No baseball team allows its pitcher or its catcher to be a man who trusts to luck. Instead, these men must be such as have developed the needed brain paths until they are able either to pitch a good "down curve" or to catch a ball “on the fly."

As in ball playing, so in every other direction it is the men and women with countless well-trained servants in the shape of dendrites that are the leaders of the world to-day. The best writer, the best orator, the best scientist, lawyer, preacher, and musician, each one of these owes his high station to the splendid sets of dendrites that put multitudes of neurons in connection with each other and increase the power of each.

No doubt some people start life with more neurons than their neighbors have ever dreamed of having, for the quality of the brain we are born with is due to our ancestors. Through them we may begin life with the brain of a poet, of an inventor, of a musician. We may be gifted in one way or another before we leave the cradle, or are old enough to do any thinking; and for this we deserve neither praise nor blame.

Clearly enough, however, there is no way to count nerve cells, no way to tell whether the brain of one baby is better than that of another except by what the baby proves himself to be when he is old enough to show what his own particular brain can do. We have no choice but to judge a brain by what it actually does.

For this reason, any child who begins life with fewer neurons and a less gifted brain may, after all, win in the race against the other child who had more neurons to start with, but who took no pains to develop brain paths.

There is, in fact, no way to count brain cells - no way to compare one brain with another except by what the person proves himself to be. I myself should prefer to own fewer neurons joined to each other by multitudes of dendrites, than to own more neurons, if they had to be of the sort that lacks energy enough to make connections with other neurons.

Many a child gives up a hard undertaking simply because he does not know about this law of neuron connections. A young friend of mine was threatened with blindness. Everything had to be done to save her eyesight. Her parents even went so far as to send to the blind asylum in Columbus, Ohio, for pages of raised letters. They thought that, as she was a great reader, she might learn to save her eyes through the tips of her fingers.

She began with enthusiasm and kept at it for two days, when she gave up in despair. "My fingers are too stupid," she said; "they can never learn all that." Unfortunately, those who were with her did not know about neurons, or they would have explained that there is no such thing as making brain paths in a trice—that time and patience are necessary. If she had known this at the

time, she might have kept on pluckily for a season and have ended with a new set of servants at her command.

In a way, it is these different neuron connections which we ourselves have made that tell tales about us on every side. Keep your eyes open and learn to decide what sets of connections have been made by the different people whom you meet. As a rule you will be able to tell whether these connections were started in childhood or in later life; for the things which each man does most easily are apt to be those which travel over paths that were developed in childhood. One of the most important questions about every school child is, How much is he willing to do for the sake of connecting his neurons? Let us all bear the following law in mind: The connections which we consent to make, or which we choose to make, as children, will rule us with an iron hand, for good or ill, when we are old.

In view of this law it is evident that what we wish to be when we are old we must begin to be while we are young.

CHAPTER XXIV

IN ORDER TO REMEMBER

Two scientists proposed to study the memory of a crab, for they wished to know whether or not such animals have intelligence enough to make use of their own experiences. For the sake of the test, these men constructed a confusing path through which the hard

shelled, small-eyed

creature must go to

find his food.

The crab was

B started into this maze

from the point marked

THE ROAD THE CRAB TOOK BEFORE HE LEARNED A. His food lay in THE SHORTEST WAY THROUGH the opening B, and the students waited to see whether he would prove himself to be a wise traveler or a foolish one; that is, whether or not he was intelligent enough to remember previous mistakes and profit by them.

Four times each day, and every day for two weeks, this crab was started on his journey. At the first trial he went in and out of the obstructions as the line

indicates, and spent five minutes between entrance and exit; but he shortened his journey little by little each day, until he had made twenty-five trips. He had now learned to take the short

est possible cut across, and within a month he could escape in ten seconds.

Another crab was tested by means of a hole in a screen. He was placed on one side, with his food on the other, and he had to get to it by climbing

READY TO START AGAIN

up to the hole on his side, then through the hole and down the other side to his food. I give a nine days' record of the time he spent in making the trip.

Chickens also teach us lessons in remembering experiences and acting on them. Professor Lloyd Morgan gives the following case: