What I think after thinking

Front matter

SECOND EDITION.

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By HaiJ 60c.

Chapter I. The Object Of Life

The object of life is the attainment of happiness.

Happiness, like everything else, depends upon and is governed by natural law.

It depends upon capacity to meet or subdue want.

The great problem constantly on the blackboard of life for solution is not how to get rid of our wants entirely, but how to meet and subdue them.

But a single glance at this subject is sufficient to reveal its enormous size and importance. It is so large and peculiar it can only be handled in a limited and peculiar way ; principally in sections and small pieces. It would be impossible to take the subject of want all in, and view it on all sides at once, or during a life.

To solve the probl ^m of how to meet and subdue our wants is about like trying to stand on a round ball in the middle of an ocean; if the ball could be overcome the ocean could not ; so between the two, the one trying to stand or balance in this way would be kept unceasingly busy bobbing around both above and below the waves.

This is the way it is, in trying to solve the never ending, ever changing demands of want ; one minute we are on top, and the next our wants are on top of us.

The subject of want is not only an exceedingly large and peculiar one, but in many respects a delicate one to handle. It is not always pleasant or safe to approach others on the nature of their wants or their capacity to meet them, or even suggest, when we know what they want, what they should do. And it is equally unpleasant at times to have suggestions made to us about ours. The size and peculiar nature of this subject is self-evident ; while want is a state man is constantly in, and contending with in some form to meet or subdue, at the same time it is dangerous to overdo the subduing process.

When a man subdues his wants, or anyone else does it for him, so they go off and quit coming around any more, his occupation is gone, and he has to go too ; he is permanently broken up.

When a man gets so he don't want anything, that is the end of him ; he has to take up a residence in another world. He is not allowed to lie around or even remain on top of earth without wants.

This seems rather strange and sad, but it is true ; just as soon as a man quits calling on friends and neighbors, he is dropped out of sight ; and the hardest part of it is, he is never sure of getting what he wants when around and does call for it.

Our wants are peculiar, and noticeable principally on account of their size, great variety and frequency, the length of time they stay, and how we feel before and after meeting them. Some only come occasionally, but when once here stay to the end of life ; others drop around regularly every day, apparently to make friendly calls, but have .to be subdued before they can be induced to subside. They appear mild and gentle enough when they approach, but if not soon given attention they commence grumbling, and if not promptly waited on they kick, and after this hit so hard a good able-bodied man cannot stand them off or stand up against them only a short time. The best he can do when in good health is to hold them down a few hours; then they get on top and hold him down till he cries enough and gets up and treats them to everything at his command.

Wants do not always come single handed and alone, but sometimes in swarms and droves. Neither do they assault only one place at a time, but often hit the outside, the inside, the front and rear all at once.

There is one that calls us out of a warm bed in the morning to get breakfast. This is no sooner over and the dishes washed than the same thing suggests it will soon be time for dinner. This is out of the way, and the floor swept, and the same persistent thing suggests, "you must be thinking about supper/' And after waiting on it all day, it is an actual fact that it often comes around at bedtime, and tries to get subdued the fourth time in the same day ; and would succeed if there was anything at hand with which to do it or the doctor had not ordered a fast.

No wonder life is called a struggle, when every live being has a pack of wants following him like a pack of devouring wolves.

The constitution of the United States guarantees to every man, woman and child "the pursuit of happiness," but it does not guarantee that a single one will ever overtake and capture the smallest part of it.

As everything is made the subject of legislation, from the standard of values to department stores, an amendment should be made to the constitution of the United States, not only guaranteeing the ptfrsuit of happiness but the capture of the much-run-after object.

Here is an opportunity for some enterprising reformer to supply a deficiency in the foundation of our govern* ment that would be appreciated by all.

Chapter II. What Want Really Is

Want is the motive power that moves the long and varied train of life and keeps all in motion.

We find as passengers on this train everybody and everything. Not only the beggar is here, worrying himself and others, because he is a beggar, but the millionaire is an anxious and troubled passenger on the train of life, worrying along with gold for baggage ; worrying about that which he has and about getting more.

