The Pen and the Hand.
Fountain pens, in former days, were not so great favorites with me as they are now. I had bad luck with my pens. Some were too coarse, and some were too fine. Some worked too hard, and some were too pliant. Some were scratchy, and disagreeable in many ways. It was a cross to live with them. I grew careless about each one of them in turn, and stepped on it, or lost it, or-loaned it, which sometimes amounted to the same thing. And when it was gone I didn't care. At last I fell back contentedly upon lead pencils and the typewriter.
But one day I chanced to be talking with an agent for the Ritewell pen. This agent noticed (of course he noticed) that I didn't use a fountain pen, and he asked me why. I told him the story of my inky woes, and he asked me how I had been in the habit of choosing my pens. By going into a store, I told him, and trying them one after the other, until I got hold of one that seemed to be what I wanted. And then, when I reached home, my opinion would suffer a reversal.
Well, that agent understood his business, and how to make a Rite-well friend. The next day I saw before me on the desk six or eight nice new fountain pens, all filled and ready to work. They were of all sorts. Some were full stubs and some were half stubs and some were not stubs at all. Some were stiff and some were flexible and some were half-way between. The pens, moreover, were set at different angles. I had not realized before what a difference there is in fountain pens. And I was to use those pens until I had found one to my liking, and was sure of it, if it took a year.
That was ten years ago, and the pen I thus selected, with care and thorough trial, has been my constant companion, next my heart and in my hand, through all the decade since.
So much for fitting a pen to the hand. And now just a bit of application to the far more important matter of fit-tine an occupation to a life.
Not a few of the young men I have known have chosen their occupations much as I used to choose my fountain pens, and with much the same result. The recommendation of their friends, or a moment's fancy had settled the whole affair. "Well, I'll take this one. How much is it?" And off they go with their decision in their pocket.
Then, the scratching! And then, the rasping awkwardness and discomfort! And then, the carelessness, and the willingness to drop the whole thing, and the secret satisfaction if the job is lost, and there is a chance to try something else. I have seen the little tragedy acted out many times. So have you.
There is only one way to choose an occupation, and that is exactly the way I chose my fountain pen—the last one!