and can recall it with less repetition of words, or without words at
all. When the feeling of nervous annoyance is roused by the other,
counteract it on the instant by repeating silently: "I am quite
willing you should do that,--do it again." The man or woman,
whoever he or she may be, is quite certain to oblige you! There will
be any number of opportunities to be willing, until by and by the
willingness is a matter of course, and it would not be surprising if
the habit passed entirely unnoticed, as far as you are concerned.

This experiment tried successfully on small things can be carried to
greater. If steadily persisted in, a good fifty per cent of wasted
nervous force can be saved for better things; and this saving of
nervous force is the least gain which comes from a thorough riddance
of every form of intolerance.

"But," it will be objected, "how can I say I am willing when I am
not?"

Surely you can see no good from the irritation of unwillingness;
there can be no real gain from it, and there is every reason for
giving it up. A clear realization of the necessity for willingness,
both for our own comfort and for that of others, helps us to its
repetition in words. The words said with sincere purpose, help us to
the feeling, and so we come steadily into clearer light.

Our very willingness that a friend should go the wrong way, if he
chooses, gives us new power to help him towards the right. If we are
moved by intolerance, that is selfishness; with it will come the
desire to force our friend into the way which we consider right.
Such forcing, if even apparently successful, invariably produces a