The preacher, the teacher, the dude, the politician, the law maker, the law breaker, the sick, the well, the pure, the vicious, kings, queens, judges, presidents, the gay, the sorrowing, the infant drawing its first breath and old age drawing its last are all passengers on the long and varied train of life, whirling and thundering over the track of time, drawn by the never ceasing, ever puffing engine of want.

There are no stops or stations along this highway ; passengers stepping from the train of life do so with it running at full speed ; with a speed so great that when they step off they are hurled six feet in the ground to stay.

Friends groan and moan when they see fellow passengers alight, but rush on with the flying train, leaving those who quit the journey to be cared for, they know not whether by imps or angels. On it rushes, on it rumbles ; into forests of darkness, over swamps of evil, through fields of peril, up mountains of labor, into the valley of death, it crashes and plunges.

Notwithstanding its speed and dangers, more get on than off ; everyone seems anxious to take a limited ticket on this through flyer. Why? Because it has Faith for a headlight and Hope for a signal behind.

Chapter III. Natural Law

If happiness is the object of life, and its foundation is natural law, to attain the greatest of all objects, the one that is the light of life, it is necessary to look into and study natural law.

The foundation of natural law is,

THE NATURE OF NATURE. .

Like everything else, nature is founded on natural law.

Its foundation is the Universal Trinity.

Nature is a very large Trinity within itself.

Its parts are the animate, the inanimate and conscious animate.

The inanimate embraces the earth — all that grows from and is deposited in it.

The animate embraces all living things that move.

The conscious animate is that part of nature known as MAN.

This is the crowning part, the part which towers above the unthinking like a lofty mountain above the level of a low plain. This part is not only aware of its own existence and that of surrounding objects, but possesses the quality of being able to investigate and appropriate the other parts to itself as well as sit in judgment upon itself in so doing.

It reflects upon the object of its creation and the nature and object of the creator in creating it.

It possesses the power of weighing things inferior and superior, natural and spiritual, finite and infinite.

The conscious animate, or man part of nature, is that quality or principle in nature through which the other parts are made known.

Through the trinity of nature we trace the trinity of all other things. All things belong to nature, bear its impress and are governed by natural law.

Chapter IV. The Universal Trinity

This is the foundation of all foundations, including nature and natural law.

This is the first and greatest of all subjects.

This is the reason why all other subjects exist.

This is the light and power behind life.

It is impossible for anything to have a beginning or an ending without coming from and returning back into this Trinity.

This being the first cause of all, it is the most important of all things to look into and study.

THE UNIVERSAL TRINITY

is founded on the infinite and universal principle that the union of two different bodies or substances creates a third, the nature of the third being like the two united.

It is also a law of the universal trinity that all things have parentage.

It is also a law of the universal trinity that everything is a trinity in nature, because it springs from a trinity.

18 HIE FAMILY CIRCLE IS A TRINITY.

Its members arc the father, the mother and the offspring. Without these parts united it is not a perfect family circle, it is only a part of a circle; to be a complete circle it must be a trinity.

MAN IS A COMPOUND TRINITY.

In nature he is earthly, animal and spiritual; moral, mental and physical.

His beginning is a trinity and his ending is a trinity. He comes forth through inception, conception and birth, and passes away through infancy, manhood and old age.

TIME IS A TRINITY.

Its parts are the past, the present aw the future.

As the union of two different bodies or conditions creates a third, the third being like the two united, if a man unites himself with the Prince of Light the fruit of the union is good ; if with the Princ2 of Darkness the fruit of the- union is evil, and the spirit of evil is manifested instead of that of goodness.

"By their fruits ye shall know them. ,,

"Tor of thorns men do not gather figs, nor of bramble bushes gather they grapes,"

Never was natural law more clearly recognized and taught than by the Holy Savior.

He taught that a union with good produces good fruii,

and with evil, evil fruit. This is natural law in the purest

and simplest form. The fruit of any union is a trinity,

but in nature it may be exactly opposite.

It makes a vast difference with what we unite and what unites with us.

Here is where good judgment and good sense are of superlative value.

Success in life depends upon being a judge of propei unions ; happiness and misery are embraced in this, which is true of matrimony, politics, religion, business and friends.

That with which we unite has an influence and affects us either for good or bad ; hence the importance of wise unions.

Chapter V. The Key To The Front Door

Please look at this key and see where it belongs.

It is the key to the front, not the back, door.

