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My Best Self by Dane Allred

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Audio of this piece is available at the bottom of the post.

Welcome to Abundance, a program of 1001 Thanks.  This is a celebration of the good things happening in your life and the world.  I am your host, Dane Allred.  I believe you can change your life and the world by celebrating the joy, the happiness, the positive parts of this wonderful journey we call life.

In just a moment, we'll be discussing a presentation I give called “My Best Self”.  In ten parts, I document how we know when we are being our best selves.  Each of the letters of the “My Best Self” phrase represents one of the qualities which helps us be our best selves.

How  do we know if we are being our "Best Selves"?

The “M” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Makes a difference.

Now you need to know that you , individually you; the person I'm talking to right now; you do make a difference.  There is a reason you are here at this time and this place.  Someone once said it this way, “Being you is so difficult that no one in the universe has ever attempted it before.”  Now when you find the purpose for your life, you will see the difference you can make in the lives of others and in this world.  And now that I think about it, since I’ve injured myself so many times, the purpose of my life may only be to serve as a warning to others.  If I can make that difference, it may save you from stabbing yourself in the hand with a spading pitchfork, getting a free bath in the carwash, or from being stranded on a windsurfer overnight on Utah Lake.

That's why the “Y” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Yearns to be better

We all yearn to be better, to be more than we are.  We may measure our success against the successes of others, but the person we really need to be compared to is ourselves – the person we were yesterday.  Can we ask ourselves, and answer this question honestly, are we better today than yesterday?

It would seem to me that this journey of how to be better would have an ending, where we end up being our best selves, but due to the vicissitudes  of life, we become better at some things.  We lose our ability to do other things.

So your yearning to be better might need to be associated with limitation.  Like the time I saw a student do a back-flip on-stage I remembered that I could do back flips when I was young.  Now smacking my face on the stage halfway through the flip reminded me I am 30 years older and 50 pounds heavier than my back flip days.  This isn’t to say I couldn’t do back flips again, but that time may have passed.

You know what you want to be better at.  You really do, and that nagging guilt and conscience that tells you "I need to work on this"; that's what you're yearning for, and you probably also know what you need to do to get to that point.  If you aren’t sure what you want to be better at, you might want to find someone who can point out to you your talents.  Then decide how to be better; you can get a coach, take lessons, go back to school, just focus and do it.  You know what you want.  Get out there and get it done.  That's why we're blessed with all this abundance.

Now the “B” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Believes in my potential

Once you know what you want to do or what you can do, believing in your own potential is the next step.  Self-doubt has shot down many more dreams than someone saying “no” to your idea.  A lot of times we'll say no to ourself thousands of times before we actually give somebody else the opportunity to say no, in the fear that they may say "Yes".  Believe in yourself, because no one else has your potential, your goals, your vision.  Who else can accomplish what you are here to do?

The “E” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Entertains new ideas

To be your best self, you may have to entertain some new ideas.  For example, I was the first in my family to graduate from college.  That new idea gave me the opportunities I have today, and since I believed in myself and my potential, there really never was a time when I didn’t think I would graduate and be gainfully employed.  Again, there were challenges to that, called job interviews, and I did wind up working out of state for a couple of years because I had to go where the opportunities were.  But there was a time when it became a new idea to me, and I can even recall when this happened.  The ASVAB test is given by the armed services; I believe it stands for the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery.  This test  predicted I had the mechanical aptitude to be in the service.  So I got lots of mail from the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and that's one of the reasons they give the test is so they can get recruits.  But thanks to that test, which also included an interest survey, I was told I could be a lawyer.  This new idea had never occurred to me, and once planted, I knew I could do it.  But that would involve college, and so I had to finagle my way into an AP History and AP English class.  That way I could get some college credit while I was still in high school.  Combined with the College Level Education Program tests, the CLEP tests I took in college, I tested out of a year of school.  I finished my undergraduate degree in three years.

The strange thing about this whole process is, remember, this idea led me to college, but then another new idea presented itself to me.  I enjoyed my student teaching so much; I never again wanted to be a lawyer.  That doesn’t mean you can’t be a lawyer if that idea has captured your imagination.  So be open to the new ideas that appear in your life.  Your potential is trying to get your attention.

The “S” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Strives for perfection

Once you have chosen a path, there’s no reason really not to be the very best at what you do.  Being our best selves means not being our second best self.  It doesn't mean we have to be better than somebody else but we're always striving to perfect what we do.  If we dig ditches, there may be some new technique you may discover that will change the world of ditch digging.  Search for the new ways, there's new techniques, there's new approaches.  There's always going to be a demand for those who have new innovations, and if you have that new idea, it may be time to share it with the world.  Remember, you are here for a reason.  Find it, and perfect yourself, and perfect the world.  We all need it.

So how?  How do we do this?  This is where the next step applies.

The “T” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Trusts in the Creative

This is where your higher power, if it's God, Allah, Vishnu, even just a concept of supreme being or creator, even if you have no religious tradition, I believe you can connect with your creative side; this has been called inspiration or the muses.  As you seek new ideas, trust in your inner creativity to connect with this higher power.  It'll give you an inspiring, new or creative idea.

Where did that idea come from, is what we need to ask ourselves?  If you think it came from you, that’s fine with me, but I believe each of us is a channel for the creative process to manifest itself in this universe.  If you talk to authors, lyricists, musicians, dancers, choreographers, and other creative people, you'll often hear of the process of creativity described as a collaboration and sometimes even just "notation-taking".  The end result is often much different than anticipated by the artist, and this creativity is an exciting chance for you to connect with whatever it is that guides our creativity.

Now I'll give you an example.  I once wrote a murder mystery which was hi-jacked by one of the minor characters.  It was supposed to be about a high school teacher, but instead the teacher ends up being a minor character in the plot and the local police officer actually becomes the hero and center of the story.  Writing is an amazing process which I enjoy immensely, but I would never take all the credit for what I write.  It’s not just me.  I will never take the credit for the collaboration I have as I create, and I don’t know how; I don't know why it works, but I am grateful to receive the help because most of the time I really need it.

So if you'll just trust that creative ideas will come to you; ways and means to implement the reasons, the ideas, the purposes you have for being here; I actually believe it will be manifest in your life.  I know it sound really short-sighted to say it in such a simple way, but I really have no other way to describe it besides, "Go out and do it.  Try it and see if it works for you."

The “S” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Succeeds and celebrates success

This second "S" may seem like a contradiction.  If we credit a higher power with help in creativity, why would we celebrate a success that is not wholly ours?  Think about the last person you tried to compliment.  Did they accept the praise, or did they try to deflect it?  Celebrating success means taking credit for the successes you've had up to this point.  You need to think about what has led you to this point.  There is a string of success trailing behind you.  To deny those minor and major victories cheapens the work you've done so far in this life.  Remember, to be alive and kickin' today when there's people in this world who weren't alive and kickin' this morning when they tried to wake up.  These are victories we need to celebrate along the way.

Reward yourself and accept that praise.  Even if you don't believe it, just say, “Thank you.”  That small validation really goes a long way to help you on your way to your future success.  We don't want to deny the compliments of other people.  It's a really bad human tendency.  If we can accept compliments and give compliments, I think celebration of those successes are very, very good.  If I can just figure out a way to stop celebrating my successes with food, I'll be in really good shape.    When I have a success, that's one of my favorite things to do; is to buy something and eat it.

The “E” in “My Best Self”, the second "E", stands for:

Expects great things to happen

An expectation of success is really key to achievement.  Self-doubt short circuits the path you need to follow to make ideas succeed, and doubts usually involve some kind of past failures.

So rather than doubt yourself, think about this phrase.  When they say “Today is the first day of the rest of your life”, this means this new day is the only day given to you to use.  This day.  You can’t access tomorrow yet, and to let the past shackle today is to deny the miracle of waking up another day.

So expect some great things.  There's a reason you woke up today.  Expect that great things will manifest themselves in your life.  Write them down.  Contemplate them.  Improve them.  Expect those things, and do things in your life to make them happen.

The “L” in “My Best Self” stands for:

Learns from everyone

Without a human connection, and without admitting that we can learn from everyone, I think you have sold short your biggest asset in this universe.  If it was just me, if it was just you that was here to do stuff, there wouldn't be a reason for all these other people.

I know there are people who think they know it all.  I think this is a really sad attitude, because  I have learned something from every person I have ever met, if I was paying attention.  Now if I’m not paying attention, I might miss one of the major lessons about to be given to me that day.

