With Him. He Who Cannot Walks a Lonely Way” I often went fishing up in Maine during the summer. PersonallyI am very fond of strawberries and cream， but I have found that forsome strange reason， fish prefer worms. So when I went fishing，I didn’t think about what I wanted. I thought about what theywanted. I didn’t bait the hook with strawberries and cream.
Rather， I dangled a worm or a grasshopper in front of the fish andsaid： “Wouldn’t you like to have that？”
Why not use the same common sense when fishing for people？
That is what Lloyd George， Great Britain’s Prime Ministerduring World War I， did. When someone asked him how hemanaged to stay in power after the other wartime leaders—Wilson， Orlando and Clemenceau—had been forgotten， he repliedthat if his staying on top might be attributed to any one thing， itwould be to his having learned that it was necessary to bait thehook to suit the fish.
Why talk about what we want？ That is childish. Absurd. Ofcourse， you are interested in what you want. You are eternallyinterested in it. But no one else is. The rest of us are just like you： we are interested in what we want.
So the only way on earth to influence other people is to talkabout what they want and show them how to get it.
Remember that tomorrow when you are trying to getsomebody to do something. If， for example， you don’t want yourchildren to smoke， don’t preach at them， and don’t talk about what you want； but show them that cigarettes may keep them frommaking the basketball team or winning the hundred-yard dash.
This is a good thing to remember regardless of whether youare dealing with children or calves or chimpanzees. For example：
one day Ralph Waldo Emerson and his son tried to get a calf intothe barn. But they made the common mistake of thinking only ofwhat they wanted： Emerson pushed and his son pulled. But thecalf was doing just what they were doing； he was thinking only ofwhat he wanted； so he stiffened his legs and stubbornly refusedto leave the pasture. The Irish housemaid saw their predicament.
She couldn’t write essays and books； but， on this occasion at least，she had more horse sense， or calf sense， than Emerson had. Shethought of what the calf wanted； so she put her maternal finger inthe calf’s mouth and let the calf suck her finger as she gently ledhim into the barn.
Every act you have ever performed since the day you wereborn was performed because you wanted something. How aboutthe time you gave a large contribution to the Red Cross？ Yes， thatis no exception to the rule. You gave the Red Cross the donationbecause you wanted to lend a helping hand； you wanted to do abeautiful， unselfish， divine act. “Inasmuch as ye have done it untoone of the least of these my brethren， ye have done it unto me.”
If you hadn’t wanted that feeling more than you wanted yourmoney， you would not have made the contribution. Of course，you might have made the contribution because you were ashamedto refuse or because a customer asked you to do it. But onething is certain. You made the contribution because you wantedsomething.
Harry A. Overstreet in his illuminating book Influencing HumanBehavior said： “Action springs out of what we fundamentallydesire... and the best piece of advice which can be given to would be persuaders， whether in business， in the home， in the school， inpolitics， is： First， arouse in the other person an eager want. Hewho can do this has the whole world with him. He who cannotwalks a lonely way.”
Andrew Carnegie， the poverty-stricken Scotch lad who startedto work at two cents an hour and finally gave away？ 365 million，learned early in life that the only way to influence people is to talkin terms of what the other person wants. He attended school onlyfour years； yet he learned how to handle people.
His sister-in-law was worried sick over her two boys. Theywere at Yale， and they were so busy with their own affairs thatthey neglected to write home and paid no attention whatever totheir mother’s frantic letters. Then Carnegie offered to wagera hundred dollars that he could get an answer by return mail，without even asking for it. Someone called his bet； so he wrote hisnephews a chatty letter， mentioning casually in a post- thathe was sending each one a five-dollar bill.
He neglected， however， to enclose the money.
Back came replies by return mail thanking “Dear UncleAndrew” for his kind note and—you can finish the sentenceyourself.
Another example of persuading comes from Stan Novak ofCleveland， Ohio， a participant in our course. Stan came homefrom work one evening to find his youngest son， Tim， kicking andscreaming on the living room floor. He was to start kindergartenthe next day and was protesting that he would not go. Stan’snormal reaction would have been to banish the child to his roomand tell him he’d just better make up his mind to go. He had nochoice. But tonight， recognizing that this would not really helpTim start kindergarten in the best frame of mind， Stan sat down
and thought， “If I were Tim， why would I be excited about goingto kindergarten？” He and his wife made a list of all the fun thingsTim would do such as finger painting， singing songs， making newfriends. Then they put them into action. “We all started fingerpaintingon the kitchen table—my wife， Lil， my other son Bob，and myself， all having fun. Soon Tim was peeping around thecorner. Next he was begging to participate. ‘Oh， no！ You have togo to kindergarten first to learn how to finger-paint.’ With all theenthusiasm I could muster I went through the list talking in termshe could understand—telling him all the fun he would have inkindergarten. The next morning， I thought I was the first one up. Iwent downstairs and found Tim sitting sound asleep in the livingroom chair. ‘What are you doing here？’ I asked. ‘ I’m waiting togo to kindergarten. I don’t want to be late.’ The enthusiasm of ourentire family had aroused in Tim an eager want that no amount ofdiscussion or threat could have possibly accomplished.”