The front door is the proper entrance to a house; all intelligent people go there and press the button on the outside, if there is one, then wait for those on the inside to do the rest.

NOTICE.

Do not pound at the back end of the house, but ring the bell in front. The back door is bolted on the inside, the windows are fastened down and the domestic is out making calls. Your humble servant is in charge of the front door to-day ; walk in, have a seat, and if you please let us look over and talk over the general arrangement of the great mansion in which we find ourselves.

Natural law is the key to the front door of all knowledge and all development. Therefore, the study of nature is the only way to unlock the order of creation, gain knowledge and make advancement.

Nature held sway as the only teacher long centuries before the printing press and books existed, and it will continue to hold sway long centuries after they are forgotten and gone.

The study of nature is like the study of music ; after learning one part on its key board it is not so hard to get the second, and so on. Everything grows easier and clearer through study and practice.

Chapter VI. My Experience With Music

I am not a musician or even a small part of one. I took up the violin when a boy, but was not long in becoming convinced that the world and all the neighbors would be just as happy and well off if I laid it down again.

I caught the musical fever from hearing a neighbor boy play "Old Dan Tucker." This was the only piece he pretended to, or could, play, but to me it was wonderful and delightful.

He said it was very easy to master the violin and a very pleasant business to carry on after once mastered. Taking his word for it, I walked twelve miles in the mud and purchased what was represented as a very fine instrument. A complete outfit was triumphantly secured for four dollars and carried home. The bow cost one dollar and fifty cents, and the main instrument, with strings, keys, bridge, sounding post and tail piece thrown in, cost two dollars and fifty cents.

Every one who saw it, and especially after hearing it, said the bow was a great bargain, but that two dollars and fifty cents in good money was altogether too much for the main piece of furniture — notwithstanding the free trimmings.

The only one in the neighborhood to go to for instruction was the boy who played "Old Dan Tucker." It was a mile over marshes and through woods to reach this musical genius, but no time was lost in getting to him.

He strung up my prize instrument, tuned it, and rosined my new bow. He did not play by note; he said notes were only intended for those who did not know enough to play without them. That where one had talent of his own, notes were only in the way. He* played by what he called "rote."

He showed me just how many times to draw the bow on an open string; which string to draw it on; which finger to put down first and where to put it, and so on, till he had shown me every move to make from start to finish. I still regarded him with wonder and admiration. This instruction pertained solely and alone to playing "Old Dan Tucker"; it could not be transferred and used anywhere else, or for any other purpose.

Then we commenced, and "Old Dan Tucker" never got a worse tuckering on earth than we gave him before letting up. We tuckered away for hours. At the end of this first lesson and effort the perspiration poured off me as from a plantation slave picking cotton under a hot sun.

My instructor was full of high ambition and pride; he wanted me to learn to play what he called a "full tune" the first time I took up an instrument. He wanted it for two reasons. He said it would be a good advertisement for him as a teacher, as well as a fine showing for my talent ; that if I could do this, it would "surprise and delight the old folks at home/* and they would be more willing to have me practice in the house ; that they would buy all necessary fiddle strings, thinking that some day I might be a great player. He spoke from experience and wanted to steer me clear of breakers, as he was driven to the barn to enjoy his talent. I fully agreed with him; then we sawed away more enthusiastically than ever on "Old Dan Tucker."

When ready to go, after my first lesson and effort, he pronounced me in every way a promising and satisfactory pupil ; in fact, up to his idea of what a beginner should be. Before leaving, he went all over my new instrument to see that it was in perfect tune ; he put more rosin on my new bow, and started me off in the best possible condition to "surprise and delight the old folks at home."

But before reaching home I fell down, and some of the keys slipped; all plans vanished. I could not tune a violin any more than I could fly. So I immediately returned to get my instructor to go home with me and take his own sweet instrument along. My efforts were successful.

When everything was pronounced in order, we started in to "surprise and delight the old folks." We succeeded in surprising them, but they did not say a word about being delighted.

