for a wrench, removed a tap and a plate, peered in, then carefully
picked out a piece of cotton waste and replaced the plate and tap.
"Now open your throttle," he said to the engineer. The big engine
moved off like a thing of life, pulleys began to whirl and belts to
whirr, and a thousand hands resumed their work.

In the office the expert handed in his memorandum charge. It was fifty
dollars and fifty cents.

"It is all right," said the superintendent, "we're glad to pay it,
but would you mind telling me what the fifty cents is for?"

The expert smiled, "Why, that is my charge for the one minute spent in
locating your trouble, the fifty dollars is for _knowing how_."

Fellows, your life is a great big costly engine, built with infinite
skill, and you are the engineer. It is a wonderful thing running that
engine,--wonderful because it is the motive power to turn many wheels
and affect many lives. Rightly understood and properly handled it will
produce great values, and be a blessing to the world. Misunderstood
and carelessly handled, it will cause loss and suffering to you and
perhaps many others.

As a boy, I used to go to the engine room of my father's mill and
watch the engineer. Continually, he moved about, watching its
movements, its big flywheel half below in the pit, half above, and the
broad belt that glided over it and disappeared through the brick wall
into the mill; now he would be refilling the oil cups, now noting the
steam gauge, or polishing the shining brass trimmings almost with a
caress. He was the first man on hand in the morning, and the last man