The Bed-Book of Happiness Part 25

One leg across his wide arm-chair, Sat Singleton, and read Voltaire; And when (as well he might) he hit Upon a splendid piece of wit, He cried: "I do declare now, this Upon the whole is not amiss."

And spent a good half-hour to show By metaphysics why 'twas so.

"Why do I smile?" To hear you say, "One month, and then the shortest day!"

The shortest, whate'er month it be, Is the bright day you pa.s.s with me.

Each year bears something from us as it flies, We only blow it farther with our sighs.

WIT AND LAUGHTER [Sidenote: _Hazlitt_]

There is nothing more ridiculous than laughter without a cause, nor anything more troublesome than what are called laughing people. A professed laugher is as contemptible and tiresome a character as a professed wit: the one is always contriving something to laugh at, the other is always laughing at nothing. An excess of levity is as impertinent as an excess of gravity. A character of this sort is well personified by Spenser, in the "Damsel of the Idle Lake":

Who did a.s.say To laugh at shaking of the leaves light.

Any one must be mainly ignorant, or thoughtless, who is surprised at everything he sees; or wonderfully conceited, who expects everything to conform to his standard of propriety. Clowns and idiots laugh on all occasions; and the common failing of wishing to be thought satirical often runs through whole families in country places, to the great annoyance of their neighbours. To be struck with incongruity in whatever comes before us does not argue great comprehension or refinement of perception, but rather a looseness and flippancy of mind and temper, which prevents the individual from connecting any two ideas steadily or consistently together. It is owing to a natural crudity and precipitateness of the imagination, which a.s.similates nothing properly to itself. People who are always laughing, at length laugh on the wrong side of their faces; for they cannot get others to laugh with them. In like manner, an affectation of wit by degrees hardens the heart, and spoils good company and good manners. A perpetual succession of good things puts an end to common conversation. There is no answer to a jest, but another; and even where the ball can be kept up in this way without ceasing, it tires the patience of the bystanders, and runs the speakers out of breath. Wit is the salt of conversation, not the food.

LOVE IN WINTER [Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_]

Between the berried holly-bush The blackbird whistled to the thrush: "Which way did bright-eyed Bella go?

Look, Speckle-breast, across the snow,-- Are those her dainty tracks I see, That wind beside the shrubbery?"

The throstle pecked the berries still.

"No need for looking, Yellowbill; Young Frank was there an hour ago, Half frozen, waiting in the snow; His callow beard was white with rime,-- 'Tchuck,--'tis a merry pairing-time!"

"What would you?" twittered in the wren; "These are the reckless ways of men.

I watched them bill and coo as though They thought the sign of spring was snow; If men but timed their loves as we, 'Twould save this inconsistency."

"Nay, gossip," chirped the robin, "nay; I like their unreflective way.

Besides, I heard enough to show Their love is proof against the snow:-- 'Why wait,' he said, 'why wait for May, When love can warm a winter's day?'"

MENTAL PHOTOGRAPHS [Sidenote: _Mark Twain_]

I have received from the publishers, New York, a neatly-printed page of questions, with blanks for answers, and am requested to fill those blanks. These questions are so arranged as to ferret out the most secret points of a man's nature without his ever noticing what the idea is until it is all done, and his "character" gone for ever. A number of these sheets are bound together and called a Mental Photograph Alb.u.m.

Nothing could induce me to fill those blanks but the a.s.severation of my pastor, that it will benefit my race by enabling young people to see what I am, and giving them an opportunity to become like somebody else.

This overcomes my scruples. I have but little character, but what I have I am willing to part with for the public good. I do not boast of this character, further than that I built it up by myself, at odd hours, during the last thirty years, and without other educational aid than I was able to pick up in the ordinary schools and colleges. I have filled the blanks as follows:

What is your favourite...

Colour?--Anything but dun.

Tree?--Any that bears forbidden fruit.

Hour in the Day?--The leisure hour.

Perfume?--Cent, per cent.

Style of Beauty?--The Subscriber's.

