And history clearly shows that the wise philosopher stated facts. Caligula slew his brother because he possessed a beauty that led him to be more esteemed and favored than he. Dionysius, the tyrant, was vindictive and cruel to Philoxenius, the musician, because he could sing; and with Plato, the philosopher, because he could dispute, better than himself. Even the great Cambyses slew his brother, Smerdis, because he was a stronger and better bowman than himself or any of his party. It was envy that led the courtiers of Spain to crave and seek the destruction of Columbus, and envy that set a score of enemies at the heels of Cortes, the conqueror of Peru. It is a fearful and vindictive devil, is this devil of envy, and he who yields to it, who once allows it admittance to the citadel of his heart, will soon learn that every subsequent waking and even sleeping moment is one of worry and distress. CHAPTER XVI DISCONTENT AND WORRY Closely allied to envy is discontent. These are blood relations, and both are prolific sources of worry. And lest there are those who think because I have revealed, in the preceding chapter, the demon of worry--envy--as one that attacks the minds of the great and mighty, it does not enter the hearts of everyday people, let me quote, entire, an article and a poem recently written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox in _The Los Angeles Examiner_. The discontent referred to clearly comes from envy. Some one has blond tresses, while she has black. This arouses her envy. She is envious because another's eyes are blue, while hers are brown; another is tall, while she is small; etc., etc. There is nothing, indeed, that she cannot weep and worry over: There is a certain girl I know, a pretty little elf, Who spends almost her entire thoughts in pity for herself. Her glossy tresses, raven black, cause her to weep a pond-- She is so sorry for herself because they are not blond. Her eyes, when dry, are very bright and very brown, 'tis true, But they are almost always wet, because they are not blue. She is of medium height, and when she sees one quite tall She weeps all day in keenest pain because she is so small. But if she meets some tiny girl whom she considers fair, Then that she is so big herself she sobs in great despair. When out upon a promenade her tears she cannot hide, To think she is obliged to walk while other folks can ride. But if she drives, why then she weeps--it is so hard to be Perched stiffly in a carriage seat while other girls run free. She used to cry herself quite sick to think she had to go Month after month to dreary schools; that was her constant woe. But on her graduating day, my, how her tears did run! It seemed so sorrowful to know that her school life was done. One day she wept because she saw a funeral train go by-- It was so sad that she must live while other folks could die.