For the last few days, it's been my great blessing to notice many other people succeeding with what some people would call a handicap.  These are people who are "handicapable" if that's your choice of words.

I'm not sure why all of these people were presented to me this week, but in an amazing collection of “coincidences”, the dozen people I saw during this last week inspired me to think about how blessed my life really is.

I have full use of all of my limbs; which may surprise some of you who have listened to my “adventures”.  My health is good.  I have a good diet.  I have access to medication.  I have  doctors if I need them.  And again, we take more things for granted each day than anyone in the ancient world ever could have imagined.  It’s time to start paying attention and learn from the person standing in front of us.

What can we learn?  What's the lesson being taught by the words, actions and life of the people we meet each day?  Some of them may just be negative lessons, and we'll determine that's something we don't want to be in our life. Have we learned what they are trying to teach us?  I believe they must be in our lives for some reason.  This includes people you may  not be happy are in your life.  Let’s take some time and learn from them and maybe we can get on to the next lesson.

To get a little less serious for a second here, I'm going to summarize "My Best Self" by going to the “F” in “My Best Self”.  I'm not sure why it came out this way, but the "F" in "My Best Self" stands for:

Fearlessly forges forcefully forward

I really believe the old axiom, "If you're not moving forward, you're going backward,"  so fearlessly forge forcefully forward.

While the frequent use of the letter “F” may be the only thing you notice about the last part of “My Best Self”, this may be one of the most important parts.  Fear really is something that paralyzes us into inaction.  We're afraid to approach someone; we're afraid to try a new idea; we're afraid to do whatever it is that's causing that fear.  Fear paralyzes us into that inaction, and how can we be our best self if we are unable to act on the ideas we are given?

Here's a few other "F" words to try and help you understand how to forge fearlessly and forcefully forward.

Ferociously facilitates foresighted, foundational, futuristic, flawless focus; forever.

Which to me means don't get distracted.  There's plenty of things in this world to help us be distracted.  Surprisingly, a lot of those things tend to be on television, and on our computer, and on the Internet, and on the radio.  Focus and don't get distracted.

I also believe furthermore, feverishly factoring future fundamentally feeble-minded frugality is important.  We realize that everyone in the world does have a budget and you're going to have to understand what's available to you; what you can do and can't do because of frugality; maybe the frugality of somebody else; maybe your own frugality.  Maybe our income is only limited by the amount of money we think we should make.  Maybe our potential is only limited by the potential we feel we really have.

Also, I think some "F"'s that would help us are

we "Foresees favorable feedback which fosters fertile futures."

I really seriously believe in being positive.  It really is more than just my blood type.  If you're positive, and you think about  favorable, fertile futures, I think those things tend to manifest themselves in your life if you'll give them a chance to take root.

Negativity, doubt, all of those things can really short circuit a lot of this process.

I think you should "forecast fumbling, fanatical, fixated ferocity from formidable factionaries."

To me that just means,  anticipate some opposition.  Be glad for that opposition, because unless we bounce our ideas off someone else and they make us defend what we're thinking about embracing in our lives; maybe their feedback is really what we need.  But again, we are not going to let their negativity stop us from doing what we need to do.

I think that things like this fascinate future feckless, feeble-minded, fickle, fawning, full-blooded freaks.

If you can make it interesting I think there's are a lot of people who are going to try to find out what's going on with that.  For some reason, things that are interesting give us some distraction, but also give us some enjoyment.  So, I can't think of another reason why, as I was pursuing one of my great distractions this week, cruising around on YouTube, why a website called Brainiac would explode watermelons with dynamite in slow motion to classical music.  It was very interesting to watch, but again, there's a lot of things people will watch just because they want to see it.

We're talking about "My Best Self" and focusing on finally the "F" of "My Best Self".  This program is meant to emphasize the positive and I hope we're having a good time today raising your spirits on Abundance with Dane Allred.  Today we've been talking about "My Best Self" and we are about to finish up what is the "F" in "My Best Self".  I've been tossing around a few "F" words, but not the kind you're thinking of.

I think that if you are your "Best Self" you would frequently foster formal, full on, full out, full-tilt, full-circle, full blown, full-bore, forward-looking freedom for faithful fellows.

What that all means is I think you would really encourage others.  If "Your Best Self" is not encouraging the ideas of other people, I'm not sure that is "Your Best Self".

We've already discussed distractions so you do need to factor frequent fantasies from fumbling, flabbergasted fools. Watch for those fantasies, don't let them distract you.

Fanatically feature familiar face-to-face fictions, which means you may need to tell your story to somebody over and over again to help inspire them.  We used that word inspire earlier in the program and if you think about the way we use the word inspiration, we not only use "inspire" and "expire" as a way to describe breathing in and breathing out.

But, a breath of fresh air, "inspiration", can be something that comes and rejuvenates us.

So make sure you are inspiring and rejuvenating those people who are supporting you.  Fervently, fervidly, foster fantasy, fluency, faithfulness, familiarity, fastidiousness, fearlessness, fortitude, forgiveness, felicity, friendliness, functionality, and forthrightness in those friendly followers.  In other words, help them be their best selves.

Even though I don't like to get into negative talk too much, I would ask you to forbid fright, fumbling, fear, fatalism, fuming, foreswearing, forsaking, feigning, frustration, flouncing, fleering, flashiness, forlornness, fraudulence, flippancy, frailty, flattery, foolishness, and fearfulness.

I believe those all short-circuit your reason for being here.

As we sit and talk about our best self, I'm going to finish up explaining maybe why some of my adventures might seem really foolhardy to some of you out there.  In future editions of Abundance we'll be discussing how to be our best self, but I would discuss just briefly why it is maybe you can dismiss all the things I talk about because when you have no brain you have no pain.

I flunked the same English class twice, and that's another reason why you could say, "Well, this guy can't even pass an English class, I'm not sure why I'm listening to him."

But this may be the best reason for you to go ahead and discount any of this that may be inspiring to you, but you don't really want to go act on it.

I used to be the victim of frequent sinus infections.  I would go in to the doctor once or twice a year and get some antibiotics.  The doctor wanted to try and figure out what was exactly wrong with my sinuses.

I wouldn't recommend this because it really has changed  my life.  If the doctor asks to x-ray your head, put some serious thought into that.

What he had me do was tip my head back, my chin up in the air, and he took an x-ray of the top of my skull.  If you feel up above your eyebrows, your sinuses go to about that part of your head.  If you've had a sinus headache, you've had pain right there, and you know what I'm talking about. They're pictured on television with all of these sinus remedies and all the different kinds of things that can help you with those.  I have to tell you that I am personally acquainted with nearly every kind of anti-histamine and allergy medications ever been made.

Once the doctor took this picture, he came back shaking his head.  He had this picture in his hand of my skull, and he said, "This is the picture of your sinuses."

And I said, "Well, what's wrong?"

He said, "Well, you know how most people have sinuses up to their eyebrows?"  He said, "You've got sinuses all the way up to your receding hairline", which explained quite a bit.

I mean if you think about it, if you've got more sinuses, then you're going to have more sinus infections, more ability to gather all kinds of the nasty stuff that gives us infections.  But the reason I'm really not going to encourage you to have your doctor inform you about your own head x-rays.

Think about this.  I have extra sinuses, and I don't have a fantastically huge head, so logical reasoning follows that I think  I have less brains than everybody else, too, because there's only so much space up there.

Stabbing yourself in the hand, getting stuck on a windsurfer in the middle of Utah Lake, skiing down a mountain-side on rocks, skiing down a mountainside in snow without any skiing instruction, and all the various ways I've hurt myself probably have good reason now.  If you think about that, it doesn't take much brain to throw yourself into the air and flip your body around and land on your cheekbone because somebody you saw is doing a back flip and you "used could do those, too".  I "used could", too .

As we think about our abilities and freedoms, I really want you to think about what you need to accomplish this week.   Confront those fears you have about doing those things. I need you to go out and find all the reasons we have to be thankful for this abundant life.  I believe you can change your life and the world by celebrating that joy, that happiness and those positive parts of this wonderful journey we call life.

Abundance is a way to emphasize what we like in our life.  We want to eliminate the negativity and pessimism; we're really trying to accentuate the positive.

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The Lion and the Mouse by Dane Allred

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The lion finds out how valuable a small friend can be, in this retelling of the Aesop fable.  Dane Allred has rewritten and narrates this version of the fable.

