A PHILOSOPHER

"The web of our life is of mingled yarn, good and ill together," says Shakespeare. It behooves us therefore to find the good and to make the best of the ill. Two men were falling from an aeroplane. "I'll bet you five dollars," said one, "that I hit the ground first."

To take things as they be—
Thet's my philosophy.
No use to holler, mope, or cuss—
If they was changed they might be wuss.


If rain is pourin' down,
An' lightnin' buzzin' roun',
I ain't a-fearin' we'll be hit,
But grin thet I ain't out in it.


If I got deep in debt—
It hasn't happened yet—
And owed a man two dollars, Gee!
Why I'd be glad it wasn't three.


If some one come along,
And tried to do me wrong,
Why I should sort of take a whim
To thank the Lord I wasn't him.


I never seen a night
So dark there wasn't light
Somewheres about if I took care
To strike a match and find out where.


John Kendrick Bangs.

CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE

"I'd rather be right than President," said Henry Clay. It is to men who are animated by this spirit that the greatest satisfaction in life comes. For true blessedness does not lie far off and above us. It is close at hand. Booker T. Washington once told a story of a ship that had exhausted its supply of fresh water and signaled its need to a passing vessel. The reply was, "Send down your buckets where you are." Thinking there was some misunderstanding, the captain repeated his signal, only to be answered as before. This time he did as he was bidden and secured an abundance of fresh water. His ship was opposite the mouth of a mighty river which still kept its current unmingled with the waters of the ocean.

How happy is he born and taught
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought
And simple truth his utmost skill!


Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Not tied unto the world with care
Of public fame or private breath;


Who envies none that chance doth raise
Or vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise
Nor rules of state, but rules of good;


Who hath his life from rumors freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make accusers great;


Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a well-chosen book or friend;


—This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.


Sir Henry Wotton.

SADNESS AND MERRIMENT

(ADAPTED FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE")
In this passage Antonio states that he is overcome by a sadness he cannot account for. Salarino tells him that the mental attitude is everything; that mirth is as easy as gloom; that nature in her freakishness makes some men laugh at trifles until their eyes become mere slits, yet leaves others dour and unsmiling before jests that would convulse even the venerable Nestor. Gratiano maintains that Antonio is too absorbed in worldly affairs, and that he must not let his spirits grow sluggish or irritable.

ANT. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn.


Salar. Then let's say you are sad
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper,
And other of such vinegar aspect
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.


Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it that do buy it with much care:
Believe me, you are marvelously changed.


Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano
A stage where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.


Gra. Let me play the fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
And let my liver rather heat with wine
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man whose blood is warm within
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into a jaundice
By being peevish? Fare ye well awhile:
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.


William Shakespeare.

THE GIFTS OF GOD

Why are we never entirely satisfied? Why are we never at absolute peace or rest? Many are the answers that have been made to this question. The answer here given by the poet is that so richly is man endowed with qualities and attributes that if contentment were added to them, he would be satisfied with what he has, and would not strive for that which is higher still—the fulfilment of his spiritual cravings.

When God at first made Man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by;
Let us (said He) pour on him all we can:
Let the world's riches, which disperséd lie,
Contract into a span.


So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honor, pleasure
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.


For if I should (said He)
Bestow this jewel also on My creature,
He would adore My gifts instead of Me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature.
So both should losers be.


Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness:
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.


George Herbert.

APPRECIATION

Life's a bully good game with its kicks and cuffs—
Some smile, some laugh, some bluff;
Some carry a load too heavy to bear
While some push on with never a care,
But the load will seldom heavy be
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


He who lives by the side of the road
And helps to bear his brother's load
May seem to travel lone and long
While the world goes by with a merry song,
But the heart grows warm and sorrows flee
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


When I appreciate you and you appreciate me,
The road seems short to victory;
It buoys one up and calls "Come on,"
And days grow brighter with the dawn;
There is no doubt or mystery
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


It's the greatest thought in heaven or earth—
It helps us know our fellow's worth;
There'd be no wars or bitterness,
No fear, no hate, no grasping; yes,
It makes work play, and the careworn free
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


William Judson Kibby,

KEEP SWEET

Even the direst catastrophes may be softened by our attitude to them. Charles II said to those who had gathered about his deathbed: "You'll pardon any little lapses, gentlemen. I've never done this thing before."

Don't be foolish and get sour when things don't just come your way—
Don't you be a pampered baby and declare, "Now I won't play!"
Just go grinning on and bear it;
Have you heartache? Millions share it,
If you earn a crown, you'll wear it—
Keep sweet.


