Evening Round Up

W >> William Crosbie Hunter >> Evening Round Up

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I don't like the fads in the matter of eating. The amount a person
should eat is in exact accord with the law of compensation.

The human body is a machine from a food standpoint. It is an engine that
has work to do and accordingly the amount of fuel necessary for the
engine should be in proportion to the amount of work that engine is
called on to perform.

The hotels, restaurants and food purveyors invent palate tickling food
to tease the human to eat, and hotels and restaurants are mostly
patronized by people who do not have much physical work to do; the
consequence is they eat too much.

You do not often find dyspepsia or indigestion among men or women who
work hard physically.

You who work indoors with little physical exercise will find wonderful
benefits if you will cut down the fuel.

You will get sick if you pile in more fuel than is necessary for the
engine.

If your engine needs twenty pounds of steam how foolish it is to keep up
a hundred pounds pressure.

If you had five-horsepower work to perform how foolish it would be to
install a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound engine.

Much of the physical trouble comes from filling up the boiler too much.

Cut down the food and you will feel better.

DAUGHTERS

A Message From a Daddy's Heart

Dear little Mary Elizabeth and Nancy Lou and dear little girls
everywhere who read these lines: here is a message and a wish from
daddy's heart.

I want you to be golden girls, girls who love home and children; girls
who love simple things, natural things; I want you to be sweet rather
than pretty, lovable rather than popular.

May the mirror never reflect paint, rouge or make-up on your face. A
little talcum powder is all right.

Do not look upon matrimony as a means to provide food and finery for
you.

Do not be ashamed of an old-fashioned mother. Do not be a "good fellow."
Do not be afraid to say "I can't afford it."

Help the family; be part of it, and not apart from it.

When you are old enough to have a beau, do not be afraid to bring him
into your home, no matter how humble it is.

When I was a beau I courted my sweetheart in her home. My treat was red
apples and a walk down the lane. Most every beau nowadays courts his
girl with a taxi to the theatre, and red lobsters after the dinner; ten
dollars they pay where I paid ten cents, and I had ten times more
happiness.

Be modest, girls; it is your greatest asset.

Don't gossip or belittle other girls; find the good you can say of
others; that quality makes you more attractive.

Keep your voice low, be gentle, sweet, kind, human and simple; that is
what my sweetheart is; that is why our married life has been a honeymoon
all these years.

Watch out for word candy and flattery; these things mark the hypocrite
and a hypocrite is an abomination. Flattery is a practiced deceit--a
dishonorable bait to catch affections.

Do not allow any young man to relate a story in your presence that has
the slightest risque turn to it. Show by your words and your actions
that such presumption is an insult.

Fine feathers never make fine birds; don't borrow finery; don't be
attractive for your fine dresses; the men attracted by fluff, frills,
feathers and furbelows are not worth shucks.

Be square with yourself and square to the man who is after your heart;
put yourself mentally in the place of a wife, when a man gets serious.

Don't hurry, girls; don't judge the man by his money prospects but by
his character and ambition.

Have nothing to do with any young suitor who isn't always kind,
considerate and attentive to his mother.

Marry a man of character who courts you in the sweet, simple old way.

If a young man spends money extravagantly before marriage, hard times
will always be around during his married life.

The most precious possessions in the world are happiness and love, and
these; come from simple things, genuineness, and usefulness.

Learn to cook and to sew. You can't be happy and idle at the same time.

Learn to be independent of dressmaker and milliner and cooks. You may
have them, I hope you will, but master these useful vocations yourself,
then you will have dresses and hats and dinners worth while.

The world is full of new-fashioned slangy, dancy, fancy, foolish girls
who marry for style, stunts and society, and their married life is
failure, worry and sorrow.

Be the golden, pure, old-fashioned, sweet, simple, quiet, modest girl
who knows things, rather than one who is a show-off girl.

And here's a tip to you, young man, who reads these lines, get a golden
girl like I have described; a girl of pure gold and not glittering
tinsel; a sweet, natural, sensible girl, that will do team work and be a
helpmate to you and not a drawback and money spender.

Daddy knows these things; he's been around the world. He is endowed with
an ability to observe, analyze and benefit.

He's had experience, he's seen the world from cottage to castle, and
these things he tells you because of his love for you and because he
wants you to have such a home life as he has.