The Lion and the Mouse

by Dane Allred

As the King of the Forest, the Lion knew he needed the help of no one. He could hunt and capture his own food, send invaders away from his territory, and have whatever he wanted. After a long day of hunting, the Lion was hot and tired, so he relaxed under a large tree, stretched out and fell asleep.

The mice who lived under the tree in the deep roots heard a snoring sound from above. They cautiously crept out of their home and saw the Lion, the King of the Beasts was sleeping, just inches away from them! At first, they were frightened since they knew the Lion ruled this part of the jungle, and no one dared challenge his authority. After creeping slowly closer, the mice realized the Lion was sound asleep.

At first, one of the bravest mice reached out and touched the Lion. Then he ran back to his brothers and sisters, who laughed at his foolishness. When they realized the Lion was still deep in sleep, all of the mice began to climb and play on the Lion.

As the bravest mouse tickled the whiskers of the great Lion and he awoke with a start. The mice scattered, but the Lion was quick and slapped his paw over the brave little mouse. Squeaking with his little voice as the Lion pinched his tail and lifted the mouse towards his mouth, the mouse said, “Great King of the Jungle, you do not want to eat me!! I am such a little mouse. “

The Lion laughed, but the mouse was still dangling over the large mouth of the Lion.

“I know, “said the mouse quickly. “Spare my life now and I will repay this debt by saving your life.”

This made the Lion laugh even louder. “You cannot save me, the master of this land. You are such a little mouse and I need hope from no one. You have given me a great laugh, and since I have had a good long day of hunting, my stomach is full, and such a little morsel as you, well, it is not worth the trouble even to chew you up.” He dropped the mouse and went back to sleep.

The mouse ran back to his home, grateful to be alive.

As the Lion slept, hunters walked by and wondered at their good fortune to see a lion asleep under a tree. They threw a net over the Lion quickly.

The Lion struggled under the net, and could not believe he was being captured by these little humans. But there were too many of them, and soon he found himself tied to the tree. The men left to find a cage for the lion.

The Lion could not understand how all of this had happened so quickly. He roared a loud roar, and the brave little mouse emerged again from under the tree.

“Little mouse!” roared the Lion. “Men have captured me. What am I to do?”

The mouse crawled bravely up the rope and said, “I promised to save your life, and I am happy to chew through this rope so you may go free. But who thought I would be able to repay the debt so soon!!”

The mouse chewed so quickly, the Lion was free in an instant.

The lion turned to his new little friend, and said “You have taught me a great lesson this day.”

“What is that?” said the mouse.

The mighty lion said, “Little friends can be great friends.”

The Lion and the Mouse, as adapted by Dane Allred.

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What is Abundance?

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Welcome to Abundance, a program of 1001 Thanks.  This is a celebration of the good things happening in your life and the world.  I am your host, Dane Allred.  I believe you can change your life and the world by celebrating the joy, the happiness, the positive parts of this wonderful journey we call life.

I thought today on Abundance we would go ahead and try and define what I think Abundance is -- a couple of words pop into my mind as I try and decide what my life philosophy is and how it's reflected in the things that I do and the things that I say.

I think the Abundance I'm speaking of in this life has a lot to do with compassion for other people, their situations, for all kinds of things that happen in the world and especially for people whose are in circumstances beyond their control.  I think a lot of times that can be helped with humor, and you know humor plays a big part in my life.

I also believe tolerance and forgiveness are excellent ways to make the more abundant life happen in your neck of the woods.

Today, as we talk about Abundance, you may be wondering what does Dane Allred mean when he says "Abundance".

Well, to me, my life is full.  I have an abundance of what many cultures have defined as a full life.  For peoples of the past to imagine our lives would have been impossible.

Think of this.  Most of us have never spent a day in hunger.  When we sleep at night, many of us sleep soundly and securely.  We spend lifetimes that are two, three and four times longer than our ancestors.  We have luxuries unknown in the past.

I am blessed with having a loving wife and children as well as a supportive extended family.  My wife and daughters have opportunities denied to woman since the beginning of civilization.  As a people, we can move freely anywhere we choose;  we can choose where we live; we can choose where we work, and to me, in this world of abundance, it seems our opportunities are only limited by our creativity.

One of the measures of abundance is modern technology and if you think about it, most of the modern technology that we have today are marvels which would have been like miracles to anyone from the past.  For example, I communicate with my family on a cellular phone, which means if my mother is on a boat on a lake and she has her phone, I can contact her.  I can ask how the fishing is today. Think of all the things a modern day cellular phone can do, just by itself.  It has a calendar; it has games; it receives and sends instant messages.  I can compose my thoughts; I can write with a stylus or a small keyboard; those important ideas are preserved; instead in the past maybe lost forever.  On my phone I can access the internet.  I can contact Google or Wikipedia for instant answers to my questions and I don’t have to ask somebody else, and I don't have to go to the library, or continue in ignorance.  The world really is at my fingertips, and not many of us really appreciate the fact that we have such an abundance of information in our reach, but maybe it is because there is so much that we are kind of overloaded.

I don’t fear the dreaded diseases of the past, wondering if they are going to take me or my family without warning.  Even when my wife was diagnosed with stage four bone cancer fifteen years ago, the best treatments available were used since I am part of a risk-pool, and so insurance provides the money for the cures.  Now she lives today because we live in this modern world.

Another example, My sister was spared with a liver transplant.  I am the beneficiary of several types of modern medications which regulate my blood pressure, my allergies and even the size of my prostate.  And I know that may be too much information, but if you consider the state of medicine even two centuries ago, blood-letting was the most common and most popular treatment for ailments, and for those who are unfamiliar with the process, blood-letting means you probably have too much blood; let's let some out and see if you get better.

Just think about the marvels of the modern world.  I can speed across counties and states.  I can fly to other nations in hours if I wish, instead of counting the journeys in days or months.  Now, I have visited places in the world most of the present population of the world today will only be able to read about, even if they can read.  I intend to visit many more.

I am also a citizen of a country which protects the rights of all, not just a selected few.  So I think freedoms are part of our abundance. I have been given opportunities that somebody in my social position would never have been given in other times and other countries.

Because of college scholarships and grant monies that is paid for by taxes, I was able to go to college, and now I'm a high school and college teacher.

Now I am able because of those opportunities to earn a good living for my family. I pay taxes.  I support my government, the police, the military, the public services, public education, and I am so blessed to live in a place where I can say and I can write what I wish without government censorship.

So, when we talk about Abundance, it's not just the things we have, the freedoms we enjoy, but also, the ability we have to make a difference.

Believe it or not, I am actually really grateful for work.  Many of us in the modern day define ourselves by our work. I'd be a much different person without my opportunity to work and satisfying day of work is one of the most rewarding parts of my life, and it's because I enjoy my work and I hope you do something that you enjoy, too.

So, basically, as we look at the abundance of the world and the universe, I'm only limited by my imagination how I want to spend my life.  I have leisure time unimagined even by kings of the past.  I enjoy work so much I have invented other work for myself.  I buy and sell things on eBay.  I have thousands of satisfied customer ratings.  I teach part-time at a local university.  I've written an online public speaking course.  I've written quotations books, mystery novels, an auto-biography of the fifty ways I've injured myself.  I have a website.

I have time, because of our modern economy and the shortened work day, I am able to perform things like a one-man show of Mark Twain and Charles Dickens.  I regularly post on a website read by hundreds of thousands of people every day.  I'm paid to perform in commercials, movies, stage plays and musicals and I've been in over 30 movies and more than 70 stage productions.  I've been in world premiere shows.  I've sung on an original cast album.  I've won awards as a gardener, a poet, a teacher.

I've run three marathons and lots of footraces.  I was privileged to run the Olympic Flame for the 2002 Winter Olympics.  With all the other careers I've had in life as flower and package deliverer.  I've been a gas station attendant.  Most of my life has been spent teaching high school and college students.

And I cannot read the list of these opportunities that I have been given in my life without wondering why I have been blessed when others, and millions and hundreds of millions and billions of others of people live lives of poverty and oppression, sometimes only because they were born halfway around the world from here.

So I know that one of my life’s purposes is to proclaim my thanks for all my blessings.  I'm going to concentrate on the positive and to do otherwise would really be to be an ungrateful recipient of all this bounty.

And that's what really led me to create this show, Abundance, and I have a list of 1001 thanks.  It's the 1001 things I have listed that remind me why I should keep a positive attitude and try to inspire others to see the good in the world, instead of focusing on the negative.

