I was hurt so badly that I wanted to fight them; but Mr. Loftin，the farmer who had taken me in， said to me： ‘Always rememberthat it takes a bigger man to walk away from a fight than it doesto stay and fight.’ I didn’t fight until one day a kid picked up somechicken manure from the schoolhouse yard and threw it in myface. I beat the hell out of him; and made a couple of friends.
They said he had it coming to him.
“I was proud of a new cap that Mrs. Loftin had bought me.
One day one of the big girls jerked it off my head and filled it withwater and ruined it. She said she filled it with water so that ‘thewater would wet my thick skull and keep my popcorn brains frompopping’。
“I never cried at school， but I used to bawl it out at home.
Then one day Mrs. Loftin gave me some advice that did away withall troubles and worries and turned my enemies into friends. Shesaid： ‘Ralph， they won’t tease you and call you an “orphan brat”
any more if you will get interested in them and see how muchyou can do for them.’ I took her advice. I studied hard; and I soonheaded the class. I was never envied because I went out of myway to help them.
“I helped several of the boys write their themes and essays.
I wrote complete debates for some of the boys. One lad wasashamed to let his folks know that I was helping him. So he usedto tell his mother he was going possum hunting. Then he wouldcome to Mr. Loftin’s farm and tie his dogs up in the barn while Ihelped him with his lessons. I wrote book reviews for one lad andspent several evenings helping one of the girls on her math’s.
“Death struck our neighbourhood. Two elderly farmers diedand one woman was deserted by her husband. I was the only malein four families. I helped these widows for two years. On my wayto and from school， I stopped at their farms， cut wood for them，milked their cows， and fed and watered their stock. I was nowblessed instead of cursed. I was accepted as a friend by everyone.
They showed their real feelings when I returned home from theNavy. More than two hundred farmers came to see me the first dayI was home.
Some of them drove as far as eighty miles， and their concernfor me was really sincere. Because I have been busy and happytrying to help other people， I have few worries; and I haven’t beencalled an ‘orphan brat’ now for thirteen years.”
Hooray for C. R. Burton！ He knows how to win friends！ Andhe also knows how to conquer worry and enjoy life.
So did the late Dr. Frank Loope， of Seattle， Washington. He wasan invalid for twenty-three years. Arthritis. Yet Stuart Whithouseof the Seattle Star wrote me， saying： “I interviewed Dr. Loopemany times; and I have never known a man more unselfish or aman who got more out of life.”
How did this bed-ridden invalid get so much out of life? I’llgive you two guesses. Did he do it by complaining and criticising?
No… By wallowing in self-pity and demanding that he be the centreof attention and everyone cater to him? No… Still wrong. He did it by adopting as his slogan the motto of the Prince of Wales： “Ichdien” — “I serve.” He accumulated the names and addresses of otherinvalids and cheered both them and himself by writing happy，encouraging letters. In fact， he organised a letterwriting club forinvalids and got them writing letters to one another. Finally， heformed a national organisation called the Shut-in Society.
As he lay in bed， he wrote an average of fourteen hundred lettersa year and brought joy to thousands of invalids by getting radios andbooks for shut-ins.
What was the chief difference between Dr. Loope and a lot ofother people? Just this： Dr. Loope had the inner glow of a manwith a purpose， a mission. He had the joy of knowing that hewas being used by an idea far nobler and more significant thanhimself， instead of being as Shaw put it： “a selfcentred， little clodof ailments and grievances complaining that the world would notdevote itself to making him happy.”
Here is the most astonishing statement that I ever read fromthe pen of a great psychiatrist. This statement was made by AlfredAdler. He used to say to his melancholia patients： “You can becured in fourteen days if you follow this prescription. Try to thinkevery day how you can please someone.”
That statement sounds so incredible that I feel I ought to tryto explain it by quoting a couple of pages from Dr. Adler’s splendidbook， What Life Should Mean to You.
“Melancholia，” says Adler in What Life Should Mean to You：“is like a long-continued rage and reproach against others， thoughfor the purpose of gaining care， sympathy and support， the patientseems only to be dejected about his own guilt. A melancholiac’s firstmemory is generally something like this： ‘I remember I wanted to lieon the couch， but my brother was lying there. I cried so much that hehad to leave.’
“Melancholiacs are often inclined to revenge themselves bycommitting suicide， and the doctor’s first care is to avoid giving theman excuse for suicide. I myself try to relieve the whole tension byproposing to them， as the first rule in treatment， ‘Never do anythingyou don’t like.’ this seems to be very modest， but I believe that itgoes to the root of the whole trouble If a melancholiac is able to doanything he wants， whom can he accuse? What has he got to revengehimself for? ‘If you want to go to the theatre，’ I tell him， ‘or to go on aholiday， do it. If you find on the way that you don’t want to， stop it.’ Itis the best situation anyone could be in. It gives a satisfaction to hisstriving for superiority. He is like God and can do what he pleases.
On the other hand， it does not fit very easily into his style of life.
He wants to dominate and accuse others and if they agree with himthere is no way of dominating them. This rule is a great relief and Ihave never had a suicide among my patients.