And these truths, these hopes, are from the very bottom of his heart to
his daughters Mary Elizabeth and Nancy Lou and all the other girls who
have read these lines.

POISE

A Necessity to the Person Who Accomplishes

There are men who cannot be kept down by circumstances or obstacles.

These men progress with confidence in their hearts and smiles on their
faces. They do not lie in wait for the band wagon or favorable winds;
they make things happen.

They are, of course, alert and alive to favorable opportunity and
helpful influences when they come their way.

These men are men of good health. They are out of doors much, they carry
their heads high and breathe in good air deeply. They greet friends with
a smile and put meaning and feeling into every hand clasp.

Let's you and I follow their trail, for it leads out on to the big road.

Do not fear being misunderstood, right will finally come in to its own.

We will keep our minds off our enemies, and keep our thoughts on our
purpose; we will make up our minds what we want to do. We will mark a
straight line on the log and hew to that line.

Fear is the dope drug that kills initiative, hate the poison that
shatters clear thinking.

Hate and fear are iron ore in our life's vessel, it deflects the compass
and prevents our holding to the course.

There are splendid worth-while things for us to do and with continuity
of action and singleness of purpose the days will pass by, as we are
seizing opportunity and making use of the things required for the
fulfillment of our desires.

We are like the coral insect that takes from the running tide the
material to build a solid fortress. Our running tide is the gliding
golden days.

Let's waste no time in trying to make friends or in seeking to attach
ourselves to others. True friends are not caught by pursuit; they come
to us, they happen through circumstances we do not create.

Self-reliance is ours and we must first use it for our own betterment.
We will then have a surplus of energy to allow us to help others.

Solitude beats society, relaxation beats conventional function, and
foolish so-called pleasures.

Our energy hours must be devoted to our purpose and ideals. Atween
times we must rest, relax and recuperate the waste that strenuosity
makes.

Breathe good air, bask in the sunshine, see nature and say to yourself,
"All these treasures are for me, all these things I am part of."

Do not prepare for death, prepare for life. Preparing for death brings
the end before your allotted time.

Like Job of old that which we fear will come to us. We must not think of
death, or waste time preparing for it. It makes us miserable today. It
makes us weak and fills us with fear and it draws the day of our
departure nearer.

Today is ours. Live, freely, fully today. Be unafraid, unhurried, and
undisturbed.

We are building character, and the way we build it is by mental
attitude, by our acts, and the way we employ the precious time today.

Lay hold of the great forces of nature, realize the wonderful power of
the will and you will be strong, a veritable king among men.

PIONEER MOTHERS

Knitting From Necessity Today, Knitting for Pleasure Tomorrow

As I write these lines I am riding on a slow train through Oklahoma.
Purposely I am in the day coach smoker for that's the place to study
local color, and see the natives.

The atmosphere around is oil and gas, the talk is "bringing in a
gusher," "tanks," "rigs," "leases," "wild cat sales," "offsets,"
"selling stock," and the like; all the phrases, all the talk is striking
it rich, getting money.

Indians, Mexicans, Negroes, college boys in surveying crews and
speculators form a hodge podge. Men from all parts of the states are
here seeking dollars.

I have been around these oil and gas fields in autos and by teams. I've
been observing life, character, passions and habits.

I've seen brave women here with nursing babies living in tents or
patchwork shacks. Some of these women dream at night of silks and satins
and mansions and position.

By day these poor women work and mend and cook and sew, doing their part
to help things along. Many of the husbands are earning five to eight
dollars a day and spending most of it on foolishness. The poor wives get
only enough for bare necessities, and yet they patiently work and mend
and cook and sew.

Talk about patience; talk about devotion; talk about grit; talk about
courage; just come down to the oil fields and see these poor pioneer
women.

Talk about selfishness; talk about cowardice; talk about brutality; talk
about debasement; come down and see some of these men making $25 to $50
a week and never a cent in their pockets Monday morning.

Woman is called weak--that means the rich woman--the poor woman
possesses strength that psychology cannot explain. Men can be analyzed,
but you are at a loss to understand woman. Poor women grow into a sweet
replica of their mothers, the most unselfish, patient, generous,
forgiving, lovable, adorable creatures on earth.

