=Low Thresholds to Fatigue.= Mr. H. was habitually so overcome by fatigue that he could not make himself carry through the slightest piece of work, even when necessity demanded it.  On Sunday night, when there was no one else to milk the cow, he had had to stop in the middle of the process and go into the house to lie down.  To carry the milk was impossible, so low were his thresholds to the slightest message of fatigue.  It turned out that things were not going right in the reproductive life.  His threshold was low in this direction, and it carried down with it all other thresholds.  After a general revaluation of values, he found himself able to keep his thresholds at the normal level.

A fine, efficient missionary from the Orient had been so overcome with fatigue that he was forced to give up all work and return to this country.  He had been with me for a while and was again ready to go to work.  He came one day with a radiant face to bid me good-by.  “Why are you so joyous?” I asked.  “Because,” he answered, “before I came home I was so fatigued that it used me up completely just to see the native servants pack our luggage.  Now we are taking back twice as much, and I not only packed it all myself but made the boxes with my own hands.  No more fatigue for me!”

A charming young girl who in many ways was an inspiration to all her associates fell into the habit of over-feeling her fatigue.  “You know, Doctor,” she said, “that I give out too much of myself; everybody tells me so.”  That was just the trouble.  Everybody had told her so, and the suggestion had worked.  It did not take her long to learn that in scattering abroad she was enriching herself, and that her “giving out” was not exhausting to her but rather the truest kind of self-expression.  It is only when a “giving out” is accompanied by a “looking in” that it can ever deplete.  The “See how much I am giving,” and “How tired I shall be,” attitude could hardly fail to exhaust, but a real self-expression and the fulfilment of a real desire to give are never anything else than exhilarating.  There is something wrong with the minister who is used up after his Sunday sermons.  If his message and not himself is his real concern, he will have only a normal amount of fatigue, accompanied by a general sense of accomplishment and well-being, after he has fed his flock.  To be sure, I have never been a minister, but I have had a goodly number among my patients and I speak from a fairly close acquaintance with their problems.

=Stopping Our Ears.= Roosters seem to be a perpetual source of annoyance to the folk whose thresholds are not under proper control.  But as roosters seem to be necessary to an egg-eating nation, it seems simpler to change the threshold than to abolish the roosters.  There was one woman who complained especially about being disturbed by early-morning Chanticleers.  I explained that the crowing called for no action on her part, and that therefore she should not allow it to come into consciousness.  “Do you mean,” she said, “that I could keep from hearing them?” As it happened, she was sitting under the clock, which had just struck seven.  “Did you hear the clock strike?” I asked.  “No,” she said; “did it strike?”