Before leaving me alone again, in possession of a new instrument, he gave me very complete instructions about keeping it. I supposed the best way to keep it was not to put a chattel mortgage on it. But this was not what he wished to tell me. He said the violin was a very delicate as well as a very sweet instrument ; that it could not be exposed to heat or cold without affecting it, any more than a delicate girl could sleep with her feet out of a window in a cold room without getting cold and making her feel out of tune next day — in short, unstrung. That it should be kept dry, but not allowed to hang too directly over a red hot cook stove. That it improved by age and use ; that in reality, where one was able, it should be put in a silk bag and kept in a box, but not the woodbox behind the stove.

He cautioned me very particularly about painting and varnishing too often ; all he said was committed to memory, and not having a silk bag or any particular kind of box, I wrapped it in one of my best shirts and laid it carefully away in a large trunk all by itself.

After he had gone, I asked my mother how she was impressed with my instructor. She said all the players she had ever seen or heard took hold of the lower end of the bow instead of grasping it with the full hand in the middle ; that they did not stamp their feet hard enough to break a hole in a barn floor or spit on the keys to make them stick.

This did not indicate to me, however, which style she liked best, that of my instructor or those she had heard and seen previously.

The next night, bright and early, I went to take a second lesson ; or rather put in the second night on the first. We sawed on the same old tune till tired out.

My instructor said he was not old enough to know whether age improved the violin or not, but if there was anything in use doing it, we would have two of the best fiddles in the United States inside of six months. It is not bragging, if I do say it myself, never did instructor and pupil work harder to succeed. I was proud of him, and he was the first one who ever seemed perfectly bound Up in me. After about a year of constant practice on this one piece, by not allowing our minds to wander and get m anything else, we had "Old Dan Tucker" down to what we both agreed was a "fine point."

I could make every flourish and quirk just when he did, and as he did, including time-keeping with both feet. We were like two pulleys on one shaft run by the same belt. We were Siamese twins in music, joined together by fiddle-strings instead of a string of flesh.

After becoming master of "Old Dan Tucker," he surprised me one day by saying, "I have caught another tune."

"Where and how did you catch it?" I asked.

He had such perfect confidence in me he would tell me where he caught everything. He had been to a country dance, and while looking perfectly natural and not showing any signs on the surface that anything unusual or important was going on inside his head, he memorized one of the player's best pieces through his ear, without seeing it with his eyes, and brought it all home with him in his mind-in perfect order.

The name of this piece was, "O Jennie, My Toes Are Sore."

I thought I should go wild when I heard it; it was different from "Old Dan Tucker." It had tweedle dums and tweedle dees all through and over it. It had a high part and a low 7 part, and he put in a large number of variations, which I supposed at the time were regular parts of the "new tune," but found out later were his own improvisations.

I had become such an ape at imitating him, we played this piece together in a surprisingly short time. All he had to do was to make a motion and I duplicated it. If he scratched his head, I scratched mine. If he swung on a high limb or head down in the cage, I did the same. Whatever string he sawed or fingered, I sawed and fingered exactly the same. Whatever gesture he made I repeated it, and felt that in so doing perfection itself was being reflected.

We were so pleased and delighted in being able to play what he called "two tunes" that we looked for a third, and in addition to "Old Dan Tucker" and "O Jennie, My Toes Are Sore," we captured "The Camels Are Coming" ; then "Haste to the Wedding" ; then "The Soldier's Joy." Things came so easy and fast now, the first thing we knew we were playing "The Devil's Dream," "Fisher's Hornpipe" and "Money Musk" at country dances, and unwinding "The Grand Opera Reel" under his interpretation and leadership.

He finally became master of such a master mind that he could stand on the outside of a hall with his ear to the keyhole, and carry away a whole night's program without being detected or suspected of anything wrong. He might be crammed full of new pieces taken in through his ear at a keyhole and walk off perfectly sober and natural without staggering, so great was his capacity and selfpossession.

As before stated, after getting the first piece it is not so hard to get the second, and so on. Everything grows easier through study and practice, whether it is following a country boy's fingers on a violin to learn "Old Dan Tucker," or delving into the depths of nature to find the key to the front door of knowledge and development.

After getting the first and simplest piece on nature's keyboard, although it may be imperfect, if perseverance and labor are continued, it opens the way to the second, which acts as a light to enable the first to be seen more clearly, and so on, to the third, until one finds himself going on and on, through numberless worlds or wandering like an exile on the shores of time in boundless space.

