurred? If one -thing went wrong in the divine intent, it would show a limit to the -rule of Good. We know that there can be no such limit. - -It is not fatalism to believe that the same holy order rules over us, -for each of us and each of our efforts is a part of the divine plan, -and a means of carrying it out. We should strive for those things that -seem to us desirable and good; although we may not have success, as -we call it, so kind is the constitution of things that the effort to -direct things right dulls the pain of finding that the event shapes -itself in a way that we do not like. - -We are threatened, perhaps, with what seems a horrible disaster: why, -the very derivation of the word disaster refers to the influence which -the stars are supposed to have upon our destinies. Some power there is -that controls those destinies, in spite of our human limitations of -time and space. Who would take the job, though he had the power, of -controlling even the material world, arranging the growth of plants, -the rise and fall of nations, the birth and waning of the stars? - -Yet we do wish to assume just such Omnipotence and Omniscience in our -personal affairs; to say that this possession must not, shall not slip -from me, this one must not die. And, if this that is so dear does go -away, then in that one instance, because it concerns us, we refuse to -admit that that instance is no exception to the rule of Love, or to -recognize the kind watchfulness of Him that, keeping Israel, slumbers -not nor sleeps. - -And yet the loss hurts, and the fear of it hurts still more, with a -pain that seems past endurance—it hurts, and for ages long it has been -necessary that we should have just such pain in order that we may make -the efforts that contribute our part to the progress of the world. - -But some of us do not in our hearts believe in a beneficent Order of -the Universe. We think that some persons may seize what they want, -regardless of others, and yet no evil come to them. Even if that be -so, still it is wise to act so as to gain the most happiness and, -therefore, to accommodate ourselves to the Nature of Things. - -If we could but leave out the unreasonable self-pity and get into our -hearts, as knowledge that is a part of ourselves, this understanding -of the goodness and the loving kindness of God, we should be as gods -ourselves, seeing the end from the beginning and recognizing that, -success or failure, loss or gain, life or death, the times are in his -hands, and it is all very good. And our hearts should not be troubled, -nor our rest disturbed. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV - -CONCLUSION - - When the shining day doth die, - Sweet is sleep. - - DORA READ GOODALE. - - -We have finished our long inquiry, and it has brought us to thoughts -and perhaps to conclusions for which we did not look. Such is the -leading of the Spirit, into ways that we know not of. - - “So read I this—and as I try - To write it clear again - I find a second finger lie - Above mine on the pen.” - -Much of the ground we have merely passed over, it may be hurriedly, but -we have seen a promised land of Peace, and, wherever the soles of our -feet have trodden, the land shall be given to us and to our children -for an inheritance—if we will. - -Now, once again, dear reader—dear, for, in striving and in helping each -other to get a clear view of these important matters, we become dear to -each other—try these things. - -If you have read and merely approved or disapproved, you will get -little good from the reading. You remember the pathetically comic story -of the little boy who was asked if his father was a Christian: - -“Yes,” he said, “pa is a Christian; but he does not work much at it.” -That man might more hopefully have been an infidel. You must put all -that you can accept into practice if it is to be of any use. - -We have found that what we call body and mind and soul are so closely -bound together that no one of them can be well or ill independently of -the others. We divide them in our thought and speech; but we cannot -find any line of separation. Every state joins on to the next one: -mineral and vegetable and animal are composed of the same elements -which pass from one state to another. The silex and the lime are taken -up to make the wheat hard, we eat wheat and these elements pass into -our bones, and, when our bodies return to Mother Earth, the rootlets -take them up again to run the round once more. - -So the body and mind and soul are all one Life. There are no divisions -in Nature. The form differs, but the essence is uniform. We classify -for the sake of convenience and of clear statement. As Sir Oliver -Lodge says, in “The Survival of Man”—“Boundaries and classifications -must be recognized as human artifices, but for practical purposes -distinctions