Don't go handing out your troubles to your busy fellow-men—
If you whine around they'll try to keep from meeting you again;
Don't declare the world's "agin" you,
Don't let pessimism win you,
Prove there's lots of good stuff in you—
Keep sweet.


If your dearest hopes seem blighted and despair looms into view,
Set your jaw and whisper grimly, "Though they're false, yet I'll be true."
Never let your heart grow bitter;
With your lips to Hope's transmitter,
Hear Love's songbirds bravely twitter,
"Keep sweet."


Bless your heart, this world's a good one, and will always help a man;
Hate, misanthropy, and malice have no place in Nature's plan.
Help your brother there who's sighing.
Keep his flag of courage flying;
Help him try—'twill keep you trying—
Keep sweet.


Strickland W. Gillilan.

A HYMN TO HAPPINESS

A man who owed Artemus Ward two hundred dollars fell into such hard circumstances that Artemus offered to knock off half the debt. "I won't let you outdo me in generosity," said the man; "I'll knock off the other half." Similarly, when we resolve to live down our causes of gloom, fate comes to our aid and removes most of them altogether.

Let us smile along together,
Be the weather
What it may.
Through the waste and wealth of hours,
Plucking flowers
By the way.
Fragrance from the meadows blowing,
Naught of heat or hatred knowing,
Kindness seeking, kindness sowing,
Not to-morrow, but to-day.


Let us sing along, beguiling
Grief to smiling
In the song.
With the promises of heaven
Let us leaven
The day long,
Gilding all the duller seemings
With the roselight of our dreamings,
Splashing clouds with sunlight's gleamings,
Here and there and all along.


Let us live along, the sorrow
Of to-morrow
Never heed.
In the pages of the present
What is pleasant
Only read.
Bells but pealing, never knelling,
Hearts with gladness ever swelling.
Tides of charity up welling
In our every dream and deed.


Let us hope along together,
Be the weather
What it may,
Where the sunlight glad is shining,
Not repining
By the way.
Seek to add our meed and measure
To the old Earth's joy and treasure,
Quaff the crystal cup of pleasure,
Not to-morrow, but to-day.


James W. Foley.

Opportunity

Procrastination is not only the thief of time; it is also the grave of opportunity.

In an old city by the storied shores
Where the bright summit of Olympus soars,
A cryptic statue mounted towards the light—
Heel-winged, tip-toed, and poised for instant flight.


"O statue, tell your name," a traveler cried,
And solemnly the marble lips replied:
"Men call me Opportunity: I lift
My winged feet from earth to show how swift
My flight, how short my stay—
How Fate is ever waiting on the way."


"But why that tossing ringlet on your brow?"
"That men may seize me any moment: Now,
NOW is my other name: to-day my date:
O traveler, to-morrow is too late!"


Edwin Markham.

MORALITY

We can't always, even when accomplishing, have the ardor of accomplishment; we can only hold to the purpose formed in more inspired hours. After a work is finished, even though it be a good work which our final judgment will approve, we are likely to be oppressed for a time by the anxieties we have passed through; the comfort of effort has left us, and we recall our dreams, our intentions, beside which our actual achievement seems small. In such moments we should remember that just after the delivery of the Gettysburg Address Lincoln believed it an utter failure. Yet the address was a masterpiece of commemorative oratory.

We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart resides;
The spirit bloweth and is still,
In mystery our soul abides.
But tasks in hours of insight will'd
Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd


With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day and wish 'twere done.
Not till the hours of light return,
All we have built do we discern.


Matthew Arnold

TO A YOUNG MAN

"Jones write a book! Impossible! I knew his father." This attitude towards distinction of any sort, whether in authorship or in the field of action, is characteristic of many of us. We think transcendent ability is entirely above and apart from the things of ordinary life. Yet genius itself has been defined as common sense in an uncommon degree. The great men are human. Shakespeare remembered this when he said, "I think the king is but a man as I am." We should take heart at the thought that since the great are like us, we may develop ourselves until we are like them.

The great were once as you.
They whom men magnify to-day
Once groped and blundered on life's way,
Were fearful of themselves, and thought
By magic was men's greatness wrought.
They feared to try what they could do;
Yet Fame hath crowned with her success
The selfsame gifts that you possess.


The great were young as you,
Dreaming the very dreams you hold,
Longing yet fearing to be bold,
Doubting that they themselves possessed
The strength and skill for every test,
Uncertain of the truths they knew,
Not sure that they could stand to fate
With all the courage of the great.