It is impossible to tell what my life might have been had my instructor lived. He was taken away young. The last time I saw him he was on a spirited horse going to play for a country dance in the.winter of 1863. He had his violin in a grain sack, tied around his neck, hanging down his back.

A young man, a soldier in the army who had been in a hospital sick, had been given a furlough to come home to recruit his health. Friends had made a dancing party to cheer him up by celebrating his return-, and my instructor was invited to furnish the music. He was then on his way, he said, to tangle the country girls up in a dizzy waltz and make a sick soldier feel like returning to the army to be shot at for his country.

I met him at a road crossing called "Miller's Corners/' where two roads crossed and are still crossing each other on Stillwell prairie in La Porte County, State of Indiana.

In the center of these roads stood a post covered with guide boards pointing the way to different points. One board pointed west, and said, so many miles to "Door Village and Valparaiso"; another pointed east to "Lemon's Bridge and Plymouth"; one pointed north to "La Porte," and one south to "Kingsbury and Union Mills."

I met him here on my way home from school. I was then principal of the "Bald Hill Seminary," and as much as I admired my old instructor and loved music I could not take one minute from this institution of learning, for I had to study night and day to keep ahead of the big classes, so they would not catch up and run over me in arithmetic, or some other common branch, or I might have gone with him.

OUR PATHS PARTED HERE FOREVER.

It turned out that the young man home from the army to recruit his health had been exposed to smallpox, and my instructor picked that up instead of any more new tunes, and the result was it forced him to lay down his violin and take up a harp.

say this change made me sad and lonesome does not express it. The charms of the violin vanished and I never felt prepared to accept a harp.

The first thing I did was to get vaccinated and try to find consolation in a few such pieces as "Lily Dale," "The Last Rose of Summer" and "Home, Sweet Home." But it was without comfort; lightning had struck so near my door, all desire for music was taken away. I read in the Bible where it said, "Two women shall be grinding together ; the one shall be taken and the other left." "There shall be two men in one bed." "Two men shall be in the field ; the one shall be taken and the other left." How clearly all this scripture came to me, only in my case two fiddlers were sawing on fiddles.

Being left without a live instructor, I got what is called an "Instruction Book," to see what could be gotten out of that ; but it was, just as my lamented instructor had told me, "only in the way."

All I could make out of it, or see in it, was a lot of characters and figures that looked like so many pothooks and little rings, painted black and hung out on a wire fence to dry. Still, I knew this could not be so, for they were so terribly dry when I looked at or went near them, they puckered me up all over.

At the end of these lines were a lot of figures standing on top of each other, marked 2-4, 3-4, 4-4 and 6-4 time.

These were altogether more and different kinds of time than I knew about or had ever had any experience with, and it was impossible to get up the slightest interest in these odd, dry, strange characters and dull numbers. What I wanted was a good time, such as I had been in the habit of having with a real live instructor. Not finding this in the book, the violin was given up ; I still have two, but for years they have remained as mute as the stone over my departed instructor's head.

Chapter VII. The Foundation Of Music And All Other Things

It was impossible to get an idea of the theory or foundation of music until after finding the key to the front door ; after this, not only the theory and foundation of music, but many other things were discovered.

For years I pounded at the back door, not knowing the key to the front was in plain sight. The fact is, I did not know the key when I saw it, and really did not know where to look for the front door. The most I knew was something was wanted and wanted badly, and not knowing where or how to get it, I stood and pounded at the back door something like a half century, without the slightest response or recognition from the inside.

No one even lifted the curtain at the back window to peep out to see who was there. About the same sights and conditions prevail around the back door of creation, and the same opportunities are afforded to see the inside of the great mansion and its beautiful appointments as are found anywhere, by looking at the outside of the back side wall of a structure to see its interior. The most found and seen around back doors are drowsy bugs and spiders that entertain themselves crawling up and down without knowing anything about or appreciating that which is within.

After pounding at the back door until white with age, I went around to the front door and tried something that was thought might be the key to the front door, and it flew open instantly; and here we are, in the most magnificent and wonderful of all mansions, planned and constructed by the Supreme Architect of the Universe. Now that we are here, let us look at its many charms and wonders, and gather all possible in reference to its appointments. Everything in existence, or that has been, is here, and bears the impress and likeness of the foundation walls.