he thinks of his rivals, of his perilous stock, of his debts and delinquent customers.  He has no “Constitution” to go by, nothing but his wits and energy to set against the world that day, and every day the struggle and the anxiety are the same.  What a number of details he has to carry in his head (consider, for instance, how many different kinds of cheese there are, and how different people hate and love the same kind), and how keen must be his appreciation of the popular taste.  The complexities and annoyances of his business are excessive, and he cannot afford to make many mistakes; if he does he will lose his business, and when a man fails in business (honestly), he loses his nerve, and his career is ended.  It is simply amazing, when you consider it, the amount of talent shown in what are called the ordinary businesses of life.

It has been often remarked with how little wisdom the world is governed.  That is the reason it is so easy to govern.  “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown” does not refer to the discomfort of wearing it, but to the danger of losing it, and of being put back upon one’s native resources, having to run a grocery or to keep school.  Nobody is in such a pitiable plight as a monarch or politician out of business.  It is very difficult for either to get a living.  A man who has once enjoyed the blessed feeling of awaking every morning with the thought that he has a certain salary despises the idea of having to drum up a business by his own talents.  It does not disturb the waking hour at all to think that a deputation is waiting in the next room about a post-office in Indiana or about the codfish in Newfoundland waters—­the man can take a second nap on any such affair; but if he knows that the living of himself and family that day depends upon his activity and intelligence, uneasy lies his head.  There is something so restful and easy about public business!  It is so simple!  Take the average Congressman.  The Secretary of the Treasury sends in an elaborate report—­a budget, in fact—­involving a complete and harmonious scheme of revenue and expenditure.  Must the Congressman read it?  No; it is not necessary to do that; he only cares for practical measures.  Or a financial bill is brought in.  Does he study that bill?  He hears it read, at least by title.  Does he take pains to inform himself by reading and conversation with experts upon its probable effect?  Or an international copyright law is proposed, a measure that will relieve the people of the United States from the world-wide reputation of sneaking meanness towards foreign authors.  Does he examine the subject, and try to understand it?  That is not necessary.  Or it is a question of tariff.  He is to vote “yes” or “no” on these proposals.  It is not necessary for him to master these subjects, but it is necessary for him to know how to vote.  And how does he find out that?  In the first place, by inquiring what effect the measure will have upon the chance of election of the man he thinks will be nominated for President, and in the second place, what effect his vote will have on his own reelection.  Thus the principles of legislation become very much simplified, and thus it happens that it is comparatively so much easier to govern than it is to run a grocery store.