Man grows away from his mother; he roughens and cools and grows selfish
and expects and demands the woman shall love him with all these faults,
and generally she does.

The poor woman makes an idol of her husband and in her love thinks he is
ideal.

Let him spend his money, she sticks to him; let poverty and want come to
the home, she sticks. Let ill treatment be her portion, she sticks; and
withal there are smiles on her lips most of the time.

I'm sorry for the poor woman in the oil fields, and the only glimmer of
compensation I can find is that she doesn't have nervous prostration
like her wealthy society sister has.

Those little husky children I see over there in the yard playing Indian
will likely know the worth of a dollar later on. I peep into the future
and predict that those boys will get on in the world, and Mother who is
chopping wood for supper I see some day with a nice black grosgrain silk
dress and a ball of knitting in her silk hand bag.

I see her from necessity knitting stockings for her children. In the
future some day, far beyond want, for her sons will be successful men,
she still is knitting and mending and helping, a smile on her lips and
a soft light in her eye.

Plump, round and well fed, she sits there knitting with pleasure and
dreaming of the pioneer days she spent in the Oklahoma cabin. Yes,
that's the picture of the future.

The train is pulling into a city; I don't want the picture of the poor,
hard-working, unselfish, sacrificing woman and her worthless husband to
remain in my memory.

The sons will come out all right; they always do when they have a
shiftless dad and a good mother. And somehow in this great open splendid
Western country there is opportunity for such boys.

The big men here were all poor a short time ago. Their grandfathers were
rich, their fathers spent their inheritance, they suffered poverty and
want and their extremity was the son's spur to ambitious activity.

In the car are four young sports coming home from college on a vacation.
Their daddies are all oil kings, and these youngsters will inherit
fortunes.

Those youngsters who were playing Indian will get on in the world; these
four young millionaire kids will go broke; their heads are not shaped
right; their jaws slant back; it isn't in them. I know something of
character.

Bye-bye, Mamma, with your little cabin and your boys; some day you will
have peace and plenty.

Those four oil Johnnies will marry girls who have plenty and some day
those girls will have to do the family washing.

The wheel turns, it's the history of the past. From shirt sleeves to
shirt sleeves in three generations.

Lincolns, Garfields, and Edisons came from just such little cabins and
just such rough, hard, bare life as I have been seeing this afternoon.

ANGER

It's a Temporary Mental Derangement

Anger and acts of revenge are great pull-backs to health.

Anger makes the blood rush to the head, weakens the body, and distorts
the vision.

When a woman gets angry, she quarrels with her lover, her husband or her
children. Any one of these things is a calamity.

When a man gets angry he is a wild man, his eyes glitter, his mouth is
cruel, his fists clinch, his body trembles, his blood veins strain and
he does more harm in five minutes' anger than nature can repair in a
day.

Anger makes weak stomachs, dizzy heads, poor judgment, lost friends,
despair, sickness and likely the confirmed habit will lead to apoplexy.

When two men have differences, watch the cool man finish victor, the
angry man always loses.

Keep your head; let the other fellow fret and fume.

He will tie himself up in a knot and finish loser.

Serenity is a God's blessing and fortunate is the man who can hold his
serenity.

When you get a letter that stirs you to anger, don't answer that letter
for forty-eight hours, then write a moderately vitriolic letter,--and
then tear it up.

I know you are tempted, goaded and your limit of endurance is sometimes
exhausted.

I know revenge is sweet only in anticipation. I know that revenge by
anger and by the cruel "eye for an eye" measure is never, never sweet.

I have had imposition, ingratitude, insincerity and advantages taken of
me because I kept my poise and serenity.

I have been called easy, and soft, and friends have shown me where I was
imposed upon, but I was stooping to conquer. I kept my reserve, my
resistance and my power ready until time, place, and preparedness let me
spring my coup and then I cashed in beautifully in principal and
interest for those acts and hurts.

I have power now in my hands to make others suffer, keenly and deeply,
for wrongs they have done me. Yet I do not exercise that power to
revenge.

I have been misjudged and misunderstood because cowardly persons have
lied and villified me and accused me of motives and acts of which I was
innocent.

