many other claimants stand around them stretching out their hands in mute appeal, but they either do not see or, seeing, heed them not.

The late George W. Childs of Philadelphia, so well known for his splendid generosity, tells in a volume of recollections published some time before his death, that during the war he asked a very rich man to contribute some money to a certain relief fund. The wealthy man shook his head and said: "Childs, I can't give you anything. I have worked too hard for my money." Mr. Childs goes on to say that being generous grows on a person just as being mean does, that he himself had worked hard for his money, but always gave in proportion as his ability to give increased, until he found his greatest pleasure in doing good to others.

They that are strong, whether physically, mentally, or financially, are strong not for themselves alone, but ought to share the burdens of the weak. As Shakespeare has said:

"Thyself and thy belongings

Are not thine own.

Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,
Not light them for themselves."

The successful man is in danger of forgetting this. When lifted up to a point of prosperity above his fellows he is apt to think that it is that he may shine for his own sake, and not like the sun, for the necessities of the world.

III. Our limited space will allow the mention of only one more peril attending success, and that is, that in attaining it a man is liable to stunt and dwarf himself. Competition to-day is so keen, the struggle to "get on" is so intense, that a man who goes into business with the purpose of succeeding must go into it over head and ears. The absorbing and feverish devotion which business exacts to-day as the price of success is a serious menace to the highest life of the nation or of individuals. In gaining success it may be questioned whether a man does not lose more than he gains. A recent able writer has

said: "The world is full of men who are atrophied on every side except that through which they are gaining their daily bread-men who have sacrificed to success about everything that makes life worth living." They have no time for books, no time to bring their souls into contact with the best that has been thought and done in the world, no time for travel, no time for friends, no time for religion, no time even for the sweet amenities of home. Their interests are narrowed, their souls. are warped and crippled by thinking of only one order of facts, which order is summed up in the word "business." If the time comes for such men to retire from business they find they have nothing to retire to. Literature, science, religious and philanthropic interests have now no charm or refreshment for them. In the fierce struggle for success the door has been closed that opens upon these fair realms, and now the key cannot be found, or, if found, is so rusty it cannot be used. It is easy for us to see the reason underlying the fact to which President Eliot refers in his address on "The Disadvantages of Present Rich Men," when he says: "I observe that the life of the rich man who has got his money and is a little out of the struggle to get it, becomes dull, monotonous, and uninteresting."

Success in scientific or professional life is likely to be accompanied by the same narrowing process. The case of Darwin, the eminent naturalist, may here be cited, who about the age of thirty lost all pleasure in art, music, and poetry. Shakespeare became so intolerably dull that it nauseated him. "My mind,” he says, "seems to have become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone on which the higher tasks depend, I cannot conceive." It may well be questioned whether in very many cases the price exacted for such success is not more than anyone can afford to pay.

The Whirlpool of Commerce.

REV. GEORGE R. HEWITT, B.D.

OMMERCE is a wide word. In its broadest acceptation it includes every kind of trade or business, from that of the

importer of silks and laces to that of the tin-peddler. Wherever there is an exchange of one commodity for another, or for money, there is commerce.

The origin of commerce is not far to seek. It was born of men's necessities. One man had that which another wanted, and for which he had something to give in exchange. From this want on one side and the spirit of accommodation or of acquisitiveness on the other sprang trade or commerce.

To-day trading has become the great business of the world. Man is a trading animal. He takes to trading like a duck to water. If he has no other commodity to dispose of, he will trade jack-knives with his next neighbor.

The object of all trade to-day, of course, is gain. No man would embark in any business enterprise without the hope of reaping some profit from it. And when a man is once fairly engaged in business it is astonishing how seductive it becomes. The appetite for trading grows by what it feeds on. From small beginnings a man is tempted to branch out indefinitely until he soon comes to have more on his hands than he can comfortably handle; and at last his whole life and thought have to be surrendered to commercial transactions and the making of money. Hence we see the fitness of the title of this chapter. Commerce is like a whirlpool. The danger that besets a man is that he will be drawn deeper and deeper into the whirling vortex of trade, until his business, which should be a means to an end, becomes an end in itself.

Said a young business man to the writer not a great while ago: "I almost envy you your opportunities for study and thought upon high themes. I dislike to be obliged to think incessantly about money-getting. But once in you can't get out."

A man begins by making a little. It seems very easy. Straightway his ambition enlarges. The thought presently floats into his mind, "Why am not I one of those born to be millionaires?" At first a few thousands would have satisfied him, now nothing less than hundreds of thousands will do.

If a man is doing a business of $50,000 per annum at five per cent. he thinks he might increase it to $100,000, and so double his profits. Or if he is doing a $100,000 business he aspires to do a $200,000 business, or if a $200,000 business nothing short of $500,000 will satisfy him. Accordingly he borrows capital, enlarges his plant, employs extra help, puts additional drummers on the road, and by every means endeavors to double his sales. But he soon finds that to keep his enlarged plant running he must offer his goods, or bid for contracts, at a lower figure than formerly. This, coupled with the additional cost of maintaining the larger plant, cuts into his profits; and so it comes to pass that many men find after doubling their sales they have only increased their cares, but have not materially increased their profits. Inordinate ambition to do a big business and get rich quickly wrecks a great many men both physically and financially. Better a small, oldfashioned business with some leisure, contentment, and peace of mind, than a big business with anxiety, excitement, wakeful nights, and nervous collapse.

Not content with a rapid extension of their own business, men, in their eagerness to make money, are too easily seduced into side ventures. They are induced to put a little money into this enterprise and a little into that. Notwithstanding that for every one that grows rich by mere speculation a hundred are made poorer, yet men will invest hopefully in the most doubtful ventures.

One thing a young man should do early in his business career is to resolve to steer clear of a life of speculation. It brings demoralization and ruin to thousands. Moreover,

if he is wise he will think twice before investing the profits of his own business in outside enterprises of which he has no personal knowledge. The Honorable William Whiting, one of the most successful business men in Western Massachusetts, a man of wide experience and observation, in a recent article on "Business Failures" has these words: "The man does best in the long run who sticks to his own business, is chary of outside responsibilities and schemes, and invests his surplus that must go outside safely at six per cent.”

In conclusion: A man had far better make less money than become so involved in business that he can think of nothing else, and at last break down of nervous worry. Beware of the tyranny of trade. Beware of its tightening hold upon your spirit. Trade so as to become more of a man thereby, and not less. The commercial world is a splendid arena for the development of manhood. Men make trade, but trade also makes men. But alas! for one that is made by it five allow themselves to be unmade or marred by it. See to it that commerce does not cramp your soul, nor crush out the nobler sentiments. See that it leaves no disfiguring marks upon you after you have done with it forever. Give manhood the supremacy. Keep business subordinate. Remember the Frenchman's epitaph: "He was born a man, and died a grocer."