Rosicrucian Writings Online

In Lighter Vein

[From The American Rosae Crucis February 1916]

MISS THEODORA DAUB, registrar New York School of Accounts, has written a captivating folder on Potato Proclivities, which we take liberty to reprint, because it tells some fundamental truths in a lighter vein:
"It is a most singular fact, if you run your spring cart over a rough road, all the small potatoes will go to the bottom."
I'll bet you never thought of Life itself in that light, did you?
Yet isn't it so? Aren't we all crowded pell mell into Life's busy shuttle--the good, the bad, the zealous, the lazy, the indifferent, the fit and unfit--and away we go bumping to and fro, as the wheels grate over the rocks of adversity, disappointment, uncertainty, hardship, injustice, misunderstanding? And do not the "small potatoes" go to the bottom? They do, you may rely upon it. They all snuggle down, solid, and there they stay, packed together, and never come up again.
But the "Big" ones are on top. They are not crowded. Their geographical position, moreover, favors them. Their size and worth, utility and beauty, stand out where Opportunity can easily pick them for preferment.
Now if you're a "small potato," and all the big ones are jostling the breath out of you, why not resolve to BECOME "Big!" That's where we humans have the advantage. WE CAN SHAPE OUR DESTINIES!
Nothing in the world--no hard luck, depressing surroundings, no disappointment, hope deferred, can keep you down when once that spark of ambition is enkindled within you.
What makes of the one a Success and of the other, a Failure? IT'S DISSATISFACTION. Dissatisfaction with yourself. Not the whimpering, belly-aching, envious kind of dissatisfaction; but just healthful unrest. A desire to be something bigger, better, more worth-while. And now-a-days the facilities for self-betterment are so encouraging, that no man need to lag behind.
Betterment means increased efficiency. Heightened efficiency commands better pay, and both put you out of the "bottom-layer"--where someone can see you, and snap you up for still better things!
You don't always want to live in a flat no bigger than a three-cent piece; you don't want just to look, year after year, at that Sixty-dollar overcoat in the window, and wear a shivery, half-wool affair for Ten bucks, marked down from Fifteen; you don't forever want to slant at the Bill-of-Fare with that "bi-focal" dexterity, measuring in your mind's eye what'll fill up the biggest gap for the least money; and maybe, too, long suffering mother needs a new dress, or a rest in the country. It's a mighty nice thing to live on "Easy" street, both for yourself, and those near and dear to you.
Get some of the good things of life. Go after them--legitimately! Not as one of Tom Osborne's "Trusty's" said, when a fund being raised by the Prison Welfare League did not swell quickly enough--"Oh, if only Tom would let one of us fellows out for a couple of hours!"
Let yourself "out" a couple of hours, a couple of nights a week to go after a "Fund" of knowledge, and you'll be surprised yourself at the end of a short few months how much bigger and rounder, how much more efficient, you will be.
A keen buyer cops the apples that won't go through the "3" sieve--they sell better; and keen business men have their eyes open constantly for the fellow with that "different" air about him. You have brain--perhaps not enough initiative; why not now study, and prepare to get a place for yourself that's worth while.
IT'S JANUARY FIRST--Think it over, and act; for Tempus fugit, and unless you take some action, next January first you'll still be down in the bottom of the spring cart, snugly ensconced among the "small potatoes." Small potatoes are fine for hash and salad--let's raise you to the "Banquet" size.
There are 365 golden days ahead of you. Jack up your Energies now--on the first day, and resolve to get a place in the Sun.
(We assure our Readers that if this is read aloud it will give them the heartiest, cleanest laugh they have enjoyed in many a day.)
In a little town in the Middle West there were two rival weekly papers. One of them, the Saturday Herald, was militant in its attitude against the political wrong-doings in the county and in its crude way was offering what seemed to many as preachments. The other paper was the organ of the politicians and was not only embarrassed by the editorials in the Herald but by the rapid increase of the Herald's circulation.
Just prior to the regular Wednesday's preparation of the Herald, the printing office was broken into by some one who, strangely, stole nothing else than all the letters of one kind from every case of type in the place. The letter was S. There was not an S to be found in the shop on Wednesday morning when the compositors began their work of setting up the Saturday issue.
The Editor at once realized that the robbery was an attempt to cripple his next issue rather than to obtain anything of value. It was a disheartening predicament--almost insurmountable. But the Editor was witty, resourceful and believed that nothing was impossible when the WILL was right. He would do without the letter S and use TH in its place.
His paper appeared the following Saturday as usual, and its leading Editorial was as follows:
(What follows should be read aloud to be appreciated.)
Theeing that we have undertaken a great good work for our city thome people have become very thore. They have theen the handwriting on the wall and they thtoop to almotht any act to hinder uth. But we cannot be thtopped in our work. The latetht mean thing they have done ith to break into our thhop and thteal all our "thetheth" tho that we have to have greater difficulty in thetting up our paper. But you cannot cheat the Lord in thith way. The good Lord doeth not need "thetheth" in order to make Himthelf underthtood, nor do we.
It ith like unto many other thingth in thith city. All the mean, thly, thneaky trickth of the thinner are being practithed on uth by thethe thcoundrelth. They have no conthcience, no moralth, no thtandardth, nothing but thin in the bottomth of their hearth. But they thhall thee the writing on the wallth again and then the Lord will thtrike down upon them and thhow them that he who thtealth and thwearth, and cuththeth, and lieth and cheatth and doeth all the thingth that he thhould not do will never enter the Kingdom of the Lord or be bleththed.
The publishers of this magazine are convinced that there are many human automatons walking the streets of New York, automatons, whose finer mechanisms are in great need of adjustment and balancing, both physically and mentally. The other day one of these self-assertive cranks visited us to find out if we were connected with the Masonic fraternity and when informed that such was not the case began to pour out an overflowing measure of vitriolic sentiments against that body.
When we took him to account and showed him how wrong he was, getting the admission that he knew nothing about MASONRY, and such being the case his jeremiad was indefensible, he condescendingly informed us that we did not have the philosopher's stone, nor were we TRUE Rosaecrucians, because we did not have the "sign of the double triangle" on our temple.
We had no camera handy, nor would he give his name (probably some sense still was left in his cranium), and he did not answer when invited to state how and where he was raised, wherefore we are unable to introduce a real Rosaecrucian to our many readers.

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