I am well hated now by one person in particular who blames me for things
another is guilty of. A word from me would clear me, but it would bring
gloom and despair to that person and would not make me any less
cognizant of my innocence.

Time somehow will bring out the truth; the cowardly, guilty individual
who basks in the favor of the one who is angry at me will surely pay for
his wrong.

This I know and I am satisfied with the ultimate result.

My former friend who is angry at me would simply switch the anger
current to the guilty one if I told the facts; the guilty person
couldn't stand that anger like I can. My act would break up a home and
bring misery.

I am far removed from the location where these people live, and I can
stand the anger of the one who puts the blame on me and accepts the
lies of another as truth.

I have the documents in black and white, yet I don't use them because I
have poise and the consciousness of knowing I am right and those who are
dear to me know it, too.

I could be angry, but I couldn't live and enjoy and write books like
"Pep" and this book if I let anger get in and spoil the serenity which
is mine.

I've tried both plans, anger and poise, and I like poise better.

I believe I hear more birds, I believe I get more pleasure out of life
and living than the man who gets angry and loves revenge.

Anyway I think so, and "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he."

SALT

It's a Drug; Too Much Is Bad for You

Don't eat too much salt. Salt is a drug; it carries with it lime and
magnesia and they tend to clog up things.

Too much salt will likely cause gall stones or gravel.

Some persons sprinkle salt over potatoes, beef and everything they eat;
it's a bad practice.

You get enough salt in your bacon, and in the meat you eat. The food as
it comes from the kitchen has plenty of salt in it.

Those who eat too much salt must suffer.

People have told me that the craving for salt was a natural thing; it
isn't so, it's a cultivated taste. You didn't like salty olives the
first time you tasted them.

Because deer and cattle greedily lick salt is no proof salt is natural
and good, and needed in quantities. Cattle and horses will eat loco weed
and when they get the habit they will eat and eat until they get crazy.

Man will crave tobacco; it isn't a natural taste, it's merely a
cultivated taste.

The desire for excess salt on everything you eat is a habit and a bad
habit.

It tends to make calcareous deposits in your system, and it will affect
the blood and the muscles and the bones.

Nature puts practically enough salt in the food and cooks certainly add
enough salt in their seasoning to furnish all the system needs.

Excess salt eating dulls the finer sensibilities of taste just as excess
pepper or Worcester sauce or mustard does. It kills the fine natural
flavor.

There's enough salt in butter to season the eggs you eat. Try your eggs
next time without putting pepper and salt on them.

Learn to get the natural flavors and you will enjoy your food more.

Remember again excess craving for salt is simply evidence that you have
a drug habit, not as dangerous as other drug habits, but bad for you
just the same.

Check yourself every time you reach for a salt cellar.

Watch the children; don't let them eat too much salt.

INSOMNIA

It's Caused By High Mental Tension

Sleeping, like breathing and digesting, is controlled by the
subconscious brain centers. Natural sleep requires no positive mental
impulse; it's just relaxing and nature takes care of the process.

That is natural sleep, but when you start your dry cell battery, the
brain, and commence to worry and fear, you are going to stay awake; then
the conscious mind dominates the subconscious mind and you banish the
very comforter you seek to woo.

Business men who keep up high tension all day on business matters, and
high tension all evening in threshing all over again the business of the
day, are almost sure to suffer from insomnia.

The continuance of the day and night habit of thinking of business
brings on the insomnia habit and that starts the auto suggestion that
you are fighting for your natural sleep. This produces worry, the demon
that kills and maims.

To have an occasional wakeful night is natural; it is an evidence of
intelligence: the mental dullard never has wakeful nights.

Unless the fear of sleeplessness becomes a full grown phobia no anxiety
need be felt. The fear of insomnia, the over anxiety to go to sleep, is
to be more dreaded than insomnia itself.

To get refreshing sleep you must get physical tiredness. Take exercise.
Walk in one direction until the first symptoms of becoming tired
appears, then walk home. Take a hot bath, then sponge with cold or cool
water. Put a cold cloth at the head, rub the backbone with cold water.

Open your windows wide, then relax. Don't worry; you are going to sleep.

Lie on your back, open your eyes wide, look up as if you were trying to
see your eyebrows, hold your eyes open this way ten to twenty seconds,
then close them slowly. Repeat this several times. Soon the sandman will
come.

