essential work after all. It's a kind of habit we get into, a sort of
madness, like the thing that overtakes the crowd at a ferry landing or
the entrance to a train. I've seen men, and women, too, fairly fight
to get onto a particular car when the next car would have done just
exactly as well.

Where are they going in such a hurry? To save a life? To mend a broken
heart? To help to heal a wounded spirit? Or are they just rushing
because the rest do it?

What do they get out of life--these people who are always in a rush?

Look! The laurel tree in my California garden is full of bursting
buds! The rains are beginning and the trees will soon be flecked with
a silver veil of blossoms. I hadn't noticed it before. I've been too
busy.

What's your hurry? Come, friend of my heart, I'll say that to you
to-day and say it in deep and friendly earnest.

What's your hurry? Come, let's go for a walk together and see
if we can find out. Let us keep finding out through all the
new year.

There are many other causes of worry, some of them so insidious, so
powerful, as to call for treatment in special chapters.