Then came a day when they
Their first bold venture made,
Scorning to cry for aid.
They dared to stand to fight alone,
Took up the gauntlet life had thrown,
Charged full-front to the fray,
Mastered their fear of self, and then
Learned that our great men are but men.


Oh, Youth, go forth and do!
You, too, to fame may rise;
You can be strong and wise.
Stand up to life and play the man—
You can if you'll but think you can;
The great were once as you.
You envy them their proud success?
'Twas won with gifts that you possess.


Edgar A. Guest.

SLOGAN

Some men want ideal conditions with pay in advance before they will work. But the world does not want such men, and has little place for them.

Don't prate about what is your right,
But bare your fists and show your might;
Life is another man to fight
Catch as catch can.


Don't talk of Life as scurvy Fate,
Who gave you favors just too late,
Or Luck who threw you smiles for bait
Before he ran.


Don't whine and wish that you were dead,
But wrestle for your daily bread,
And afterward let it be said
"He was a man."


Jane M'Lean.

SMILES

Smiles bring out the latent energies within us, as water reveals the bright colors in the stone it flows over.

Smile a little, smile a little,
As you go along,
Not alone when life is pleasant,
But when things go wrong.
Care delights to see you frowning,
Loves to hear you sigh;
Turn a smiling face upon her,
Quick the dame will fly.


Smile a little, smile a little,
All along the road;
Every life must have its burden,
Every heart its load.
Why sit down in gloom and darkness,
With your grief to sup?
As you drink Fate's bitter tonic
Smile across the cup.


Smile upon the troubled pilgrims
Whom you pass and meet;
Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms
Oft for weary feet.
Do not make the way seem harder
By a sullen face,
Smile a little, smile a little,
Brighten up the place.


Smile upon your undone labor;
Not for one who grieves
O'er his task, waits wealth or glory;
He who smiles achieves.
Though you meet with loss and sorrow
In the passing years,
Smile a little, smile a little,
Even through your tears.


Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL

"A watched pot never boils." Though the pot be the pot of happiness, the proverb still holds true.

Sit down, sad soul, and count
The moments flying:
Come,—tell the sweet amount
That's lost by sighing!
How many smiles—a score?
Then laugh, and count no more;
For day is dying.


Lie down, sad soul, and sleep,
And no more measure
The flight of Time, nor weep
The loss of leisure;
But here, by this lone stream,
Lie down with us and dream
Of starry treasure.


We dream: do thou the same:
We love—forever;
We laugh; yet few we shame,
The gentle, never.
Stay, then, till Sorrow dies;
Then—hope and happy skies
Are thine forever!


Bryan Waller Procter.

KEEP On Going On

Some men fail and quit. Some succeed and quit. The wise refuse to quit, whether they fail or succeed.

Ef you strike a thorn or rose,
Keep a-goin'!
Ef it hails, or ef it snows,
Keep a-goin!
'Taint no use to sit an' whine,
When the fish ain't on yer line;
Bait yer hook an' keep a-tryin'—
Keep a-goin'!


When the weather kills yer crop,
Keep a-goin'!
When you tumble from the top,
Keep a-goin'!
S'pose you're out of every dime,
Bein' so ain't any crime;
Tell the world you're feelin' prime—
Keep a-goin'!


When it looks like all is up,
Keep a-goin'!
Drain the sweetness from the cup,
Keep a-goin'!
See the wild birds on the wing,
Hear the bells that sweetly ring,
When you feel like sighin' sing—
Keep a-goin'!


Frank L. Stanton.

THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION

A person may feel deeply without shouting his emotion to the skies, or be strong without seizing occasions to exhibit his strength. In truth we distrust the power which makes too much a display of itself. Let it exert itself only to the point of securing the ends that are really necessary. Restraint, self-control are in truth more mighty than might unshackled, just as a self-possessed opponent is more dangerous than a frenzied one. Moreover, there is a moral side to the question. A good quality, if abused or allowed free sway, becomes a force for evil and does its owner more harm than if he had not possessed it in the first place.

They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,—


They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.


The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die;
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:


For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.


William Shakespeare.

A HYMN TO HAPPINESS

A man who owed Artemus Ward two hundred dollars fell into such hard circumstances that Artemus offered to knock off half the debt. "I won't let you outdo me in generosity," said the man; "I'll knock off the other half." Similarly, when we resolve to live down our causes of gloom, fate comes to our aid and removes most of them altogether.