My life hasn't been a bed of roses.  I could complain about my aches and pains.  Like I said, I've written a book about the fifty ways I've injured myself, and I didn't do this to catalog the misery of my short fifty years on the planet.  It's to remind me I am still alive and kicking. I should be grateful for every day that I have been given and I hope to inspire in you this same optimism, to help you realize the bounty of this corner of the universe.  Together there really is nothing we cannot accomplish.

I am not here to urge you to ignore the problems of your life, or the problems of the world.  But I seriously believe carping, negativism and blaming will never solve anything.  So join me on this journey to document our thanks.

Next time -- My Best Self

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What is Abundance?

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

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The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

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Wilford Woodruff sermon

President, brethren and sisters: God bless you, (Amen), and may the

peace of God abide with you, and the Spirit of God within these walls,

and may it rest upon the Apostles, Elders and Saints while we assemble

together to worship God. I feel in my heart to praise the Lord for his mercies

and blessings over the Apostles and Elders and Saints and church and

kingdom of God to the present hour. I see before me here the symbols of

the history of this church and kingdom, and some of us have been preserved

by the hand of God to pass through its travels, its progress and its

history almost from the beginning until the present day; and while I listened

to the remarks of Brother Taylor, I reflected in my own mind upon the day

and age and time of our history. Fifty years have passed and gone, or

nearly so, since the organization of this church and kingdom on the earth.

Whatever the feelings of the world may be with regard to the Latter-day

Saints, with regard to their lives, their history, their organization, their persecutions,

and their drivings until the present day, whether they believe or

disbelieve, it matters not to the purposes of God, who stands at the head,

even our Heavenly Father. This is the church and kingdom of God; it is

the church of Christ; it is the organization of the kingdom of God, that has

been spoken of by all the prophets since the world began; it is the Zion of

God that Isaiah and Jeremiah and many of the other prophets saw by vision

and revelation in their day and generation. In my own mind I cannot conceive

of any fifty years since the creation of this world, in its history before the

heavens, before the Gods, before the angels, and before the world, of more

importance or consequence than the last fifty years through which we have

passed ; and if the vail could only be lifted from our eyes, so that we could see

and comprehend our destiny, our position, our responsibilities, and what is

required at our hands by the God of Israel, we should all of us feel the importance

of improving our time, magnifying our calling, striving to live by every

word that proceedeth forth from the mouth of God.

I hold in my hand our testament. The testator is dead, has been dead for

a great many years. He sealed his testimony with his blood. That testament

is in force, has been in force upon all the world from the day of his death ; and

not only from that day, but from the time these revelations were given to the

inhabitants of the earth. That testament contains a volume of the most important

revelations God ever gave to man. Fifty years ago, or nearly so, when

He gave some of these revelations, the Lord said to Joseph Smith, " If you

believe my words you will go and prune my vineyard while the day lasts; If

you believe these revelations I have given you, you will take hold and build up

this kingdom." When I reflect that it is fifty years since these revelations

were given, I ask myself the question—What condition are we in to-day as a

people, as Latter-day Saints? What is our condition, our position to-day

before the Lord? What is the condition of the world? What is the condition

of Great Babylon? What is the condition of the Saints, the Elders of Israel,

and the Lord's anointed, and the people whom he has chosen and called upon

and raised up to take hold and build up Zion, build up the kingdom, sanctify

themselves before God and prepare themselves for the coming of the Son of

man? I have sometimes feared in my own mind concerning ourselves, that we

are not living as near to the Lord as we ought to do ; we do not always comprehend

the responsibilities which we are under to God our Heavenly Father.

When I reflect, my brethren and sisters, that the Lord has ordained the establishment

of Zion, upon the responsibility that rests upon us in warning the generation

in which we live that they may be left without excuse in fulfilment of

the revelations contained in this volume (the Book of Mormon)—when I reflect

that we are called as the servants of the Lord to perform this work, I feel

within my own mind as the Lord has said now nearly fifty years ago, that if we

believe the words of the Lord we will labor while it is called to-day. The

Lord looks to nobody else, he expects nothing from anybody else, as far as the

fulfilling of the revelations in the Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants

are concerned ; he looks to no other nation, kindred, tongue, or people

henceforth to go and perform this work, but the Saints of the living God. If

the Lord has any friends on the earth they are the Saints of God, and if the

Saints of God have any friends anywhere, they consist of the God of Israel

and the heavenly hosts, and the spirits of just men made perfect.

In my view, we as Latter-day Saints are approaching a change. We are

approaching important events. It cannot be otherwise in the face of the revelations

of God, in the Bible, in the Testament, in the Doctrine and Covenants,

than that a change is about to take place in the world. The Lord has said that

he would make the work short in the latter days, that he would cut it short in

righteousness. Fifty years is a good while to pass away in the dispensation

and generation in which we live, and it has taken from the earth during this

time a great many, I will say all of the founders of this church and kingdom.

It has taken into the spirit world many of the Apostles, many of the Elders,

many thousands of the Latter-day Saints, and sometimes when I look around

and contemplate on the past, I at times feel lonesome. I look back to the

days of Joseph Smith, Hyrum Smith, and to the ' patriarchs, prophets and

apostles that lived in that day, and I find that a great share of them are in the

spirit world. There are but very few left now who were alive at the organization

of this church upon the earth. I believe that Brother Orson Pratt is the

only man who dwells in the flesh, who is in the church, who was organized in

the first Quorum of the Twelve. Brother Taylor and myself remain of those

who were organized in the second organization. But Brother Taylor and myself

and Brother Pratt and a good many others will not tarry a great while

here. We shall pass on to the other side of the vail, and join those who have

gone before, as will many who are in this congregation. This is not our home,

but we will dwell in the flesh until we pass through a change. We are apt

sometimes in our reflections to marvel and wonder why the Lord has taken

away so many men who have been called as Apostles and prophets and Elders

of the Zion of God into the spirit world. The Lord has had his motive in

these things. I see (pointing to the paintings on the ceiling) Joseph Smith

with Moroni, and here, with Peter, James and John, receiving the priesthood.

How long did he (Joseph) tarry here in the flesh? Only fourteen

years after he organized this church and kingdom, the church and kingdom

of God, the church of Jesus Christ. We felt as though we could not live,

could not exist, without Joseph. We felt a good deal as the Apostles did

when Jesus told his disciples that if he did not go away the Comforter would

not come. They did not comprehend him; they did not understand that

Jesus Christ was to be crucified, notwithstanding that he told them that if he

did not go away the Comforter would not come. Joseph Smith remained

with us longer than the Savior did. He remained only about three and a

half years after he was thirty years of age, an age which the Jewish law required

a man to attain before officiating in the priesthood. Joseph Smith

remained with us about fourteen years. He remained until he had received all

the keys of the kingdom of God which were necessary for the establishment

of this church and kingdom, and which were necessary for those men who followed

him to have those keys upon their shoulders, that they might continue to

build upon the foundation that had been laid; but as soon as. Joseph received

the keys of the Aaronic and Melchizedek priesthood, as soon as he received

the keys from Moses for the gathering together of the House of Israel in the

latter days, and from Elijah to seal the hearts of the fathers to the children and

children to the fathers—when Joseph received all these keys, and had power

to seal them upon the heads of other men, the Lord called him away. Why

did he call him into the spirit world? Because he held the keys of this dispensation,

not only before he came to this world and while he was in the flesh,

but he would hold them throughout the endless ages of eternity. He held the

keys of past generations—of the millions of people who dwelt on the earth in

the fifty generations that had passed and gone who had not the law of the gospel,

who never saw a prophet, never saw an Apostle, never heard the voice of

any man who was inspired of God and had power to teach them the gospel of

Christ, and to organize the church of Christ on earth. He went to unlock the

prison doors to these people, as far as they would receive his testimony, and

the Saints of God who dwell in the flesh will build temples unto the name of

the Lord, and enter these temples and perform certain ordinances for the

redemption of the dead. This was the work of Joseph the prophet in the

spirit world. Now, I believe in my own mind that every Elder of Israel who

has gone into the spirit world, who has been faithful in the flesh, has as much

to do on the other side of the vail as we have to do here, and if anything more

so. This is my view with regard to ttfe labors of the Elders of Israel. The

Lord hath need of some on the other side of the vail. He preserves some to

labor here, and he takes home whom he will according to the counsels of his

own will; this is his manner of dealing. Those of our brethren who have

passed away have got through the labors of the flesh ; we are left here to labor

a little while on the earth. Then I would like to ask my brethren and sisters

this morning in view of these things, if these things are true, if this is the

church of Christ, if this is the Zion of God—which the Lord Almighty foreordained

before the world was should be established in the latter days, and had

a class of men and women whom he had reserved in the spirit world, whose

lives were hid with Christ in God and knew it not, to come forth and stand in

the flesh and take hold of this kingdom and build it up, and war with the

world, the flesh and the devil—then, if this be true, what manner of men and

women ought we to be? I feel in my reflections, in my thoughts and in my

meditations, that we, as Elders of Israel, should have nothing else to do in

this world while we dwell in the flesh but to build up this kingdom, and when

we are building up this kingdom we are building up ourselves; when we are

faithful to God we are magnifying our calling.