are necessary”; but the philosopher never loses sight of -the fundamental fact that each animal, flying-fish and whale, seal and -polar bear, bat and bird, can be classified only by seizing on some -acquired characteristic, such as the temperature of the blood, the -method of birth, or the structure of the bones. These mark the animal -as belonging to an order. - -We see, then, that all are One, different manifestations of the -Universal Life, which must be understood and treated as a whole to see -and avail ourselves of the Universal Harmony. Accordingly we find that -we must work with Nature if she is to bring forth abundantly, of bodily -or of spiritual things, to satisfy our desires. Only in the sweat of -our faces do we absorb the full comfort and strength of the bread of -life. - -Whatever you have willingly received, willingly give to others. Only -when you cast the seed, this your mental bread, upon the fertilizing -waters, shall it return to you in the harvest after many days. - - * * * * * - -What I have written, I have written as much for myself as for you: if -it were not so, it would be useless both to you and to me. We must go -up each for himself and take the strongholds of our own Ignorance and -Distrust and Fear. Let no one think that he can get life by merely -reading these words of life. - -Try these things for yourself—teach these things to your other selves; -breathe them in and live them out. Open your mind and enlarge your -heart so that the Spirit may be able to bless you and keep you with -him, and to be kind to you, and to lift up the Light of his countenance -upon you and give you - - - PEACE. - - - - -APPENDICES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY - - -Some matters of interest mainly to students of sleep phenomena have -been mentioned in the text and put in these appendices. In this way the -general reader is saved the trouble of skipping in the body of the text. - -Appendix “A” contains some medical information on the subject of -Insomnia and sleep-inducing drugs. - -Appendix “B” and “C” have been translated from the Latin by A. T. -Craig especially for use in “The Gift of Sleep.” They are of value -chiefly as showing the attitude of the ancients towards this natural -function. - -Appendix “D” gives some provisional conclusions based on a -Questionnaire on Sleep. The returns are as yet incomplete. - - - - -APPENDIX A - - -The “Dictionary of Psychological Medicine” (1892), giving the -terms used in medical psychology with the symptoms, treatment, and -pathology of insanity. Two vols. Edited by D. Hack Tuke, M.D., LL.D., -Examiner in Mental Psychology in the University of London; lecturer on -Psychological Medicine, etc., says: - -LOSS OF SLEEP AS A CAUSE AND CONSEQUENCE OF INSANITY: Insomnia is the -indication of a morbid condition. It is also, when prolonged, something -more. Loss of sleep may frequently be a cause, or one of several -causes, of mental disorder. To remove it is therefore of the greatest -consequence in the early treatment of the insane. _In a large number of -instances it is doubtless the consequence and not the cause of mental -trouble._ The agony of mind associated with melancholia, or the rapid -flow of ideas in acute mania, may render sleep an almost unattainable -boon, and in these cases it requires great discrimination to decide -when, if at all, to administer hypnotics. (P. 1173.) - -REMEDIES KNOWN AS SOMNIFACIENTS, SOPORIFICS, HYPNOTICS, AND NARCOTICS: -At the outset we must put the question, Is there a distinction between -hypnotics and narcotics? Dujardin-Beaumetz answers in the affirmative. -He holds that for the drug to be hypnotic it must imitate the natural -condition of sleep by effecting a lowered intra-cranial pressure, and -that drugs which, though bringing about unconsciousness, do not lower -cerebral pressure, or which increase it, cannot claim to be hypnotics. -On this line he separates chloral as a hypnotic from opium as a -narcotic ... in the different forms of artificial or drugged sleep it -is probable that these two factors—quantity of blood, including blood -pressure, and quality of blood, do each play a part. (P. 1129.) - -Medical science has been able so far to do little for sleeplessness, -except to call it “Insomnia.” INSOMNIA: Loss of sleep has been -classified under various heads by writers on wakefulness. Thus -German-Sée has made no less than nine divisions: - -a—dolorous insomnia. - -b—digestive. - -c—cardiac and dyspnoeal insomnia. - -d—cerebros-spinal, neurotic insomnia comprising lesions of encephalon, -general paralysis, acute and chronic mania, hysteria, hypochondriasis. - -e—psychic insomnia (emotional and sensational). - -f—insomnia of cerebral and physical fatigue. - -g—genito-urinary insomnia. - -h—febrile, infectious, autotoxic insomnia. - -i—toxic insomnia (coffee, tea, alcohol).