THE "GOLDFISH" Being the Confessions af a Successful Man EDITED BY ARTHUR TRAIN 1921 [Illustration: Arthur Train from the drawing by S.J. Woolf] "They're like 'goldfish' swimming round and round in a big bowl. They can look through, sort of dimly; but they can't get out?"--_Hastings_, p. 315. CONTENTS MYSELF MY FRIENDS MY CHILDREN MY MIND MY MORALS MY FUTURE "We have grown literally afraid to be poor. We despise any one who elects to be poor in order to simplify and save his inner life. We have lost the power of even imagining what the ancient idealization of poverty could have meant--the liberation from material attachments; the unbribed soul; the manlier indifference; the paying our way by what we are or do, and not by what we have; the right to fling away our life at any moment irresponsibly--the more athletic trim, in short the moral fighting shape.... It is certain that the prevalent fear of poverty among the educated class is the worst moral disease from which our civilization suffers." William James, p. 313. CHAPTER I MYSELF "My house, my affairs, my ache and my religion--" I was fifty years old to-day. Half a century has hurried by since I first lay in my mother's wondering arms. To be sure, I am not old; but I can no longer deceive myself into believing that I am still young. After all, the illusion of youth is a mental habit consciously encouraged to defy and face down the reality of age. If, at twenty, one feels that he has reached man's estate he, nevertheless, tests his strength and abilities, his early successes or failures, by the temporary and fictitious standards of youth. At thirty a professional man is younger than the business man of twenty-five. Less is expected of him; his work is less responsible; he has not been so long on his job. At forty the doctor or lawyer may still achieve an unexpected success. He has hardly won his spurs, though in his heart he well knows his own limitations. He can still say: "I am young yet!" And he is. But at fifty! Ah, then he must face the facts! He either has or has not lived up to his expectations and he never can begin over again. A creature of physical and mental habit, he must for the rest of his life trudge along in the same path, eating the same food, thinking the same thoughts, seeking the same pleasures--until he acknowledges with grim reluctance that he is an old man. I confess that I had so far deliberately tried to forget my approaching fiftieth milestone, or at least to dodge it with closed eyes as I passed it by, that my daughter's polite congratulation on my demicentennial anniversary gave me an unexpected and most unpleasant shock. "You really ought to be ashamed of yourself!" she remarked as she joined me at breakfast. "Why?" I asked, somewhat resenting being thus definitely proclaimed as having crossed into the valley of the shadows. "To be so old and yet to look so young!" she answered, with charming _voir-faire_.