ence distinct sensations, feelings, and emotions, pleasurable with the one and discomforting and depressing with the other? Recall these and grant, if you please, that psychical as well as physical emanations are real and that they are not as unsubstantial as "boiled cobwebs," as some melancholy materialists would have you believe. Apropos of cobwebs the spider is a glorious example for you. Is not the web he spins an inspiriting symbol of the power within you that creates the conditions that surround you? With equal ease he swings a gossamer hammock in a corner of a castle or a barn; or loops his filmy threads to tree

twigs or spreads his fragile net on spears of delicate grass that serve as pillars for his home near the ground. No matter where he builds it is the same sort of illusion-a tangible veil of mist. Does this not hint to you the meaning of the following significant words? "The covetousness, or the malignity which saddens me when I ascribe it to society, is my own. I am always environed by myself." And those elusive gray strands that the spider projects, are they not visible emanations? He decorates or disfigures according to where he builds. Art has never been able to reproduce in gem or lace the exquisite beauty

of the web of a spider woven on grass-tips and studded with sunlighted dewdrops. No crystal has ever been glorified with more beautiful, prismatic coloring than that which idealizes a spider's home hung on a tree or between old posts. The light breaking on the perfect angles formed by the geometric lines of delicate gossamer, makes the fragile thing seem woven of the intangible radiations of a rainbow.

But what a bit of dirty fluff a spider's web is in a clean white hallway or pretty living-room? Many of us like the spider choose the wrong corner in which to weave our web of life. A spider is a poem

-but like many another celebrity he is not judged by the highest and best expression of himself, and his vices have been made more prominent than his virtues, except one, his great unfailing industry, his courage to stick to what he has once begun despite repeated attacks and defeats. A poet long ago sang in verse the praises of this superb quality of the indefatigable weaver. But not to digress -if you grant that your thought is a force and that you can direct this force, and that you create an atmosphere round about you that either attracts or repels, what is the first thing you must do if you wish to succeed in any enterprise?

CHAPTER IV.

TO MAKE YOURSELF A VALUE.

You

will first, as suggested in What Dress Makes of Us, endeavor to find out if your appearance is for or against your inner self. You will observe whether your clothes are caricaturing the lines of your body and the features of your face; or advertising to the world that you are a vain, erratic creature, or a slovenly disheartened one. You will note whether your body is truthfully revealing your real self, your spirit. When you remember that every thought is a chisel literally carving