Names, Male and Female?--_M'aimez_ (Maimie) for a female, and Tacus and Marius for males.

Painters?--Sign-painters.

Poet?--Robert Browning, when he has a lucid interval.

Poetess?--Timothy t.i.tcomb.

Prose Author?--Noah Webster, LL.D.

Characters in Romance?--The Napoleon Family.

In History?--King Herod.

Book to take up for an hour?--Rothschild's pocket-book.

If not yourself, who would you rather be?--The Wandering Jew, with a nice annuity.

What is your idea of happiness?--Finding the b.u.t.tons all on.

Your idea of Misery?--Breaking an egg in your pocket.

What is your _bete noire_?--(What is my which?)

What do you most dread?--Exposure.

What do you believe to be your Distinguishing Characteristic?--Hunger.

What is the Sublimest Pa.s.sion of which human nature is capable?--Loving your sweetheart's enemies.

What are the Sweetest Words in the world?--"Not Guilty."

What is your Aim in Life?--To endeavour to be absent when my time comes.

What is your Motto?--Be virtuous, and you will be eccentric.

ANGLING CHEER [Sidenote: _Izaak Walton_]

Let me tell you, Scholar, that Diogenes walked on a day, with his friend, to see a country fair; where he saw ribbons, and looking-gla.s.ses, and nut-crackers, and fiddles, and hobby-horses, and many other gimcracks; and, having observed them, and all the other finnimbruns that make a complete country-fair, he said to his friend, "Lord, how many things are there in this world of which Diogenes hath no need!" And truly it is so, or might be so, with very many who vex and toil themselves to get what they have no need of. Can any man charge G.o.d, that he hath not given him enough to make his life happy? No, doubtless; for nature is content with a little. And yet you shall hardly meet with a man that complains not of some want; though he, indeed, wants nothing but his will; it may be, nothing but his will of his poor neighbour, for not worshipping, or not flattering him: and thus, when we might be happy and quiet, we create trouble to ourselves. I have heard of a man that was angry with himself because he was no taller; and of a woman that broke her looking-gla.s.s because it would not show her face to be as young and handsome as her next neighbour's was. And I knew another to whom G.o.d had given health and plenty; but a wife that nature had made peevish, and her husband's riches had made purse-proud; and must, because she was rich, and for no other virtue, sit in the highest pew in the church; which being denied her, she engaged her husband into a contention for it, and at last into a lawsuit with a dogged neighbour who was as rich as he, and had a wife as peevish and purse-proud as the other: and this lawsuit begot higher oppositions, and actionable words, and more vexations and lawsuits; for you must remember that both were rich, and must therefore have their wills. Well! this wilful, purse-proud lawsuit lasted during the life of the first husband; after which his wife vext and chid, and chid and vext, till she also chid and vext herself into her grave: and so the wealth of these poor rich people was curst into a punishment, because they wanted meek and thankful hearts; for those only can make us happy. I knew a man that had health and riches; and several houses, all beautiful, and ready furnished; and would often trouble himself and family to be removing from one house to another: and being asked by a friend why he removed so often from one house to another, replied, "It was to find content in some one of them."

But his friend, knowing his temper, told him, "If he would find content in any of his houses, he must leave himself behind him; for content will never dwell but in a meek and quiet soul." And this may appear, if we read and consider what our Saviour says in St. Matthew's Gospel; for He there says: "Blessed be the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed be the pure in heart, for they shall see G.o.d. Blessed be the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." And, "Blessed be the meek, for they shall possess the earth." Not that the meek shall not also obtain mercy, and see G.o.d, and be comforted, and at last come to the kingdom of heaven: but in the meantime, he, and he only, possesses the earth, as he goes towards that kingdom of heaven, by being humble and cheerful, and content with what his good G.o.d has allotted him. He has no turbulent, repining, vexatious thoughts that he deserves better; nor is vext when he sees others possest of more honour or more riches than his wise G.o.d has allotted for his share; but he possesses what he has with a meek and contented quietness, such a quietness as makes his very dreams pleasing, both to G.o.d and himself.