Concentrate your mind on auto suggestion like this: "I am going to
sleep--sound heavy, restful, peaceful sleep. My eyelids are getting
heavy--heavy. I am going to close them and go to sleep."

Don't try counting imaginary sheep jumping over fence rails. Don't count
numbers. It is a bad habit.

If these suggestions do not help you the first night say, "All right, my
brain was too active, so then tomorrow I will let down a bit."

Next night eat one or two dry crackers, chew them slowly, masticate them
thoroughly until you can swallow easily.

This little food will draw the blood pressure from the brain and help
you to go to sleep.

Drive out business and worry thoughts. Think faith and courage
thoughts.

MISTAKES

Not the Making But the Repeating, Is Your Danger

To live down the past and erase the errors, live boldly the present.

Do not chastise or condemn yourself for mistakes you have made; you are
not alone; everyone has made missteps, has hurt others, has wronged
himself.

Everyone has had trouble, reverses and misfortune; it's the plan of
things, and these things come to give us experience and correct our
future acts by the knowledge of how to avoid errors and wrongs.

Yesterday is dead; forget it. Face about; live today; be busy, be
active, be intent on doing right and accomplishing things worth while.

The world's memory is short. A misdeed, an error, a wrongful act on your
part may set busy tongues wagging today and you may suffer from calumny
and criticism. Of course your errors will be magnified and your wrongs
enlarged beyond the truth; that's the penalty you pay.

Lies are always added to truth in telling of one's misdeeds. Be brave;
weather the storm, it will soon blow over. Tomorrow the world will
forget.

You've suffered in your own conscience; that's all the debt you can pay
on the old score.

Now, then, get busy with the glorious opportunity today presents. Don't
make the same mistake again. There are no eyes in the back of your head;
look forward.

Don't worry by envying the other fellow and comparing his good deeds
with your mistakes; you only see his good. He has had troubles and made
mistakes too, but you and the world have forgotten them.

If every man's sins were printed on their foreheads the crowds you pass
would all wear their hats over their eyes.

I'm trying to comfort you, and slap you on the back and tell you you are
just human and all humans make false steps.

The patriarchs in the Bible made mistakes, but they got in the fold.
History has perpetuated their names. Their lives on the whole were worth
while. It's the sum total of acts that count.

TOMORROW

A Little Analysis of Our Relation to Eternity

One man says the present is everything, the eternity is nothing.

The other man says eternity is everything, present is nothing.

I believe the real truth is, both are man's chief concern, and neither
is all truth.

In this matter the general rule I have so often pointed out will
harmoniously apply; that rule is, avoid extremes.

Those who believe that the now, the present, is the all important thing
in man's life have the fashionable or favorite point of view.

Man definitely knows much about the present, he knows much about life.
He is in the midst of life--it pulsates all around him and in him.

We know positively that the law of compensation is inexorable in its
demands for right and positive in its punishment of wrong.

We know that on this earth kindness, love, occupation, help, truth,
honor and sympathy are investments which bring happiness today. You get
your pay instantly when you have done a helpful act and you get your
punishment instantly when you have done a hurtful act.

That there is a future most of us agree, because good sense and logic
points to that sane and reasonable conclusion.

So be it, with a belief in the future estate, it is reasonable to assume
that our acts and lives in the present estate will have influence on our
future estate.

We know positively of today, and the happiness we can get from good
deeds done today.

If we will have power in the future to look back to today's acts, well
and good, if today's acts are worth while.

The other view that eternity is everything and the present is nothing is
the antiquated view, the narrow view; the, I might say, illiterate view.

That view warps the present life; it calls for present
self-chastisement, present gloom, present sorrow and present misery.

It takes the tangible definite today, calls it nothing, and accepts the
intangible unknown eternity as everything.

It trades the definite for the indefinite. It calls life a bubble, a
vapor, a shadow. In fact, it makes gloom on today's sunshine and puts
its believers into a purgatory; a dismal unhappy punishment antechamber
where man exists and waits peeping out of his cell windows for a little
imagined view of eternity.

He waits and endures the unpleasant interval, steeled against definite
pleasures and evident life of today, and worried into an intoxicated
colored belief in the expected happiness of the undefined future.

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