The eyes of the heavenly hosts are over us; the eyes of God himself and

his Son Jesus Christ; the eyes of all the prophets and Apostles who have

dwelt in the flesh; they are watching our works. I have spent more time

lately with those who are in the spirit world, in my night seasons, than in all

the rest of my life together. On one occasion I thought in my dream that

Presidents Young, Kimball, George A. Smi-th, and many others, attended one

of our Conferences. When Brother Young was asked to preach he said: " No,

I have done my preaching, I have done my instructions in the flesh; I have

come to hear you talk, I have come to look at you, I have come to watch over

you, I wish to see what this people are doing." This has been the answer

and these are thoughts I believe in. I believe we are not shut out from God,

we are not shut out from our brethren, though the vail is between us. They

understand our works, our condition, our position, and I feel a desire myself,

what little time I have to spend in the flesh, to make my time useful. I wish

to do what I can for the building up of the kingdom of God. I wish to do

what I can to bring to pass righteousness, and I feel that we should all be in

this position; we should all labor to occupy our time, our talents, and our attention

as far as we possibly can to build up the kingdom of God.

I wish to say to the Latter-day Saints. Sometimes people apostatize; we

speak of people getting into the dark. It does not make any difference who

sells whiskey, nor who drinks it; it makes no difference who blasphemes the

name of God, or apostatizes from the church and kingdom of God, as far as

the establishment of the kingdom of God is concerned; the Lord has got valiant

men and women in his kingdom who will be true and faithful to the Lord

and his work. If half of this church were to fall away, it would not destroy

the purposes of the Lord. With regard to ourselves that is another thing.

Many men who have received the gospel, and have had the Holy Ghost conferred

upon them, have fallen away, but in doing so they condemn themselves,

they destroy themselves, they miss and lose all the hopes they ever had of

eternal life and the blessings of God in the celestial kingdom. Men may fall,

but the kingdom of God never, never. The Lord has a good many men and

women in this church and kingdom that cannot afford to surrender any principle

that the God of Israel has commanded us to obey, no principle that the

Lord has commanded us to receive, no principle that is embodied in the gospel

of Jesus Christ. Why? Because we know and understand very well that our

destiny, our position, and our.blessings are all in his hands. We also know

that the destinies of all the armies of the nations of the earth under the whole

heavens are in the hands of God. The Lord guides these things ; he will

guide them. We are approaching an important day and time. We are approaching

a period when there must be a change in Babylon, a change in our

nation, and a change in Zion. Judgments are going to begin at the house

of God. They will go forth, and will not be taken from the earth until all has

been fulfilled.

My brethren and sisters, I wished to say this much this morning. I

desired to exhort you, and I exhort myself. Let us watch and be sober. Let

us keep the commandments of God. Let us labor for the Holy Spirit, for

without this no man can serve God. What condition is the world in? To-day

the world is a great way from the Lord, and they are getting a great way further

off year by year, and just so far as they get from the Lord in this world,

just so far off will they be in the world to come. Bear this in mind.

I do think that as Elders in Israel we have no reason to be discouraged.

God is with us. God is with this people. He is watching over our interests.

He guides and directs our destiny, and you may look back and scan the history

of this church and kingdom from the days of its organization, and you will

find it has never gone backward, it has gone forward all the way through, year

by year, no matter the difficulties thrown in our way. We have had persecution

and oppression ; we were driven from one place to another for many years,

until we were driven into these Rocky Mountains, to the land given to Jacob

and his posterity, the land preserved for the gathering of the Saints in the latter

days. When I look at this assembly and contemplate the work of this

people in these valleys and in the surrounding Territories; when I perceive

how this desert is occupied, how the Latter-day Saints are progressing, how

they are cultivating the earth, building temples, halls, tabernacles, schoolhouses,

towns and villages, I marvel at the work of the Lord. This is the

work of the Almighty, and when our enemies look for the stoppage of this

work, for the stoppage of the progress of the Latter-day Saints, they will be

disappointed, because these things are in the hands of the Lord, and no power

can hinder their progress.

I rejoice in having the privilege of meeting with an assemblv of the Saints

of God in Salt Lake City, and especially in such a good building as this. It

is a credit to the Latter-day Saints. It is an ornament to this Temple Block,

and an honor to those who have helped lo build it. We must continue these

things. We must go forward, not backward. We have this fine temple

which we are building at the present time, and there are others being

erected in other parts of the Territory, that the Latter-day Saints may enter

these temples of our God and attend to the ordinances for the redemption

of the living and the dead. I bear testimony to you, my brethren and sisters,

the whole spirit world is watching your labor and your works, and as I

said in the beginning, if the vail was taken from off our eyes, we would see

the responsibility of our acts, and what would be the result of these things?

We would labor diligently and do all we could for the rearing of these temples

for the redemption of our dead ; we would sanctify ourselves and keep the

Word of Wisdom, and unite ourselves together according to the law of God.

There are many things we do as Latter-day Saints that we should abstain

from; we should see the importance of our laboring in the flesh to build up the

Zion of God.

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The Twelve Dancing Princesses by the Brothers Grimm

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THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES

There was a king who had twelve beautiful daughters. They slept in twelve beds all in one room; and when they went to bed, the doors were shut and locked up; but every morning their shoes were found to be quite worn through as if they had been danced in all night; and yet nobody could find out how it happened, or where they had been.

Then the king made it known to all the land, that if any person could discover the secret, and find out where it was that the princesses danced in the night, he should have the one he liked best for his wife, and should be king after his death; but whoever tried and did not succeed, after three days and nights, should be put to death.

A king's son soon came. He was well entertained, and in the evening was taken to the chamber next to the one where the princesses lay in their twelve beds. There he was to sit and watch where they went to dance; and, in order that nothing might pass without his hearing it, the door of his chamber was left open. But the king's son soon fell asleep; and when he awoke in the morning he found that the princesses had all been dancing, for the soles of their shoes were full of holes. The same thing happened the second and third night: so the king ordered his head to be cut off. After him came several others; but they had all the same luck, and all lost their lives in the same manner.

Now it chanced that an old soldier, who had been wounded in battle and could fight no longer, passed through the country where this king reigned: and as he was travelling through a wood, he met an old woman, who asked him where he was going. 'I hardly know where I am going, or what I had better do,' said the soldier; 'but I think I should like very well to find out where it is that the princesses dance, and then in time I might be a king.' 'Well,' said the old dame, 'that is no very hard task: only take care not to drink any of the wine which one of the princesses will bring to you in the evening; and as soon as she leaves you pretend to be fast asleep.'

Then she gave him a cloak, and said, 'As soon as you put that on you will become invisible, and you will then be able to follow the princesses wherever they go.' When the soldier heard all this good counsel, he determined to try his luck: so he went to the king, and said he was willing to undertake the task.

He was as well received as the others had been, and the king ordered fine royal robes to be given him; and when the evening came he was led to the outer chamber. Just as he was going to lie down, the eldest of the princesses brought him a cup of wine; but the soldier threw it all away secretly, taking care not to drink a drop. Then he laid himself down on his bed, and in a little while began to snore very loud as if he was fast asleep. When the twelve princesses heard this they laughed heartily; and the eldest said, 'This fellow too might have done a wiser thing than lose his life in this way!' Then they rose up and opened their drawers and boxes, and took out all their fine clothes, and dressed themselves at the glass, and skipped about as if they were eager to begin dancing. But the youngest said, 'I don't know how it is, while you are so happy I feel very uneasy; I am sure some mischance will befall us.' 'You simpleton,' said the eldest, 'you are always afraid; have you forgotten how many kings' sons have already watched in vain? And as for this soldier, even if I had not given him his sleeping draught, he would have slept soundly enough.'

When they were all ready, they went and looked at the soldier; but he snored on, and did not stir hand or foot: so they thought they were quite safe; and the eldest went up to her own bed and clapped her hands, and the bed sank into the floor and a trap-door flew open. The soldier saw them going down through the trap-door one after another, the eldest leading the way; and thinking he had no time to lose, he jumped up, put on the cloak which the old woman had given him, and followed them; but in the middle of the stairs he trod on the gown of the youngest princess, and she cried out to her sisters, 'All is not right; someone took hold of my gown.' 'You silly creature!' said the eldest, 'it is nothing but a nail in the wall.' Then down they all went, and at the bottom they found themselves in a most delightful grove of trees; and the leaves were all of silver, and glittered and sparkled beautifully. The soldier wished to take away some token of the place; so he broke off a little branch, and there came a loud noise from the tree. Then the youngest daughter said again, 'I am sure all is not right—did not you hear that noise? That never happened before.' But the eldest said, 'It is only our princes, who are shouting for joy at our approach.'

Then they came to another grove of trees, where all the leaves were of gold; and afterwards to a third, where the leaves were all glittering diamonds. And the soldier broke a branch from each; and every time there was a loud noise, which made the youngest sister tremble with fear; but the eldest still said, it was only the princes, who were crying for joy. So they went on till they came to a great lake; and at the side of the lake there lay twelve little boats with twelve handsome princes in them, who seemed to be waiting there for the princesses.

One of the princesses went into each boat, and the soldier stepped into the same boat with the youngest. As they were rowing over the lake, the prince who was in the boat with the youngest princess and the soldier said, 'I do not know why it is, but though I am rowing with all my might we do not get on so fast as usual, and I am quite tired: the boat seems very heavy today.' 'It is only the heat of the weather,' said the princess: 'I feel it very warm too.'

On the other side of the lake stood a fine illuminated castle, from which came the merry music of horns and trumpets. There they all landed, and went into the castle, and each prince danced with his princess; and the soldier, who was all the time invisible, danced with them too; and when any of the princesses had a cup of wine set by her, he drank it all up, so that when she put the cup to her mouth it was empty. At this, too, the youngest sister was terribly frightened, but the eldest always silenced her. They danced on till three o'clock in the morning, and then all their shoes were worn out, so that they were obliged to leave off. The princes rowed them back again over the lake (but this time the soldier placed himself in the boat with the eldest princess); and on the opposite shore they took leave of each other, the princesses promising to come again the next night.

When they came to the stairs, the soldier ran on before the princesses, and laid himself down; and as the twelve sisters slowly came up very much tired, they heard him snoring in his bed; so they said, 'Now all is quite safe'; then they undressed themselves, put away their fine clothes, pulled off their shoes, and went to bed. In the morning the soldier said nothing about what had happened, but determined to see more of this strange adventure, and went again the second and third night; and every thing happened just as before; the princesses danced each time till their shoes were worn to pieces, and then returned home. However, on the third night the soldier carried away one of the golden cups as a token of where he had been.

As soon as the time came when he was to declare the secret, he was taken before the king with the three branches and the golden cup; and the twelve princesses stood listening behind the door to hear what he would say. And when the king asked him. 'Where do my twelve daughters dance at night?' he answered, 'With twelve princes in a castle under ground.' And then he told the king all that had happened, and showed him the three branches and the golden cup which he had brought with him. Then the king called for the princesses, and asked them whether what the soldier said was true: and when they saw that they were discovered, and that it was of no use to deny what had happened, they confessed it all. And the king asked the soldier which of them he would choose for his wife; and he answered, 'I am not very young, so I will have the eldest.'—And they were married that very day, and the soldier was chosen to be the king's heir.

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The War Prayer by Mark Twain

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The War Prayer

by Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.

Sunday morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths.

The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation, “God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!”

Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --

An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"

The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:

"I come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import -- that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of -- except he pause and think.

"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

"You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it -- that part which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient; the “whole” of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory—“must” follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

"Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!"

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.

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The War Prayer

by Mark Twain

The Dog and the Sparrow by the Brothers Grimm

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THE DOG AND THE SPARROW

A shepherd's dog had a master who took no care of him, but often let him suffer the greatest hunger. At last he could bear it no longer; so he took to his heels, and off he ran in a very sad and sorrowful mood. On the road he met a sparrow that said to him, 'Why are you so sad, my friend?' 'Because,' said the dog, 'I am very very hungry, and have nothing to eat.' 'If that be all,' answered the sparrow, 'come with me into the next town, and I will soon find you plenty of food.' So on they went together into the town: and as they passed by a butcher's shop, the sparrow said to the dog, 'Stand there a little while till I peck you down a piece of meat.' So the sparrow perched upon the shelf: and having first looked carefully about her to see if anyone was watching her, she pecked and scratched at a steak that lay upon the edge of the shelf, till at last down it fell. Then the dog snapped it up, and scrambled away with it into a corner, where he soon ate it all up. 'Well,' said the sparrow, 'you shall have some more if you will; so come with me to the next shop, and I will peck you down another steak.' When the dog had eaten this too, the sparrow said to him, 'Well, my good friend, have you had enough now?' 'I have had plenty of meat,' answered he, 'but I should like to have a piece of bread to eat after it.' 'Come with me then,' said the sparrow, 'and you shall soon have that too.' So she took him to a baker's shop, and pecked at two rolls that lay in the window, till they fell down: and as the dog still wished for more, she took him to another shop and pecked down some more for him. When that was eaten, the sparrow asked him whether he had had enough now. 'Yes,' said he; 'and now let us take a walk a little way out of the town.' So they both went out upon the high road; but as the weather was warm, they had not gone far before the dog said, 'I am very much tired—I should like to take a nap.' 'Very well,' answered the sparrow, 'do so, and in the meantime I will perch upon that bush.' So the dog stretched himself out on the road, and fell fast asleep. Whilst he slept, there came by a carter with a cart drawn by three horses, and loaded with two casks of wine. The sparrow, seeing that the carter did not turn out of the way, but would go on in the track in which the dog lay, so as to drive over him, called out, 'Stop! stop! Mr Carter, or it shall be the worse for you.' But the carter, grumbling to himself, 'You make it the worse for me, indeed! what can you do?' cracked his whip, and drove his cart over the poor dog, so that the wheels crushed him to death. 'There,' cried the sparrow, 'thou cruel villain, thou hast killed my friend the dog. Now mind what I say. This deed of thine shall cost thee all thou art worth.' 'Do your worst, and welcome,' said the brute, 'what harm can you do me?' and passed on. But the sparrow crept under the tilt of the cart, and pecked at the bung of one of the casks till she loosened it; and than all the wine ran out, without the carter seeing it. At last he looked round, and saw that the cart was dripping, and the cask quite empty. 'What an unlucky wretch I am!' cried he. 'Not wretch enough yet!' said the sparrow, as she alighted upon the head of one of the horses, and pecked at him till he reared up and kicked. When the carter saw this, he drew out his hatchet and aimed a blow at the sparrow, meaning to kill her; but she flew away, and the blow fell upon the poor horse's head with such force, that he fell down dead. 'Unlucky wretch that I am!' cried he. 'Not wretch enough yet!' said the sparrow. And as the carter went on with the other two horses, she again crept under the tilt of the cart, and pecked out the bung of the second cask, so that all the wine ran out. When the carter saw this, he again cried out, 'Miserable wretch that I am!' But the sparrow answered, 'Not wretch enough yet!' and perched on the head of the second horse, and pecked at him too. The carter ran up and struck at her again with his hatchet; but away she flew, and the blow fell upon the second horse and killed him on the spot. 'Unlucky wretch that I am!' said he. 'Not wretch enough yet!' said the sparrow; and perching upon the third horse, she began to peck him too. The carter was mad with fury; and without looking about him, or caring what he was about, struck again at the sparrow; but killed his third horse as he done the other two. 'Alas! miserable wretch that I am!' cried he. 'Not wretch enough yet!' answered the sparrow as she flew away; 'now will I plague and punish thee at thy own house.' The carter was forced at last to leave his cart behind him, and to go home overflowing with rage and vexation. 'Alas!' said he to his wife, 'what ill luck has befallen me!—my wine is all spilt, and my horses all three dead.' 'Alas! husband,' replied she, 'and a wicked bird has come into the house, and has brought with her all the birds in the world, I am sure, and they have fallen upon our corn in the loft, and are eating it up at such a rate!' Away ran the husband upstairs, and saw thousands of birds sitting upon the floor eating up his corn, with the sparrow in the midst of them. 'Unlucky wretch that I am!' cried the carter; for he saw that the corn was almost all gone. 'Not wretch enough yet!' said the sparrow; 'thy cruelty shall cost thee thy life yet!' and away she flew. The carter seeing that he had thus lost all that he had, went down into his kitchen; and was still not sorry for what he had done, but sat himself angrily and sulkily in the chimney corner. But the sparrow sat on the outside of the window, and cried 'Carter! thy cruelty shall cost thee thy life!' With that he jumped up in a rage, seized his hatchet, and threw it at the sparrow; but it missed her, and only broke the window. The sparrow now hopped in, perched upon the window-seat, and cried, 'Carter! it shall cost thee thy life!' Then he became mad and blind with rage, and struck the window-seat with such force that he cleft it in two: and as the sparrow flew from place to place, the carter and his wife were so furious, that they broke all their furniture, glasses, chairs, benches, the table, and at last the walls, without touching the bird at all. In the end, however, they caught her: and the wife said, 'Shall I kill her at once?' 'No,' cried he, 'that is letting her off too easily: she shall die a much more cruel death; I will eat her.' But the sparrow began to flutter about, and stretch out her neck and cried, 'Carter! it shall cost thee thy life yet!' With that he could wait no longer: so he gave his wife the hatchet, and cried, 'Wife, strike at the bird and kill her in my hand.' And the wife struck; but she missed her aim, and hit her husband on the head so that he fell down dead, and the sparrow flew quietly home to her nest.

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The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle by Arthur Conan Doyle

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The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination.

“You are engaged,” said I; “perhaps I interrupt you.”

“Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one”—he jerked his thumb in the direction of the old hat—“but there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction.”

I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice crystals. “I suppose,” I remarked, “that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it—that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime.”

“No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such.”

“So much so,” I remarked, “that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime.”

“Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?”

“Yes.”

“It is to him that this trophy belongs.”

“It is his hat.”

“No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson’s fire. The facts are these: about four o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the man’s hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose.”

“Which surely he restored to their owner?”

“My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that ‘For Mrs. Henry Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird’s left leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. B.’ are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them.”

“What, then, did Peterson do?”

“He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner.”

“Did he not advertise?”

“No.”

“Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?”

“Only as much as we can deduce.”

“From his hat?”

“Precisely.”

“But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt?”

“Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?”

I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker’s name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches by smearing them with ink.

“I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend.

“On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences.”

“Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?”

He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him. “It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. “He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house.”

“You are certainly joking, Holmes.”

“Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?”

“I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?”

For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. “It is a question of cubic capacity,” said he; “a man with so large a brain must have something in it.”

“The decline of his fortunes, then?”

“This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world.”

“Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?”

Sherlock Holmes laughed. “Here is the foresight,” said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. “They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect.”

“Your reasoning is certainly plausible.”

“The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of training.”

“But his wife—you said that she had ceased to love him.”

“This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week’s accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife’s affection.”

“But he might be a bachelor.”

“Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife. Remember the card upon the bird’s leg.”

“You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?”

“One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow—walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?”

“Well, it is very ingenious,” said I, laughing; “but since, as you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy.”

Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment.

“The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!” he gasped.

“Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off through the kitchen window?” Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man’s excited face.

“See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!” He held out his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.

Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. “By Jove, Peterson!” said he, “this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you have got?”

“A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were putty.”

“It’s more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone.”

“Not the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle!” I ejaculated.

“Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but the reward offered of £1000 is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price.”

“A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!” The commissionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us.

“That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but recover the gem.”

“It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,” I remarked.

“Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady’s jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account of the matter here, I believe.” He rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out, doubled it over, and read the following paragraph:

“Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder’s cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court.”

“Hum! So much for the police-court,” said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing aside the paper. “The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have recourse to other methods.”

“What will you say?”

“Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: ‘Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.’ That is clear and concise.”

“Very. But will he see it?”

“Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor man, the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then, again, the introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers.”

“In which, sir?”

“Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James’s, Evening News, Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you.”

“Very well, sir. And this stone?”

“Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring.”

When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. “It’s a bonny thing,” said he. “Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil’s pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it.”

“Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?”

“I cannot tell.”

“Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?”

“It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer to our advertisement.”

“And you can do nothing until then?”

“Nothing.”

“In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business.”

“Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.”

I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes’ room.

“Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily assume. “Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?”

“Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat.”

He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes’ surmise as to his habits. His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune.

“We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, “because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise.”

Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. “Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were,” he remarked. “I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt at recovering them.”

“Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat it.”

“To eat it!” Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement.

“Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally well?”

“Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.

“Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish—”

The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as relics of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard.”

Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under his arm. “There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum—we are to be found in the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity.” With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon his way.

“So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. “It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while it is still hot.”

“By all means.”

It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors’ quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord.

“Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese,” said he.

“My geese!” The man seemed surprised.

“Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club.”

“Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them’s not our geese.”

“Indeed! Whose, then?”

“Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden.”

“Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?”

“Breckinridge is his name.”

“Ah! I don’t know him. Well, here’s your good health landlord, and prosperity to your house. Good-night.”

“Now for Mr. Breckinridge,” he continued, buttoning up his coat as we came out into the frosty air. “Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years’ penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!”

We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up the shutters.

“Good-evening. It’s a cold night,” said Holmes.

The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion.

“Sold out of geese, I see,” continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble.

“Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning.”

“That’s no good.”

“Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare.”

“Ah, but I was recommended to you.”

“Who by?”

“The landlord of the Alpha.”

“Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen.”

“Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?”

To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman.

“Now, then, mister,” said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo, “what are you driving at? Let’s have it straight, now.”

“It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha.”

“Well then, I shan’t tell you. So now!”

“Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don’t know why you should be so warm over such a trifle.”

“Warm! You’d be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business; but it’s ‘Where are the geese?’ and ‘Who did you sell the geese to?’ and ‘What will you take for the geese?’ One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over them.”

“Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries,” said Holmes carelessly. “If you won’t tell us the bet is off, that is all. But I’m always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country bred.”

“Well, then, you’ve lost your fiver, for it’s town bred,” snapped the salesman.

“It’s nothing of the kind.”

“I say it is.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“D’you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to the Alpha were town bred.”

“You’ll never persuade me to believe that.”

“Will you bet, then?”

“It’s merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I’ll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate.”

The salesman chuckled grimly. “Bring me the books, Bill,” said he.

The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.

“Now then, Mr. Cocksure,” said the salesman, “I thought that I was out of geese, but before I finish you’ll find that there is still one left in my shop. You see this little book?”

“Well?”

“That’s the list of the folk from whom I buy. D’you see? Well, then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me.”

“Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road—249,” read Holmes.

“Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger.”

Holmes turned to the page indicated. “Here you are, ‘Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.’ ”

“Now, then, what’s the last entry?”

“ ‘December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.’ ”

“Quite so. There you are. And underneath?”

“ ‘Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.’ ”

“What have you to say now?”

Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which was peculiar to him.

“When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the ‘Pink ’un’ protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet,” said he. “I daresay that if I had put £100 down in front of him, that man would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should—”

His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure.

“I’ve had enough of you and your geese,” he shouted. “I wish you were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I’ll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I’ll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?”

“No; but one of them was mine all the same,” whined the little man.

“Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it.”

“She told me to ask you.”

“Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I’ve had enough of it. Get out of this!” He rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness.

“Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road,” whispered Holmes. “Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow.” Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of colour had been driven from his face.

“Who are you, then? What do you want?” he asked in a quavering voice.

“You will excuse me,” said Holmes blandly, “but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I think that I could be of assistance to you.”

“You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?”

“My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don’t know.”

“But you can know nothing of this?”

“Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member.”

“Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet,” cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. “I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.”

Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. “In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept market-place,” said he. “But pray tell me, before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting.”

The man hesitated for an instant. “My name is John Robinson,” he answered with a sidelong glance.

“No, no; the real name,” said Holmes sweetly. “It is always awkward doing business with an alias.”

A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. “Well then,” said he, “my real name is James Ryder.”

“Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would wish to know.”

The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him.

“Here we are!” said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. “The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what became of those geese?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested—white, with a black bar across the tail.”

Ryder quivered with emotion. “Oh, sir,” he cried, “can you tell me where it went to?”