[10] - -[10] Tuke’s “Dictionary of Psychological Medicine,” vol. i., p. 703. - -Among the causes of insomnia those of a predisposing character are the -female sex, old age, nervous temperament, intellectual pursuits. - -Of exciting causes may be enumerated organic or functional diseases -of the brain, worry, anxiety, grief, and bodily pain; noise, if not -monotonous, fever, coffee, tea, etc. - -Among the insane, insomnia is one of the most frequent symptoms, -except in chronic dementia. In melancholia it is the most distressing -accompaniment of the disorder, and is especially marked in the early -morning. - -A careful analysis of the conditions or causes of insomnia has -been made by Dr. Folsom (U. S.). The principal ones may be briefly -enumerated as follows: Habit, reflex causes, as indigestion, -genito-urinary disorders; autotoxic causes, as gout, lithæmia, -syphilis, habitual constipation; anæmia, vaso-motor changes, -neurasthenia, hallucinations of sight or hearing, astigmatism—the -strain of the eye which in health may be unnoticed, producing “in -states of debility, headache, dizziness, spasmodic muscular action or -wakefulness” and the neurotic temperament.[11] - -[11] Tuke’s “Dictionary of Psychological Medicine,” vol. i., pp. 703-4. - - - - -APPENDIX B - -ABSTRACT FROM ARTICLE: “LUMINOUS SLEEP” By P. ARUNOCHALAM - - -Deep sleep is a sleep of darkness, that is, the sleep of the nerves, -and the utter relaxation of the body. Its refreshment is due to absence -of thought. - -Is there a sleep of light, a luminous sleep, in which, while there is -absence of thought, there is not darkness and oblivion, but perfect -consciousness? To suppose this did not seem irrational to the Greeks. -(An instance is cited of the abstracted moods of Socrates, Sympos: -174-5.) (Further citations of this eccentricity of Socrates are in: The -Tamil Sage; Charmides; Phaedrus; The Republic; also Tennyson, “The -Ancient Sage.”) - -This reality, sleep that is a sort of abstraction from the bodily -condition, is pure consciousness of spirit, “Luminous sleep,” an -intellectual and spiritual condition as contrasted with physical sleep. -To the general aspects of the genius and life of Ancient Greece, -to its philosophy of the reality of pure abstraction, of absolute -knowledge and the possibility of attaining it, such a theory would seem -reasonable. - -Dr. Jowett is cited as maintaining that pure abstraction is mere -negation. - - - - -APPENDIX C - -THESE CLASSICAL, THOUGH ENTIRELY A PRIORI, THEORIES OF SLEEP ARE NOT -WITHOUT INTEREST - -SLEEP AND WAKING - -By GIOVANNI ARGENTERIO (A.D. 1556) - - -PREFACE - -That it may well be difficult to explain the nature, differences, -causes, and importance of sleep and waking, I think is made clear -enough by the fact that concerning them there is great doubt and -dissension among the highest philosophers and physicians. For Galen, -when he questioned what sleep was, and what waking, decided at length -that he could not be certain in what order of phenomena to classify -them. Aristotle indeed, in his definitions of sleep and waking, -arranges them in different places. Judging from selected books of all -authors, no one, in my opinion, has been able to enumerate the general -differences of sleep and waking by any certain method. Alcmœn thinks -sleep is produced when the blood in the veins flows back and becomes -congested. Empedocles believes it to arise from the chilling of heat -in the blood. Diogenes states that sleep is induced by the blood -pushing to the inner cavities of the body the air that is introduced -into bodies. Plato and the Stoics taught that it arose of itself by -the letting go of the spirit (or the releasing of the breath) and the -consequent relaxation. - -It is needless to refute the cause which Aristotle gives for sleep, -and Galen for waking. They do not accord. The one thinks the true -cause arises and has its seat in the heart,—the other in the brain. On -account of which disagreement, great contention has been excited among -more recent philosophers and physicians, as to which view to adhere -to. Some attribute one significance, others another to these things. -And so, because of the great difficulty introduced, there is nothing -relative to the matter which is not in the deepest obscurity and doubt. -A knowledge of this thing is, nevertheless, most useful, even if come -upon by any other fortunate means, and not only through the knowledge -of the doctors; by such means, for instance, as through the study of -the general arts; for if it is joyful to philosophize, and to happen -upon the hidden and abstruse things in the secret places of nature,—who -would not find great pleasure in learning the causes of the sleeping -and waking of creatures, why now they take long, now short sleeps; -why at one time it is