Does the grouch get richer quicker than the friendly sort of man? Can the grumbler labor better than the cheerful fellow can? Is the mean and churlish neighbor any cleverer than the one Who shouts a glad "good morning," and then smiling passes on? Just stop and think about it. Have you ever known or seen A mean man who succeeded, just because he was so mean? When you find a grouch with honors and with money in his pouch, You can bet he didn't win them just because he was a grouch. Oh, you'll not be any poorer if you smile along your way, And your lot will not be harder for the kindly things you say. Don't imagine you are wasting time for others that you spend: You can rise to wealth and glory and still pause to be a friend. {15} MY CREED To live as gently as I can; To be, no matter where, a man; To take what comes of good or ill And cling to faith and honor still; To do my best, and let that stand The record of my brain and hand; And then, should failure come to me, Still work and hope for victory. To have no secret place wherein I stoop unseen to shame or sin; To be the same when I'm alone As when my every deed is known; To live undaunted, unafraid Of any step that I have made; To be without pretense or sham Exactly what men think I am. To leave some simple mark behind To keep my having lived in mind; If enmity to aught I show, To be an honest, generous foe, To play my little part, nor whine That greater honors are not mine. This, I believe, is all I need For my philosophy and creed. {16} A WISH I'd like to be a boy again, a care-free prince of joy again, I'd like to tread the hills and dales the way I used to do; I'd like the tattered shirt again, the knickers thick with dirt again, The ugly, dusty feet again that long ago I knew. I'd like to play first base again, and Sliver's curves to face again, I'd like to climb, the way I did, a friendly apple tree; For, knowing what I do to-day, could I but wander back and play, I'd get full measure of the joy that boyhood gave to me. I'd like to be a lad again, a youngster, wild and glad again, I'd like to sleep and eat again the way I used to do; I'd like to race and run again, and drain from life its fun again, And start another round of joy the moment one was through. But care and strife have come to me, and often days are glum to me, {17} And sleep is not the thing it was and food is not the same; And I have sighed, and known that I must journey on again to sigh, And I have stood at envy's point and heard the voice of shame.