One of the principal depressing emotions we have to curb to preserve our poise are anger. And under anger we must include the moderate degree of anger known as fret. What makes us fret? We all know the expression "Mad as a wet hen". Suppose you were asked what makes the hen mad, you probably would answer, "Why, because she is wet"; but for the real reason we must go further back - she is mad because she insists on being dry. If she could forego that insistence she would remain unruffled, wet as well as dry.
Similarly, I think I am mad because so-and-so has called me a liar, a coward, or a what-not. But the underlying cause of my anger is that I can't stand being called such names. If I took a notion to practice philosophy to the extent of seeing how much instead of how little I could stand, I might finally be wishing some one would try it on, to see if I couldn't remain cool under the provocation, and simply say to myself, "Never touched me." "Any one can stand what he likes; it takes the philosopher to stand what he doesn't like."
There is no sharp line of division between the legitimate airing of a grievance and going into a state of fret. Nor is it fretting quietly to go about the adjustment of the grievance. Fret means internal turmoil externalized, not by effective work, but by wailing and gnashing of teeth.
You can spot a fretter from the tone and pitch of his voice. This test is not infallible but as a rule you can spot a fretter by his voice. When someone frets, his vocal cords tighten and produces a high-pitched, disagreeable tone which merges into the whine of chronic discontent.
I heard such a high-pitched voice inquiring the waiter one morning at breakfast, "How many eggs are there in this bacon and eggs?" "I don't know, sir, I think two... that is the usual number." "Well, I wish you would go and see"; and the waiter did so, returning shortly to announce with beaming face, "There are three, sir; they generally put in two, but this time they put in three." But even this cheerful news produced no change in the expression or the voice of the fretter, who despondently observed, "I knew the proportions were wrong." If you ever find yourself getting into this state of mind try the experiment of saying to yourself, " Don't pitch your voice so high!"
I once knew a man who was so obsessed with dust. If you inquired about his health, he would answer, " Pretty bad, thank you, and the dust is something awful!" If you admired a picture, he would say, "The composition may be good, but the frame is the kind that catches the dust." If you mentioned the Arctic regions, he would wish himself there to be out of the dust. When we finally had a fall of snow that covered the dust, I expected to find him beaming, but no - with the same tried expression and the same high-pitched voice he said the dust would be as bad as ever in a little while.
It is surprising how many things we can't stand if we cultivate our "can't-standability." The degree of anger known as getting mad may be dismissed with an appeal to our vanity, thus: Consider the very angry woman. How unbecoming it is - how it lacks in dignity! Why, she is almost black in the face because her emotion interferes with her circulation, and causes a stasis of venous blood in the superficial vessels of her countenance! If she could look in the glass now, and if she knew enough physiology to realize that controlling the emotions also controls the circulation, she would wish never to be angry again.
It is worth while for us to profit by this observation; and if it chances that we are the object of her wrath, we shall do well to curb the natural reflex which will make our face as black as hers, and we shall maintain the role of spectator, disinterested and unaffected.
When real improvement has taken place in these directions there is not only a change in the manner of thinking, but a noticeable change of personality, which includes control of the body likewise. Indeed, to control the body or mind alone is to manage only one horse of a team.