difficult to capture sleep,—at another time -impossible to dispel it? - -We wonder how at one moment sleep leads to waking; how waking and -sleeping mutually succeed each other; why diverse things serve to -explain each other, as sleep, waking,—and waking, sleep. - -Sometimes these, sleep and waking, are injurious,—at other times -beneficial. For sleep and also waking bring forth diseases, intensify -them; both equally drive them away, soothe sorrows and likewise -intensify them; by one and the other alike, morbid causes are often -destroyed more effectually than by any other remedy; indeed, in -conjunction with the benefit of these (sleep and waking), concoctions, -food, purgatives, and finally all the functions of the different parts -of the body may be exercised to the best advantage; nor is it possible, -indeed, for a creature to live, or to maintain his life, without sleep -and waking. - -There is no action of the body or mind which has greater values to the -body, nothing which supplies more reliable signs for discerning bodily -ills, and showing how to be rid of them. - -Of which things, indeed, the investigation and knowledge is -most useful, and not without pleasure to those who delight in -the understanding of things; that is what Aristotle, prince of -philosophers, notices, when he writes his whole book concerning sleep -and waking,—and often elsewhere at random in his writings. Not the -less does Hippocrates notice them in his citations, for he wrote most -sayings on the subject, so many that I omit them; and there are many -in other books, of which a definite impression does not remain in my -memory. But as I have said, when all, or certainly most writers on this -subject may be perplexed with regard to these things, and involved in -many difficulties, no one ought to condemn me, if, after them, and many -men, I presume to write on this subject. - - -CHAPTER I - -BY WHAT CAUSES AND MEANS SLEEP AND WAKING ARE PRODUCED, ACCORDING TO -THE OPINION OF ARISTOTLE - -To refute the opinion of the philosophers concerning the causes of -sleep and waking, I think superfluous; because, with Aristotle’s views -surviving now many centuries, no authority among these other writers -may be greater than his; and because the ignorant premises of the -others makes all discussion of them become inane. - -Because of this I think I should be excused for introducing the opinion -of Aristotle among all the philosophers, that is, for choosing it -from among them, for if we show it to be equally probable with the -others which we presume to refute, it will be because, unlike them, it -extinguishes them by its own plausibility. - -Aristotle thinks sleep to be produced by a vapor generated by the heat -energy in food, the fumes of which, rising to the brain, are there -converted into moisture by the coldness of the brain itself, because, -as he says, cold is felt at the contact just as rain is known to be -made from vapor in contact with cold air; which moisture or humor, -by force of gravity, is pushed downward, descends through the veins, -drives the heat from the heart, and makes that cold also; whence, the -cold spreading about, sleep, he says, generally arises. - -This moisture, or humor,—ought to be warm, he writes; when it is cold, -sleep will not be produced,—just as those affected with sleepiness -show that their systems are in warm and at the same time humid -condition; and children, who have abundance of this warm moisture, -sleep the most; whence he states that this sleep chill has in fact its -causes at the outset in this very warmth. These things he discusses -partly in the book on “Sleep and Waking,” partly in the second of -“The Parts of Animals,” and in “Problems.” I am not able to judge -concerning the first matter, the idea of giving a single cause of -sleep. For, according to this author, waking brings sleep;[12] since -even animals, by means of waking and exercising their functions are -known to become quiet and sleep, and it is said by him, that since -animals become helpless in sleep, this helplessness is produced by the -excess of waking that precedes it. - -[12] It appears that Argenterio thinks Aristotle inconsistent in his -proposition here. - -But not in waking, in food, or in this reason of generated vapor, -is it possible to place the cause of sleep. Exercise produces this -very effect. For through labor, deep and sweetest sleep falls upon -the creatures; and this not on account of vapors rising from food, -nor on account of a natural moisture, so much as by the violent -exercise of the body. Foods that are cold or dried, as the hull of -the mandrake,—taken into the body, induce sleep; which therefore is -not accomplished because these foods give rise to vapors, since they -would rather banish the vapors by their dryness; nor would these foods -supply to the head what vapor is generated, since, repelled by the -cold of such substances being taken into the body, the moisture would -be repelled and chilled, and prevent the vapor from being carried to -the brain. This would be so, as he says, only if the generation of -vapors, and their ascent arose from the heating of this natural humor -or moisture. - - * * * * * - -Other chapters of interest in Argenterio’s “Sleep and Waking” are: - - CHAPTER II: What may bring sleep, and by what method, according to - Galen. - - CHAPTER III: The causes producing sleep, which are thought true. - - CHAPTER XI: In what way sleep may be produced from natural heat. - - CHAPTER XIII: Concerning natural causes of Sleep and Waking. - - CHAPTER XIV: Concerning unnatural causes of Sleep and Waking. - - CHAPTER XVII: Of causes of long and short sleep. - - - - -APPENDIX D - -QUESTIONNAIRE ON SLEEP - - -In order to get the facts about SLEEP we sent a question sheet to -a large number of persons selected by classes. We began with a -thousand professors in order to get suggestions which might make the -investigation more useful. The following request was sent out: - - -PLEASE FILL OUT AND RETURN— - -We shall be glad to supply additional copies of this slip upon -request—we desire the largest number of replies possible and it is -hoped the scientific interest of the subject will lead you to aid us in -procuring them. - - Age Weight Height Health - - Married? - - Do you sleep well? - - How many waking hours in bed? - - How many hours’ sleep on an average, and at what - times? - - What do you consider sufficient for yourself? - - Any difference during vacations? - - Do you use any means or devices for inducing sleep? - - Similar observations on members of your family, if - any? - - Are your dreams usually rational or fantastic, pleasant - or unpleasant? - - Do you have nightmare? - - Are you given to worry? - - Does physical, especially agricultural, work relieve - this? - - Do you take artificial exercise, or does your work involve - exercise? - - Appetite good? Simple diet or - elaborate? - - Is the “sleep of the laboring man sweet” in reality? - - Name - - Profession - - Address - -No scientifically complete tabulation and study of data has yet been -made on SLEEP. - -Moffat, Yard & Company is publishing a book entitled “The Gift of -Sleep,” by Bolton Hall. For the purpose of this book it is desired -to obtain full information concerning the amount of sleep needed -by individuals in different walks of life, the circumstances under -which the soundest and most restful sleep is obtained, and the amount -necessary for individuals. - -You will confer a great favor if you will fill out this sheet and -return to the publisher. - - Yours very truly, - MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY, - 31 East Seventeenth Street, - New York. - - -ADDITIONAL REMARKS - -At the date of going to press we have not received answers sufficient -in number to warrant very definite statements in regard to sleep and -dreams. A thorough report must be reserved for a later edition. Nor was -the time sufficient for the very considerable labor of examining and -tabulating the replies. It appears, however, that about one person in -thirty regards himself as a poor sleeper, and only two others in thirty -will say they sleep only fairly well. About three persons out of five -report that they spend no time in wakefulness in bed; the remaining -two persons spend from fifteen minutes to five or six hours each, the -average among this group being one hour and ten minutes per person per -night. Among professors in our leading universities the prevailing hour -for retiring is between 10 and 11 o’clock; four-fifths of this group -say they retire either at 10, 10.30, or 11 o’clock; but this class of -people retire on the average about one-half hour later than persons of -the other classes from whom we have received replies. - -The average duration of sleep is, roughly, seven and one-half hours. -One-third of all replies gave eight hours as the length of sleep; and -the professors are inclined to sleep a slightly longer period than -those in the other occupations taken together. - -The age of the individuals seemed to have no effect on the averages -of the daily amount of time spent in sleep. Persons under the age of -forty differed in no marked degree from persons over forty either in -length of sleep or frequency of dreaming. There is general agreement -on the point that they get just enough sleep, and that vacations make -only a slight increase. The data is not yet sufficient to justify a -conclusion as to the average time of sleep at different ages. - -In reference to dreams, about 15 per cent. report that they do not -dream, and about 30 per cent. say they dream “rarely,” “seldom,” or -“occasionally.” We are disposed to question