“It came here.”

“Here?”

“Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don’t wonder that you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead—the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here in my museum.”

Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it.

“The game’s up, Ryder,” said Holmes quietly. “Hold up, man, or you’ll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He’s not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!”

For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a tinge of color into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser.

“I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar’s?”

“It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it,” said he in a crackling voice.

“I see—her ladyship’s waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him. What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady’s room—you and your confederate Cusack—and you managed that he should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man arrested. You then—”

Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion’s knees. “For God’s sake, have mercy!” he shrieked. “Think of my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I’ll swear it on a Bible. Oh, don’t bring it into court! For Christ’s sake, don’t!”

“Get back into your chair!” said Holmes sternly. “It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing.”

“I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the charge against him will break down.”

“Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account of the next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety.”

Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. “I will tell you it just as it happened, sir,” said he. “When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister’s house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to do.

“I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.

“My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds—a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and fluttered off among the others.

“ ‘Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?’ says she.

“ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you said you’d give me one for Christmas, and I was feeling which was the fattest.’

“ ‘Oh,’ says she, ‘we’ve set yours aside for you—Jem’s bird, we call it. It’s the big white one over yonder. There’s twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for the market.’

“ ‘Thank you, Maggie,’ says I; ‘but if it is all the same to you, I’d rather have that one I was handling just now.’

“ ‘The other is a good three pound heavier,’ said she, ‘and we fattened it expressly for you.’

“ ‘Never mind. I’ll have the other, and I’ll take it now,’ said I.

“ ‘Oh, just as you like,’ said she, a little huffed. ‘Which is it you want, then?’

“ ‘That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock.’

“ ‘Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.’

“Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird, rushed back to my sister’s, and hurried into the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there.

“ ‘Where are they all, Maggie?’ I cried.

“ ‘Gone to the dealer’s, Jem.’

“ ‘Which dealer’s?’

“ ‘Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.’

“ ‘But was there another with a barred tail?’ I asked, ‘the same as the one I chose?’

“ ‘Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell them apart.’

“Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now—and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me! God help me!” He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands.

There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes’ finger-tips upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door.

“Get out!” said he.

“What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!”

“No more words. Get out!”

And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street.

“After all, Watson,” said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe, “I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to gaol now, and you make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature.”

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Briar Rose by the Brothers Grimm

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BRIAR ROSE

by the Brothers Grimm

 

A king and queen once upon a time reigned in a country a great way off, where there were in those days fairies. Now this king and queen had plenty of money, and plenty of fine clothes to wear, and plenty of good things to eat and drink, and a coach to ride out in every day: but though they had been married many years they had no children, and this grieved them very much indeed. But one day as the queen was walking by the side of the river, at the bottom of the garden, she saw a poor little fish, that had thrown itself out of the water, and lay gasping and nearly dead on the bank. Then the queen took pity on the little fish, and threw it back again into the river; and before it swam away it lifted its head out of the water and said, 'I know what your wish is, and it shall be fulfilled, in return for your kindness to me—you will soon have a daughter.' What the little fish had foretold soon came to pass; and the queen had a little girl, so very beautiful that the king could not cease looking on it for joy, and said he would hold a great feast and make merry, and show the child to all the land. So he asked his kinsmen, and nobles, and friends, and neighbors. But the queen said, 'I will have the fairies also, that they might be kind and good to our little daughter.' Now there were thirteen fairies in the kingdom; but as the king and queen had only twelve golden dishes for them to eat out of, they were forced to leave one of the fairies without asking her. So twelve fairies came, each with a high red cap on her head, and red shoes with high heels on her feet, and a long white wand in her hand: and after the feast was over they gathered round in a ring and gave all their best gifts to the little princess. One gave her goodness, another beauty, another riches, and so on till she had all that was good in the world.

Just as eleven of them had done blessing her, a great noise was heard in the courtyard, and word was brought that the thirteenth fairy was come, with a black cap on her head, and black shoes on her feet, and a broomstick in her hand: and presently up she came into the dining-hall. Now, as she had not been asked to the feast she was very angry, and scolded the king and queen very much, and set to work to take her revenge. So she cried out, 'The king's daughter shall, in her fifteenth year, be wounded by a spindle, and fall down dead.' Then the twelfth of the friendly fairies, who had not yet given her gift, came forward, and said that the evil wish must be fulfilled, but that she could soften its mischief; so her gift was, that the king's daughter, when the spindle wounded her, should not really die, but should only fall asleep for a hundred years.

However, the king hoped still to save his dear child altogether from the threatened evil; so he ordered that all the spindles in the kingdom should be bought up and burnt. But all the gifts of the first eleven fairies were in the meantime fulfilled; for the princess was so beautiful, and well behaved, and good, and wise, that everyone who knew her loved her.

It happened that, on the very day she was fifteen years old, the king and queen were not at home, and she was left alone in the palace. So she roved about by herself, and looked at all the rooms and chambers, till at last she came to an old tower, to which there was a narrow staircase ending with a little door. In the door there was a golden key, and when she turned it the door sprang open, and there sat an old lady spinning away very busily. 'Why, how now, good mother,' said the princess; 'what are you doing there?' 'Spinning,' said the old lady, and nodded her head, humming a tune, while buzz! went the wheel. 'How prettily that little thing turns round!' said the princess, and took the spindle and began to try and spin. But scarcely had she touched it, before the fairy's prophecy was fulfilled; the spindle wounded her, and she fell down lifeless on the ground.

However, she was not dead, but had only fallen into a deep sleep; and the king and the queen, who had just come home, and all their court, fell asleep too; and the horses slept in the stables, and the dogs in the court, the pigeons on the house-top, and the very flies slept upon the walls. Even the fire on the hearth left off blazing, and went to sleep; the jack stopped, and the spit that was turning about with a goose upon it for the king's dinner stood still; and the cook, who was at that moment pulling the kitchen-boy by the hair to give him a box on the ear for something he had done amiss, let him go, and both fell asleep; the butler, who was slyly tasting the ale, fell asleep with the jug at his lips: and thus everything stood still, and slept soundly.

A large hedge of thorns soon grew round the palace, and every year it became higher and thicker; till at last the old palace was surrounded and hidden, so that not even the roof or the chimneys could be seen. But there went a report through all the land of the beautiful sleeping Briar Rose (for so the king's daughter was called): so that, from time to time, several kings' sons came, and tried to break through the thicket into the palace. This, however, none of them could ever do; for the thorns and bushes laid hold of them, as it were with hands; and there they stuck fast, and died wretchedly.

After many, many years there came a king's son into that land: and an old man told him the story of the thicket of thorns; and how a beautiful palace stood behind it, and how a wonderful princess, called Briar Rose, lay in it asleep, with all her court. He told, too, how he had heard from his grandfather that many, many princes had come, and had tried to break through the thicket, but that they had all stuck fast in it, and died. Then the young prince said, 'All this shall not frighten me; I will go and see this Briar Rose.' The old man tried to hinder him, but he was bent upon going.

Now that very day the hundred years were ended; and as the prince came to the thicket he saw nothing but beautiful flowering shrubs, through which he went with ease, and they shut in after him as thick as ever. Then he came at last to the palace, and there in the court lay the dogs asleep; and the horses were standing in the stables; and on the roof sat the pigeons fast asleep, with their heads under their wings. And when he came into the palace, the flies were sleeping on the walls; the spit was standing still; the butler had the jug of ale at his lips, going to drink a draught; the maid sat with a fowl in her lap ready to be plucked; and the cook in the kitchen was still holding up her hand, as if she was going to beat the boy.

Then he went on still farther, and all was so still that he could hear every breath he drew; till at last he came to the old tower, and opened the door of the little room in which Briar Rose was; and there she lay, fast asleep on a couch by the window. She looked so beautiful that he could not take his eyes off her, so he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But the moment he kissed her she opened her eyes and awoke, and smiled upon him; and they went out together; and soon the king and queen also awoke, and all the court, and gazed on each other with great wonder. And the horses shook themselves, and the dogs jumped up and barked; the pigeons took their heads from under their wings, and looked about and flew into the fields; the flies on the walls buzzed again; the fire in the kitchen blazed up; round went the jack, and round went the spit, with the goose for the king's dinner upon it; the butler finished his draught of ale; the maid went on plucking the fowl; and the cook gave the boy the box on his ear.

And then the prince and Briar Rose were married, and the wedding feast was given; and they lived happily together all their lives long.

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