"GET ON OR GET OUT."
" BE determined to succeed, and let no one—no con- sideration whatever—divert you from the road that leads to the goal." This is the gist of the new volume by Mr. Peter Keary in the "Success Library" (1s.) The name of the book is "Dolt Now." Its forerunner by the same author was called "Get On or Get Out," and the phrase is constantly and effectively quoted in the present volume. It is indeed Mr. Keary's gospel expressed in five words. The book is primarily addressed to young men, before whom the author would set a single object, and upon whom he would impress his own sordid optinlism. "Make a profit. Make a profit. Make a profit," he exhorts, printing it three times over in larger and larger type. "Come along and maffick ' towards success." Such an aim, which he constantly speaks of as an ideal, is, be is sure, well within the power of any determined man. "This may be a strict world, but it is a just and an easily placated one. It will find a place for the man who deserves it." How, then, is the world to be placated ? Mr. Keary tells his readers most succinctly. "Success depends upon character and assertiveness," he says ; but, like all preachers of new doctrine, he puts a shade of new meaning into old words. The word "character" in his mouth needs explanation, and he explains it. "Character," he says, "is the power of a man." In other words, it is energy. "Character in a man creates an impression. It is both an advertisement and a testimonial." Without this dynamic force the true business of life, which is money-making, cannot be accom- plished. "Saving money," we read, "is one of the most difficult arts to which a man can put his mind. Before a man can begin to save money be has to save himself." It is worth the effort, our author teaches, for what can a man do without money? He cannot "get even a Bible," for "money," he would have us to know, "isn't really money. Money is brains. Money is life. If you have no money or its equivalent, existence ceases." Knowing what Mr. Keary means by "character," we have no difficulty in finding out what he means by "salvation." He means all those kinds of self-control which make for self-interest. A good wife, too, he assures us, is a great help to success. "It is really wonderful the number of men there are who cannot keep up to concert pitch on their own." Let a man "save" his "character," marry a forceful wife, and, above all, give no occasion for ridicule. This last is a precaution about which Mr. Beery feels very strongly. As he impresses it upon his reader he bursts into a specially expressive Americanism. "Don't monkey with your character," he exhorts. "Ridicule is very often a sharp sword for your defeat." Then he gives "one or two recent case, well known to all. Because he created a fuss over losing a pair of trousers William O'Brien became politically dead. A fire-escape killed Parnell. Punching policemen, boxing their ears, and being carried about in their arms has made the suffragettes most of the enemies they have, and these things have helped to ruin their cause. All these people were clever in their ways, but they got monkeying with their character." The difficulty of avoiding ridicule, as we can well understand, is increased tenfold for those who are determined to be "assertive." He compares the man who is determined to succeed to a little tin trumpet. "You make as big a noise as you can, to show you are busy and alert and wide-awake." Neither "make- believe" nor " bounce " can be safely eschewed by the man who would harass and dishearten his opponents to some purpose.
All considerations of taste or other people's feelings must go down before the success-hunter. The following story illustrates admirably the necessary point of view both of the employer and the employe, who whole-heartedly desire to win in the race for gold :—" A few years ago a ship was wrecked at Blackpool, and, in the early hours of the morning, Mr. Beecham's agent bad covered the bull of the ship with the familiar legend, Take Beecham's Pills—worth
a guinea a box.' This led to some litigation, but the expense was gladly paid for the sake of the extra advertisement for I he pills given by the reports of the proceedings." A man, we are taught, should never stand still to consider his handicaps or to pity other people for theirs. Though he may begin
with no better chance than the mass, he can get on, and he may "get classified." "All men are born equal, but only babies stay that way." Mr. Keary points to himself as an example of his own creed :—
" Take this as an illustration. A short time ago I had to catch a train at seven o'clock in the morning. I was called at 5.30, had one waiter to bring my hot water, and another to bring my breakfast. Meanwhile, a poor old cabman was sitting out on the rank on a raw, rasping, bone-aching, and body-eating January morning, waiting for me and half-a-crown—waiting to drive me to the station. Does that look like all men being born equal, and if it does what's the good of it ? You must qualify equality. You cannot get down to the good of a man otherwiae. The cabman would have rather been in my position. But he may have never made any mental effort to get there. You can't expect me to remain a cabman because another man insists upon remaining a cabman. Some eggs are just eggs. Others are fresh eggs. It's the same with men. They have to get classified. This par- ticular cabman could not have been poorer the other day than I was many days ago. But I got away from being a plain egg. I got classified. If I was not inislaid I asserted something, at all events, of the good that was in me. Perhaps this cabman had never tried to do that, or he may have tried and failed, and given up in despair. I am not a genius. But I am not a cabman, and whatever foolish things I may do in the years to come, I don't think it's in me to become a cabman."
The metaphor is no doubt a poor one. Eggs do not become fresh, and "fresh" and "plain" are not the only classes into which eggs can be subdivided. But we see what Mr. Keary
means. He always explains himself.
Like every astute teacher, our author does not confine himself to direct didacticism. He praises famous men and quotes their sayings. Living and dead examples of "energy and brains and the ultimate success that comes of these things" are set before us in procession. We hear how Sir Thomas Lipton succeeded, and how the founder of a famous toyshop made a great fortune. Sir Thomas himself teaches us to "be civil," to "treat rich and poor alike," to "be punctual," and "to stick to business." Perhaps the most interesting of all the scraps of advice comes from the late Mr.
William Whiteley, the "universal provider" : "Add your conscience to your capital." But even if a man keep all Mr.
Keary's commandments, he cannot, as his instructor admits, expect to succeed all at once. Mr. Kea my inculcates per- severance out of the New Testament. He tells his readers to turn to the eighteenth chapter of St. Luke, for it contains "quite a useful lesson in persistent effort." The words refer
to persistent prayer, and we forbear to quote them in such a connexion. We will, however, quote the lesson drawn from them. "Keep knocking and hammering, plead and insist, watch and work and strive in all you do every day throughout this coming year, and you will win. You will get material success. When you get this success then read the Sermon on the Mount and learn what to do with this success and all that it means." This religious section should have been headed, "Seek Ye Last."
We think we have given a perfectly fair picture of a read- able book, which contains a clear and racy exposition of the undivided service of Mammon. It is calculated, unfortu- nately, to appeal to the energetic and self-controlled among the half-educated youth of the country. The industrious and ambitious will alone be moved by it. It is the best whom it will injure, and in rendering the salt savourless it must make for the corruption of the country. Are we taking too seriously the possible effects of a cheap book ? We think not. It is an expression of the worst spirit of the time, and there is enough between its paper covers to set any decent reader—to borrow one of Mr. Keary's happiest phrases—" thinking and worrying right from the roots."
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