these returns on the ground -that they give an impression that dreams are less frequent than they -really are. The investigations of most experimenters who have made -special studies of dreams seem rather to show that the number of our -dream-experiences grows as soon as we give our attention to them, just -as, on a clear night, a hasty glance at the sky may reveal many stars, -but a steady gaze reveals very many more. - -Our returns are interesting as to the character of the dreams. The -favorite adjective used to describe dreams was “rational.” A lesser -number of persons said their dreams were “pleasant,” less still -that they were “fantastic.” Three times as many persons describe -their dreams as pleasant than those who describe them as generally -unpleasant. Either Professor Freud’s conclusion is correct, that we -tend to forget unpleasant experiences more readily than pleasant ones, -or else the dreams really afforded more pleasurable than they did -disagreeable feelings. The most typical combination used to describe -the nature of the individual’s dream-life was that it was “rational -and pleasant.” Less than one-third of all the answerers confessed to -having ever experienced nightmare. - -It should be observed that thus far we have encountered a group of -replies from persons who, as a group, are remarkably healthy, normal, -and fairly free from worry. Particularly, worry does not seem to be a -vice of professors, as only 8 per cent. confess to it. About 17 per -cent. of them say they need more physical exercise than they get, which -is mostly walking. There is also a gratifying unanimity as to good -appetite, simple diet, and absence of need for artificial means of -inducing sleep. - - - - -APPENDIX E - -BIBLIOGRAPHY - - -It is surprising how little has been written about Sleep, and what a -small part of what has been written is worth reading. Perhaps the best -book, certainly the most exhaustive, is Marie Manacéïne’s “Sleep,” -which contains a full but disorderly Bibliography. - -Except in the case of American works, which might easily have escaped -Marie Manacéïne’s attention, I have not tried to go further back than -that Bibliography, as she was most industrious in research; I have only -cut out from her list what seemed the more obsolete or needless works. -But with the help of A. T. Craig and others, I have carried it, as far -as may be, down to date. - - -Bibliography Selected from that Given in “Sleep” (Manacéïne). - - ABERCROMBIE: Inquiries Concerning the Intellectual Powers, p. 283 et - seq., 1840. - - BAILLARGER: De l’influence de l’état intermédiare à la veille et au - sommeil sur la production et la marche des hallucinations. _Annales - Médico-psychologiques_, 1845, tome vi. - - BICHAT: Sur la Mort et la Vie. Paris. - - BRIERRE DE BOISMONT: Etude médico-légales sur les hallucinations et - les illusions. _Annales d’hygiène publique et de médicin légale_, - 1861, tome xvi. - - BROADBENT: Insomnia, _Lancet_, April, 1887. - - BURNHAM, W. H.: Memory, Historically and Experimentally Considered. - Part III, Paramnesia, _Amer. Jour. of Psychol._, May, 1889. - - BYFORD: On the Physiology of Exercise. _Amer. Jour. of the Med. - Sciences_, 1855, No. 59. - - On the Physiology of Repose or Sleep. _Amer. Jour. of the Med. - Sciences_, April, 1856. - -CATLIN: Shut Your Mouth, 1870. - -CONDILLAC: Essai sur l’origine des connaisances humaines, Sect. I, -chapter ix. - -CRICHTON-BROWNE, J.: Dreamy Mental States. _Lancet_, 1895, No. 3749. - -DELBOEUF: Le Sommeil et les Rêves. - -DE SANCTIS AND NEYROZ: Experimental Investigations Concerning the Depth -of Sleep. _Psychol. Rev._, vol. ix, pp. 254-282. 1902. - -DUFAY: La notion de la personalité. - -DURHAM: The Physiology of Sleep. - - _Guy’s Hospital Reports_, vol. vi, 1860. - - _Psychol. Jour._, vol. v, p. 74 et seq. - -ERRERA, LEO: Sur le Mécanisme du Sommeil. Brussels, 1895. - -FAZIO: Sul Sonno naturale, studio teoretico sperimentale, _Il -Morgagni_, 1874. - -FRÖLICH: Ueber den Schlaf, Berlin, 1799. - -FUCKER: Light of Nature Pursued, 1805, vol. i. - -GREENWOOD, FRED: Imagination in Dreams, and their Study, 1894. - -HAMMOND: On Wakefulness, 1866, 1873. - - Sleep and Its Derangements. - - A Treatise on Insanity, p. 115 et seq. Philadelphia, 1869. - -HARTMANN: Philosophy of the Unconscious. - -HENNE: Du Sommeil Naturel. - -HERBART: Sämtliche Werke, Bd. V., p. 541 et seq. - -HOWELL: A Contribution to the Theory of Sleep, _Jour. of Exper. Med._, -1897. - -JUDÉE: De l’état de rêve. _Gazette des Hôspitaux_, 1856. - -LANGE: Geschichte des Materialismus, 1875. (English trans. by E. C. -Thomas, 1881.) - -LEMOINE: Du sommeil au point de vue physiologique et psychologique, -1855. - -LIÉBAULT: Du sommeil et des états analogues, 1866. - -MAUDESLEY: Body and Will, 1883. - -MEYER, BRUNO: Aus der Æsthetischen Pädagogik. - -MOORE, C. A.: On Going to Sleep, 1871. - -NAGEL: Der natürliche und künstliche Schlaf, 1872. - -NUDOW: Versuch einer Theorie des Schlafes, Königsberg, 1791, p. 129 et -seq. - -PATRICK AND GILBERT: On the Effects of Loss of Sleep, _Psych. Rev._, -Sept., 1896. - -PAULHAN, A.: De l’activité de l’esprit dans le rêve, _Revue Philos._, -Nov., 1894, p. 546. - -PLATTNER: Von dem Schlaf der Kinder, welcher durch das Einwiegen -hervorgebracht wird (1740). - -PIERROT: De l’insomnie, 1869. - -RADESTOCK: Schlaf und Traum, 1879. - - (In _Rev. Philos._), April, 1897: La rapidite de la pensée dans le - rêve. - - Le sommeil et la cérébration inconsciente. - -SANCTIS, SANTE DE: I Sogni e il Sonno; I Sogni nei Deliquenti, -_Archivio di Psichiatria_, 1896, vol. vi. - - Emozioni e Sogni. _Dritter Internationale Congress C Psychol._, - Munich, 1897, p. 348. - -SCHERNER: Das Leben des Traumes, 1861. - -SCHUBERT: Geschichte der Seele, p. 420 et seq. - -SERGUÉJEFF: Physiol. de la Veille et du Sommeil, t. i. and ii., 1890. - -SIEBECK: Das Traumleben der Seele. - -STEWART, DUGALD: Handbook of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. - -STRÜMPELL: Die Natur und Entstehung der Träume. - -SULLY, J.: The Human Mind, vol. ii. - - Illusions, International Scientific Series. - - Dream, (Article) Encyclop. Brit. - - The Dream as a Revelation, _Fortnightly Rev._, March, 1893. - -SYMONDS, J. A.: Sleep and Dreams, 1851. - -TARCHANOFF: Observations sur le sommeil normal. _Atti dell’ XI -Congresso Med._, Roma, 1894, vol. ii. - -VERITY: Subject and Object as Connected with our Double Brain, 1872. - -VOLKELT: Die Traum-Phantasie, 1875. - -WALSH: On Sleep, _Lancet_, 1846, vol. ii., p. 181. - -WEYGANDT: Entstehung der Träume, 1893. - -WIGAN, A. L.: The Duality of Mind, 1844. - -WILKS, SAMUEL: On the Nature of Dreams, _Med. Mag._, Feb., 1894. - - On Overwork, The _Lancet_, June 26, 1875. - - -ADDITIONAL BIBLIOGRAPHY - - ACKLAND, THEODORE DYKE: Circular letters relating to hours of sleep - necessary for schoolboys (particularly in English public schools), - 1905. - - ALSBERG, MORITZ: Die protoplasmatische Bewegung der - Nervenzellenfortsätze in ihren Beziehungen zum Schlaf. _Deutsche - Gesellsch. f. Anthrop._ - - Ethnol. u. Urgeschichte, _Correspondenzblatt_, vol. xxxii, pp. 2-8, - München, 1901. - - ANASTAY, E.: L’origine biologique du Sommeil et de l’hypnose, - _Archives de Psychol._, Paris, 1908, vol. viii, pp. 63-76. - - ARGENTERIO (GIOVANNI): De somno et vigilia, libri duo, in quibus - continentur duae tractationes de calido nativo et de spiritibus. - (Florentiae, 1556.) - - ARUNACHALAM, P.: Luminous Sleep, _Westminster Rev._, vol. clviii, pp. - 566-574, London, 1902. - - BERGER, E., and LOEWY, ROBERT: L’état des yeux pendant le sommeil et - de la théorie du sommeil. _Jour. de l’anatomie et de la physiologie_, - Paris, 1898, vol. xxxiv, pp. 364-418. - - BIGELOW, JOHN: The Mystery of Sleep. Harper & Bros., New York, 1903 - (2nd edition). - - BINNS, EDWARD: The Anatomy of Sleep, or the Art of Producing Sound and - Refreshing Slumber at Will. London, 1842. - - BRUSH, C. E., JR., and FAYERWEATHER, R.: Observations on the Changes - in Blood Pressure During Normal Sleep. _Amer. Jour. of Physiol._, vol. - v, pp. 199-210, 1901. - - CALKINS, MARY W.: Statistics of Dreams, _Amer. Jour. Psychol._, vol. - v, pp. 311-343. 1893. Investigation of over 500 dreams showing the - relative frequency of different sorts of sense imagery. - - CLAPARÈDE, EDOUARD: La fonction du sommeil, _Riv. d. sci._, Bologna, - 1907, vol. ii, pp. 143-160. - - CORNING, J. LEONARD: Brain-rest, Being a Disquisition on the Curative - Properties of Prolonged Sleep. New York, Putnams, 1885. - - DEMOOR, JEAN: La plasticité des neurones le mécanisme du sommeil, - _Bull. de la Soc. d’anthropologie de Bruxelles_, vol. xv, pp. 70-83. - - DONALDSON, H. H.: The Growth of the Brain, chapter xvi, p. 309. - Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1897. - - ELLIS, HAVELOCK: The Stuff that Dreams are Made of. _Pop. Sci. - Monthly_, 1899, pp. 721-735. Man and Woman, chapter xii. 1894. - - FISHER, IRVING: Report on National Vitality, Govt. Printing Office, - Washington, D. C. 1909. - - FOSGATE, B.: Sleep Psychologically Considered with Reference to - Sensation and Memory. New York, 1850. - - FOSTER, HENRY HUBBARD: The Necessity of a New Standpoint in Sleep - Theories. _Amer. Jour. of Psychol._, vol. xii, pp. 145-177, 1901. - - FRENSBURG, DR. J.: Schlaf und Traum. Article in: _Sammlung_ (R. - Virchow und Fr. v. Holkendorff), 20th Series, Bk. 466, Berlin, 1885. - - FREUD, S.: Die Traumdeutung. Leipsic, 1909. - - GEMELLI, AGNOSTINO: Fatti ed ipotesi nello studio del sonno. _Rivista - di fisica mat. e sci. Nat._, vol. xiv, pp. 48-77, Pavia, 1906. - - HALL, W. W.: Sleep—or: The Hygiene of the Night. First edition 1861, - New York (5 or 6 editions), one edition 1870, published by Hurd and - Houghton, New York. - - HEUBEL, E.: _Pflüger’s Archiv_, xiv, S. 186. - - JASTROW, J.: The Subconscious, Chapter on Dream-consciousness, pp. - 175-265. 1906. - - JUDD, C. H.: _Psychology_, Pt. I., Chapter xiv, pp. 337 et seq. Giving - a clear account of sleep in relation to other states of consciousness, - 1907. - - KOHLSCHUTTER: Messungen der Festigkeit des Schlafes, _Zeitschrift für - rationelle Medicin_, 1863; Mechanik des Schlafes, _Zeitsch. f. r. M._, - 1869. (His results are very similar to those of Michelson in Art. - Tiefe des Schlafes.) - - LAFITTE, JEAN PAUL: Pourquoi dormons nous? (_Rev. d. mois_, vol. ii, - Année 1, No. 10, pp. 461-475.) - - MACNISH, ROBERT: The Philosophy of Sleep. London, 1838. - - MANACÉÏNE, M. DE: Sleep. Walter Scott Ltd., London, 1897. (The - Contemp. Sc. Series.) - - MICHAELIS, ADOLF ALFRED, 1854: Der Schlaf nach seiner Bedeutung für - den gesunden und kranken Menschen. Eine physiologisch-pathologische - Abhandlung. Leipzig, 1894. - - MICHELSON, EDWARD: Untersuchungen über die Tiefe des Schlafes, - _Psycholog. Arbeiten_, vol. ii, pp. 81-117. Leipzig, 1899. - - MOLL, A.: Hypnotism. Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1909. - - MORTIMER, GRANVILLE J.: Sleep and Sleeplessness. S. E. Cassino, 1881. - Boston. D. Bogue, London. - - OPPENHEIMER, Z.: Zur Physiol. des Schlafes. _Archives f. Anatomie u. - Physiol._ 1902, Leipzig. - - PARISH, E.: Hallucinations and Illusions. Scribner’s Sons. New York, - 1897. - - PHILIP, A. P. W.: An Inquiry Into the Nature of Sleep and Death. - London, 1834. - - PICTON, NINA: The Panorama of Sleep; or Soul and Symbol. Philosophic - Co., New York, 1903. - - PIERON, HENRI: La Polygenèse des états de sommeil (Assoc. française p. - l’avancement de sci. Compte rendu pt. 2). Notes et mém. Paris, 1908, - Sess. 36 (1907), pp. 672-678. - - PILEZ, ALEXANDRE: Quelques contributions à la psychol. du - sommeil chez les sains d’esprit et chez les aliénés. _Annales - médico-psychologiques._ Sér. 8, vol. ix, pp. 66-75. Paris, 1899. - - La Plasticité des Neurones et la mécanisme du Sommeil. _Bull. de la - Soc. d’Anthrop. de Bruxelles_, vol. xv, 1896-7. - - POWELL, REV. LYMAN PIERCE: The Art of Natural Sleep,—with different - directions for the wholesome cure of sleeplessness. G. P. Putnam’s - Sons, 1908. - - PREYER, W.: Ueber die Ursache des Schlafes. 1877. - - ROSENBAUM, E.: Warum müssen wir schlafen? - Eine neue Theorie des Schlafes. Berlin, O. Hirschwald, 1892. - - SCHLEICH, KARL LUDWIG: Schlaf und Traum. _Die Zukunft_, Jahrg. 8, vol. - xxix, pp. 14-27. Berlin, 1899. - - SCHULTZ, PAUL: Schlaf und Ermüdung, _Deutsche Rev._, Jahrg. 24, vol. - iii, pp. 81-92. Stuttgart, 1899. - - SIDIS, BORIS: An Experimental Study of Sleep. Badger, Boston, 1909. - - STILES, PERCY G.: Theories of Sleep, _Pop. Sci. Monthly_, vol. lxiii, - pp. 432-438. New York, 1903. - - STRÜMPELL, A.: _Pflüger’s Archiv_, xv, S. 573. Contains an account of - Caspar Hauser, mentioned on p. 78 of this book. - - SURBLED: Les Théories du Sommeil, _Rev. d. questions scientif._, Sér. - 2, vol. xviii (1900), pp. 40-78. - - TAYLOR, J. MADISON: Sleep and Its Regulation, _Pop. Sci. Monthly_, vol. - lxvii, pp. 409-422. New York, 1905. - - TUKE, D. HACK: Articles on “Sleep” and “Dreaming” in _Dict. of - Psychological Medicine_, 1892. - - WEYER, EDWARD M.: “Dreams,” in _Forum_, May, 1911. - - WEYGANDT, WILHELM: Experimentelle Beiträge zur Psychologie des - Schlafes, _Zeitschr. für Psychol. und Physiol. d. Sinnesorgane_, vol. - xxxix, pp. 1-41. Leipzig, 1905. - - WUNDT, W.: Grundzüge der physiologischen Psychologie, cap. xix, Schlaf - und Traum. - - -SOME OTHER BOOKS AND MONOGRAPHS USED IN THE PREPARATION OF “THE -GIFT OF SLEEP.” - -CAMP, CARL D.: Morbid Sleepiness, _Jour. Abnormal -Psychology_, 1907. - -ELWIN, FOUNTAIN HASTINGS: Mens Corporis. - -FLETCHER, HORACE: The A. B. Z. of Our Nutrition. - -GRANVILLE, MORTIMER: Sleep and Sleeplessness. - -HAMMOND, W. A.: Sleep and Its Derangements. - -HASKELL, N. W.: Perfect Health: How to Get It and How to Keep It, by -One Who Has It. - -METCHNIKOFF: The Nature of Man. - The Prolongation of Life. - -MCCARTHY, D. J.: Narcolepsy, _Amer. Jour. Medical Science_, 1900. - -QUACKENBOS, JOHN D., A.M., M.D.: Hypnotism in Mental and Moral Culture. - -ROWLAND, ELEANOR H.: A Case of Visual Sensations During Sleep, _Jour. -of Philosophical, Psychological, and Scientific Methods_. - -SCHOLZ, F.: Sleep and Dreams. - -THOMPSON, SIR HENRY, M.D.: Diet in Relation to Age and Activity. - -UPSON, DR.: Insomnia and Nerve Strain. - -WORCESTER, MCCOMB, AND CORIAT: Religion and Medicine. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SLEEP *** - -***** This file should be named 64138-0.txt or 64138-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/1/3/64138/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |