are among the tallest of men, closely seconded by Superintendents of Street Cleaning. University Presidents are slightly shorter and are equalled in height by Economists and Sociologists. Psychologists and Philosophers are decidedly shorter, and Musicians can hardly be told from ordinary men. Street Cleaning Superintendents take precedence as to weight, but University Presidents are heavy, a little below Reformers and about equal to Anti-Saloon League officials. Philosophers weigh more than Psychologists, but are twenty pounds below College Presidents. Economists and Sociologists are halfway between. Philosophers marry late, about with Merchants and Presidents of Bar Associations, and have small numbers of children. Some Philosophers even don't marry at all, but successful College Presidents, Economists, and Sociologists have a hundred per cent record in marriage and an average of twice as many children as the last class. They are, in these respects, about in the class with Bank Presidents, Corporation Directors, County Attorneys, and Superintendents of Street Cleaning. In the case of College Presidents, there are special tables to show that those below the average in height, weight, and number of children are, at best, Presidents of small colleges only and not of the great universities. Presumably in other cases, defect puts one at a disadvantage.

John is a little puzzled by these figures. He is not married and has no children. His height and weight offer him a good many undetermined possibilities. He is not quite sure what it is all about. Like his courses, it is over his head. He picks up a popular magazine. On the first page there is a most alluring offer to impart "the subtle principle of success that requires no will power, no exercise, no strength, no energy, no study, no writing, no dieting, no concentration, and no conscious deep breathing." It "does not require that you practice economy, or keep records, or memorize, or read, or learn

anything, or force yourself into any action or invest in any stocks, bonds, books or merchandise." Being human and a little inclined to laziness, John is fired with enthusiasm and rushes to the card catalogue. Unfortunately no department has purchased the book for the shelves, and, a little disgruntled at academic inefficiency, he returns to his magazine.

The advertisement again, and a long list of those who have succeeded by this method: Moses, Cleopatra, Phil Armour, Confucius, Ethelbert Hubbard, Columbus, Darwin, Mahomet, Galli-Curci, Hiram Johnson, and some fifty others. But why haven't any of these guys written testimonials? Do you get your choice as to which of them you turn out to be? It might be interesting to turn out a Moses or a Cleopatra-weren't they in the movies? Or a Darwin or a Columbus-they come in "Hist la." But suppose he came out a Hiram Johnson, and he a good Democrat! The method scatters enough to be dangerous. If a fellow is going to invest two dollars. he wants to know where he is going to end up. Besides, John reflects, he still has to economize, so it may be just as well to keep his two dollars and utilize the materials at hand.

He finds a voluminous and much-read writer, the author of a dozen or two books on "Forging to the Front" and kindred topics. Opening one casually, he reads, "The man who succeeds must always, in mind and imagination, live, move, think, and act as if he had gained success, or he will never gain it." John's sense. of humor suggests that this is exactly the attitude of certain successful fishermen he knows; also, where fishmarkets abound, or where there is kindly coöperation. on the part of the natives-he has coöperated himself; the living, moving, thinking, and acting success need not confine itself to mind and imagination. The author seems not averse to such supplementations. John has tried something like them himself in other fields. But

somehow his efforts to impress the co-eds by dressing like a millionaire in Style-plus clothes were not quite so successful as he had hoped. Perhaps there will be some more useful suggestions farther on.

The list of character-traits the successful man must cultivate, according to this and other writers, is a little confusing. They can be boiled down to will, memory, foresight, and ambition. Self-consciousness and introspection are everywhere listed as archenemies of success, but if experience forces upon you consciousness of defect along any of the lines suggested, there is a considerable list of works by reading which you can overcome the defect. Best of all, there is no charge for lessons. A university library may have some advantages, after all.

Take will. Will, like any muscle, grows by exercise, and, as is true of all muscular development, it is well not to overstrain it by attempting too difficult tasks at the beginning. Determination can be applied to lesser matters as well as greater. John becomes an apostle of will-development. When he enters a room he no longer slides inconspicuously into a seat. No, he picks up his selected chair, puts it down firmly and noisily in a conspicuous position, and begins conversation in a loud penetrating voice that certainly commands attention. He has got so that he can leap from bed on a cold morning with never a shiver, pull on his socks with all the energy the toes will bear, and command his breakfast in tones that make the hasher scuttle. It is all as the books said. But somehow things don't feel quite right. His friends are unaccountably busy these days. A sophomore called him fresh and threatened. . . . It is hard to combine college life and the pursuit of success.

John finds memory a little harder to train than will. His first efforts are not brilliant. Three methods are in vogue. The first requires a memorized key. He is told that he must learn to associate each letter of the

alphabet with a certain number, then, when introduced to Mr. Smith, he is to reflect casually that the letters of Smith are numbered 19, 13, 9, 20, and 8, while murmuring a conventional "This is a great pleasure, Mr. Smith." The sum of these numbers is 69, which is 3 times 23, a proverbial number for bad luck. If he can then recall some fact concerning which Mr. Smith has been unlucky three times, the eternal remembrance is fixed. Meanwhile he may have been conversing casually about the weather, or politics.

John is not a very good lightning calculator and all this is, as it sounds, a little difficult. Perhaps the method would be better applied to recalling dates. He tries 1492. The digits represent a, d, i, b, which, of course, stand for "Anna dances indescribably badly." On looking the matter up he finds that Columbus did not have a ship called the Santa Ana, but he might have had, and the Santa María ends in a. Also she undoubtedly danced very badly in crossing the Atlantic, if that ocean is anything like the ocean outside the Golden Gate. The key, then, will work.

His friend, a "Math." shark, tells him that the other methods are pretty hard on the imagination, and one is in far greater danger of going wrong. When you meet Mr. Jones you observe that, like a giraffe, he has a very long neck. Then think of a zoological garden and how Jones would look reaching that long neck up into a tree of which the branches spell the word Jones! The danger is that next time you may recall a tree whose branches spell Smith. His friend says such accidents really do happen and the key method is best. He does not like either one very well and finds something more congenial, because more familiar, about the third method, that of rhyming verses.

Of course such verses have their faults. When Kipling's Painted Jaguar tries to recall his mother's rhyme,

Can't curl, but can swim,
Slow-Solid, that's him!
Curls up, but can't swim,
Stickly-Prickly, that's him!

and gets

Can't curl, but can swim,

Stickly-Prickly, that's him!
Curls up, but can't swim,

Slow-Solid, that's him!

he is much discomfited by the practical results. So much John has learned from an English course. Must he take a course in poetry-writing to equip himself? Perhaps not. His book gives the example:

In 1861, the American Civil War begun,

and after a little head-scratching he succeeds in achieving:

December twenty-first, my worst exam. am,

and feels himself launched on a literary career. Kipling isn't so much after all, when a fellow gets down to business.

The problem of developing foresight and ambition calls forth far more brilliant oratory from the success authors, but the method is less precise. John learns that most people are confused by the complexities of situations, but the world is fundamentally order, and order is essentially simple. This is demonstrated by the discoveries of science. Given one or two simple principles, and any problem, moral, physical, or mixed, is solved. He notes the order of furniture in his room. He learns that a reception involves nothing but entering, making an impression, and leaving. Never hesitate. Act. He practices on the restaurant bill of fare until his pocket book gets lamentably low. Yet he is told in this way lies business triumph. Success and foresight will thus demonstrate themselves in him. But why don't they begin?