“Isn’t it possible, Mr. Choate,” I ventured, “that your having had little or no worry over poverty in your youth might cause you to underestimate the effect of it on another, and overestimate the importance of sticking with determination to an idea through wealth or deprivation?” “No,” he replied, after a few moments’ delay, in which he picked up one of the volumes near by as if to consult it; “no, the end to be attained makes important the need of hanging on. I am sure it is quite often more difficult to rise with money than without.” DOES SUCCESS BRING CONTENT AND HAPPINESS. “You have had long years of distinction and comfort; do you find that success brings content and happiness?” “Well,” he answered, contracting his brows with legal severity, “constant labor is happiness, and success simply means ability to do more labor,—more deeds far-reaching in their power and effect. Such success brings about as much happiness as the world provides.” “I mean,” I explained, “the fruits of that which is conventionally accepted as success; few hours of toil, a luxuriously furnished home, hosts of friends, the applause of the people, sumptuous repasts, and content in idleness, knowing that enough has been done.” “We never know that enough has been done,” said the lawyer. “All this sounds pleasant, but the truth is that the men whose great efforts have made such things possible for themselves are the very last to desire them. You have described what appeals to the idler, the energyless dreamer, the fashionable dawdler, and the listless voluptuary. Enjoyment of such things would sap the strength and deaden the ambition of a Lincoln. The man who has attained to the position where these things are possible is the one whose life has been a constant refutation of the need of these things. He is the one who has abstained, who has conserved his mental and physical strength by living a simple and frugal life. He has not taken more than he needed, and never, if possible, less. His enjoyment has been in working, and I guarantee that you will find successful men ever to be plain-mannered persons of simple tastes, to whom sumptuous repasts are a bore, and luxury a thing apart. They may live surrounded by these things, but personally take little interest in them, knowing them to be mere trappings, which neither add to nor detract from character.” THE DELUSION OF LUXURY AND EASE. “Is there no pleasure then in luxury and ease without toil?” I questioned. “None,” said the speaker emphatically. “There is pleasure in rest after labor. It is gratifying to relax when you really need relaxation, to be weary and be able to rest. But to enjoy anything you must first feel the need of it. But no more,” he said, putting up his hand conclusively. “Surely you have enough to make clear what you wish to know.”