Let us smile along together,
Be the weather
What it may.
Through the waste and wealth of hours,
Plucking flowers
By the way.
Fragrance from the meadows blowing,
Naught of heat or hatred knowing,
Kindness seeking, kindness sowing,
Not to-morrow, but to-day.


Let us sing along, beguiling
Grief to smiling
In the song.
With the promises of heaven
Let us leaven
The day long,
Gilding all the duller seemings
With the roselight of our dreamings,
Splashing clouds with sunlight's gleamings,
Here and there and all along.


Let us live along, the sorrow
Of to-morrow
Never heed.
In the pages of the present
What is pleasant
Only read.
Bells but pealing, never knelling,
Hearts with gladness ever swelling.
Tides of charity up welling
In our every dream and deed.


Let us hope along together,
Be the weather
What it may,
Where the sunlight glad is shining,
Not repining
By the way.
Seek to add our meed and measure
To the old Earth's joy and treasure,
Quaff the crystal cup of pleasure,
Not to-morrow, but to-day.


James W. Foley.

APPRECIATION

Life's a bully good game with its kicks and cuffs—
Some smile, some laugh, some bluff;
Some carry a load too heavy to bear
While some push on with never a care,
But the load will seldom heavy be
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


He who lives by the side of the road
And helps to bear his brother's load
May seem to travel lone and long
While the world goes by with a merry song,
But the heart grows warm and sorrows flee
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


When I appreciate you and you appreciate me,
The road seems short to victory;
It buoys one up and calls "Come on,"
And days grow brighter with the dawn;
There is no doubt or mystery
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


It's the greatest thought in heaven or earth—
It helps us know our fellow's worth;
There'd be no wars or bitterness,
No fear, no hate, no grasping; yes,
It makes work play, and the careworn free
When I appreciate you and you appreciate me.


William Judson Kibby,

IF

If I were fire I'd burn the world away.
If I were wind I'd turn my storms thereon,
If I were water I'd soon let it drown.


Cecco Angolieri.

If I were fire I'd seek the frozen North
And warm it till it blossomed fairly forth
And in the sweetness of its smiling mien
Resembled some soft southern garden scene.
And when the winter came again I'd seek
The chilling homes of lowly ones and meek
And do my small but most efficient part
To bring a wealth of comfort to the heart.


If I were wind I'd turn my breath upon
The calm-bound mariner until, anon,
The eager craft on which he sailed should find
The harbor blest towards which it hath inclined.
And in the city streets, when summer's days
Were withering the souls with scorching rays,
I'd seek the fevered brow and aching eyes
And take to them a touch of Paradise.


If I were water it would be my whim
To seek out all earth's desert places grim,
And turn each arid acre to a fair
Lush home of flowers and oasis rare.
Resolved in dew, I'd nestle in the rose.
As summer rain I'd ease the harvest woes,
And where a tear to pain would be relief,
A tear I'd be to kill the sting of grief.


If I were gold, I'd seek the poor man's purse.
I'd try to win my way into the verse
Of some grand singer of Man's Brotherhood,
And prove myself so pure, so fraught with good.
That all the world would bless me for the cup
Of happiness I'd brought for all to sup.
And when at last my work of joy was o'er
I'd be content to die, and be no more!


John Kendrick Bangs.

RULES FOR THE ROAD

Ardor of sinew and spirit—what else do we need to make our journey prosperous and happy?

Stand straight:
Step firmly, throw your weight:
The heaven is high above your head,
The good gray road is faithful to your tread.


Be strong:
Sing to your heart a battle song:
Though hidden foemen lie in wait,
Something is in you that can smile at Fate.


Press through:
Nothing can harm if you are true.
And when the night comes, rest:
The earth is friendly as a mother's breast.


Edwin Markham.

From "The Gates of Paradise, and Other Poems."

IS IT RAINING, LITTLE FLOWER?

"Sweet are the uses of adversity." They bring us benefits not otherwise to be had. To mope because of them is foolish. Showers alternate with sunshine, sorrows with pleasure, pain and weariness with comfort and rest; but accept the one as necessary to the other, and you will enjoy both.

Is it raining, little flower?
Be glad of rain.
Too much sun would wither thee,
'Twill shine again.
The sky is very black, 'tis true,
But just behind it shines
The blue.


Art thou weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain;
In sorrow the sweetest things will grow
As flowers in the rain.
God watches and thou wilt have sun
When clouds their perfect work
Have done.


Anonymous.

A PRETTY GOOD WORLD

The world has its faults, but few of us would give it up till we have to.

Pretty good world if you take it all round—
Pretty good world, good people!
Better be on than under the ground—
Pretty good world, good people!
Better be here where the skies are as blue
As the eyes of your sweetheart a-smilin' at you—
Better than lyin' 'neath daisies and dew—
Pretty good world, good people!


Pretty good world with its hopes and its fears—
Pretty good world, good people!
Sun twinkles bright through the rain of its tears—
Pretty good world, good people!
Better be here, in the pathway you know—
Where the thorn's in the garden where sweet roses grow,
Than to rest where you feel not the fall o' the snow—
Pretty good world, good people!


Pretty good world! Let us sing it that way—
Pretty good world, good people!
Make up your mind that you're in it to stay—
At least for a season, good people!
Pretty good world, with its dark and its bright—
Pretty good world, with its love and its light;
Sing it that way till you whisper, "Good-night!"—
Pretty good world, good people!


Frank L. Stanton.

THE RICHER MINES

No man is so poor but that he is a stockholder. Yet many a man has no real riches; his stocks draw dividends in dollars and cents only.

When it comes to buying shares
In the mines of earth,
May I join the millionaires
Who are rich in mirth.


Let me have a heavy stake
In fresh mountain air—
I will promise now to take
All that you can spare.


When you're setting up your claim
In the Mines of Glee,
Don't forget to use my name—
You can count on me.


Nothing better can be won,
Freer from alloy,
Than a bouncing claim in "Con-
Solidated Joy."


You can have your Copper Stocks
Gold and tin and coal—
What I'd have within my box
Has to do with Soul.


John Kendrick Bangs.

MY WAGE

We may as well aim high as low, ask much as little. The world will not miss what it gives us, and our reward will largely be governed by our demands.

I bargained with Life for a penny,
And Life would pay no more,
However I begged at evening
When I counted my scanty store;


For Life is a just employer,
He gives you what you ask,
But once you have set the wages,
Why, you must bear the task.


I worked for a menial's hire,
Only to learn, dismayed,
That any wage I had asked of Life,
Life would have paid.


Jessie B. Rittenhouse.

TWO RAINDROPS

TWO RAINDROPS
(A FABLE)
An egotist is not only selfish; he is usually ridiculous as well, for he sets us to wondering as to any possible ground for his exalted opinion of himself. The real workers do not emphasize their superiority to other people, do not even emphasize the differences, but are grateful that they may share in humanity's privilege of rendering service.

Two little raindrops were born in a shower,
And one was so pompously proud of his power,
He got in his head an extravagant notion
He'd hustle right off and swallow the ocean.
A blade of grass that grew by the brook
Called for a drink, but no notice he took
Of such trifling things. He must hurry to be
Not a mere raindrop, but the whole sea.
A stranded ship needed water to float,
But he could not bother to help a boat.
He leaped in the sea with a puff and a blare—
And nobody even knew he was there!


But the other drop as along it went
Found the work to do for which it was sent:
It refreshed the lily that drooped its head,
And bathed the grass that was almost dead.
It got under the ships and helped them along,
And all the while sang a cheerful song.
It worked every step of the way it went,
Bringing joy to others, to itself content.
At last it came to its journey's end,
And welcomed the sea as an old-time friend.
"An ocean," it said, "there could not be
Except for the millions of drops like me."


Joseph Morris,

MY CREED

MY CREED
We all have a philosophy of life, whether or not we formulate it. Does it end in self, or does it include our relations and our duties to our fellows? General William Booth of the Salvation Army was once asked to send a Christmas greeting to his forces throughout the world. His life had been spent in unselfish service; over the cable he sent but one word—OTHERS.

This is my creed: To do some good,
To bear my ills without complaining,
To press on as a brave man should
For honors that are worth the gaining;
To seek no profits where I may,
By winning them, bring grief to others;
To do some service day by day
In helping on my toiling brothers


This is my creed: To close my eyes
To little faults of those around me;
To strive to be when each day dies
Some better than the morning found me;
To ask for no unearned applause,
To cross no river until I reach it;
To see the merit of the cause
Before I follow those who preach it.


This is my creed: To try to shun
The sloughs in which the foolish wallow;
To lead where I may be the one
Whom weaker men should choose to follow.
To keep my standards always high,
To find my task and always do it;
This is my creed—I wish that I
Could learn to shape my action to it.


S.E. Kiser.