YOUNG people sometimes play the game of "Consequences." The sport increases in proportion to the strangeness of the results. Perhaps the reason the game has so many attractions is the fact that life is a long story of consequences. There are people who do not like to play the game of life seriously because they say the consequences of self-denial and self-sacrifice are too uncertain; they prefer the cowardice of inaction to the courage of purposeful living. The folks worth while are those who, refusing to be troubled by what may or may not be the consequences of their acts, still have the pluck to go on with what they know is right. Let the results be what they may, they propose to be straightforward and true. This is the courage that counts. There may be uncertainty as to the specific form the results of their stand may take, yet that result is sure to be pleasing and helpful. I VENTURING When Washington Irving was about to return to America from Madrid, where he had been minister of the United States to the court of Spain, the Philadelphia house that had been publishing his books, discouraged by the decreasing sales, sent word to him that the public was not able to appreciate his books, and they would have to allow them to go out of print. The books had been printed directly from the type, so there were no plates which another publisher might use to bring out further editions at small expense. The author, who was then sixty-five years of age, sorrowfully accepted the verdict of his publisher, and planned to take desk-room in the New York office of his brother, John Treat Irving, where he hoped to make a living by the practice of law. But this was not to be. In New York was a young publisher who believed that Washington Irving's works were classics, and that the American public would buy them eagerly if properly approached. Friends told him that he might make a mistake, but he had the courage to go ahead. So he wrote to the discouraged author what must have seemed to other publishers a daring letter; he proposed to publish new editions of all Irving's old books, on condition that new books, also, be given to him; and he promised that royalties for the first year should be at least one thousand dollars, for the second year two thousand dollars, and for the third year three thousand dollars. When Irving received the letter, he kicked over the desk in front of him, at the same time saying to his brother: "There is no necessity, John, for my bothering with the law. Here is a fool of a publisher going to give me a thousand dollars a year for doing nothing." But the publisher was not so foolish as he seemed. His promises were more than made good. Sales were large. Other authors were attracted, until the publishing house became one of the leaders among American publishers.