quieting exercises which she practised every day; and when one day,
in the midst of one of her lessons, Margaret seemed very quiet and
restful, the teacher asked:--

"Margaret, could you worry about your Latin now if you tried?"

"Yes," said Margaret, "I am afraid I could."

Nothing more was said, but she went on with her lessons, and several
days after, during the same restful quiet time, the teacher ventured
again.

"Now, Margaret, could you worry about your Latin if you tried?"

Then came the emphatic answer, _"No, I could not."_

After that the little girl would say:

"With the part of me that worries, I do not care whether I get my
Latin or not; with the part of me that does not worry, I want to get
my Latin very much; therefore I will stay in the part of me that
does not worry, and get my Latin."

A childish argument, and one that may be entirely incomprehensible
to many minds, but to those who do comprehend, it represents a very
real and practical help.

It is, in most cases, a grave mistake to, reason with a worry. We
must first drop the worry, and then do our reasoning. If to drop the
worry seems impossible, we can separate ourselves from it enough to