Part 6 (1/2)
”Happiness,” says one writer, ”is a mosaic, composed of many smaller stones.” It is the little acts of kindness, the little courtesies, the disposition to be accommodating, to be helpful, to be sympathetic, to be unselfish, to be careful not to wound the feelings, not to expose the sore spots, to be charitable of the weaknesses of others, to be considerate,--these are the little things which, added up at night, are found to be the secret of a happy day. How much greater are all these than one great act of noteworthy goodness once a year! Our lives are made up of trifles; emergencies rarely occur. ”Little things, unimportant events, experiences so small as to scarcely leave a trace behind, make up the sum-total of life.” And the one great thing in life is to do a little good to every one we meet. Ready sympathy, a quick eye, and a little tact, are all that are needed.
This point is happily ill.u.s.trated by this report of an incident upon a train from Providence to Boston. A lady was caring for her father, whose mental faculties were weakened by age. He imagined that some imperative duty called on him to leave the swift-moving train, and his daughter could not quiet him. Just then she noticed a large man watching them over the top of his paper. As soon as he caught her eye, he rose and crossed quickly to her.
”I beg your pardon, you are in trouble. May I help you?”
She explained the situation to him.
”What is your father's name?” he asked.
She told him; and then with an encouraging smile, she spoke to her venerable father who was sitting immediately in front of her. The next moment the large man turned over the seat, and leaning toward the troubled old man, he addressed him by name, shook hands with him cordially, and engaged him in a conversation so interesting and so cleverly arranged to keep his mind occupied that the old gentleman forgot his need to leave the train, and did not think of it again until they were in Boston. There the stranger put the lady and her charge into a carriage, received her a.s.surance that she felt perfectly safe, and was about to close the carriage door, when she remembered that she had felt so safe in the keeping of this n.o.ble-looking man that she had not even asked his name. Hastily putting her hand against the door, she said: ”Pardon me, but you have rendered me such service, may I not know whom I am thanking?” The big man smiled as he turned away, and answered:--
”PHILLIPS BROOKS.”
”What a gift it is,” said Beecher, who was the great preacher of cheerfulness, ”to make all men better and happier without knowing it! We do not suppose that flowers know how sweet they are. These roses and carnations have made me happy for a day. Yet they stand huddled together in my pitcher, without seeming to know my thoughts of them, or the gracious work they are doing. And how much more is it, to have a disposition that carries with it involuntarily sweetness, calmness, courage, hope, and happiness. Yet this is the portion of good nature in a large-minded, strong-natured man. When it has made him happy, it has scarcely begun its office. G.o.d sends a natural heart-singer--a man whose nature is large and luminous, and who, by his very carriage and spontaneous actions, calms, cheers, and helps his fellows. G.o.d bless him, for he blesses everybody!” This is just what Mr. Beecher would have said about Phillips Brooks.
And what better can be said than to compare the heart's good cheer to a floral offering? _Are not flowers appropriate gifts to persons of all ages, in any conceivable circ.u.mstances in which they are placed? So the heart's good cheer and deeds of kindness are always acceptable to children and youth, to busy men and women, to the aged, and to a world of invalids._
”Thus live and die, O man immortal,” says Dr. Chalmers. ”Live for something. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of virtue, which the storms of time can never destroy. Write your name in kindness, love, and mercy, on the hearts of those who come in contact with you, and you will never be forgotten. Good deeds will s.h.i.+ne as brightly on earth as the stars of heaven.”
What is needed to round out human happiness is a well-balanced life. Not ease, not pleasure, not happiness, but a man, Nature is after. ”There is,” says Robert Waters, ”no success without honor; no happiness without a clear conscience; no use in living at all if only for one's self. It is not at all necessary for you to make a fortune, but it is necessary, absolutely necessary, that you should become a fair-dealing, honorable, useful man, radiating goodness and cheerfulness wherever you go, and making your life a blessing.”
”When a man does not find repose in himself,” says a French proverb, ”it is vain for him to seek it elsewhere.” Happy is he who has no sense of discord with the harmony of the universe, who is open to the voices of nature and of the spiritual realm, and who sees the light that never was on sea or land. Such a life can but give expression to its inward harmony. Every pure and healthy thought, every n.o.ble aspiration for the good and the true, every longing of the heart for a higher and better life, every lofty purpose and unselfish endeavor, makes the human spirit stronger, more harmonious, and more beautiful. It is this alone that gives a self-centered confidence in one's heaven-aided powers, and a high-minded cheerfulness, like that of a celestial spirit. It is this which an old writer has called the paradise of a good conscience.
”I count this thing to be grandly true, That a n.o.ble deed is a step toward G.o.d; Lifting the soul from the common clod To a purer air and a broader view.
”We rise by the things that are under our feet; By what we have mastered of good or gain; By the pride deposed and the pa.s.sion slain, And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.”
”My body must walk the earth,” said an ancient poet, ”but I can put wings on my soul, and plumes to my hardest thought.” The splendors and symphonies and the ecstacies of a higher world are with us now in the rudimentary organs of eye and ear and heart. Much we have to do, much we have to love, much we have to hope for; and our ”joy is the grace we say to G.o.d.” ”When I think upon G.o.d,” said Haydn to Carpani, ”my heart is so full of joy that the notes leap from my pen.”
Says Gibbons:--
”Our lives are songs: G.o.d writes the words, And we set them to music at leisure; And the song is sad, or the song is glad, As we choose to fas.h.i.+on the measure.
”We must write the song Whatever the words, Whatever its rhyme or meter; And if it is sad, we must make it glad, And if sweet, we must make it sweeter.”
VI. ”LOOKING PLEASANT”--SOMETHING TO BE WORKED FROM THE INSIDE.
Acting on a sudden impulse, an elderly woman, the widow of a soldier who had been killed in the Civil War, went into a photographer's to have her picture taken. She was seated before the camera wearing the same stern, hard, forbidding look that had made her an object of fear to the children living in the neighborhood, when the photographer, thrusting his head out from the black cloth, said suddenly, ”Brighten the eyes a little.”
She tried, but the dull and heavy look still lingered.
”Look a little pleasanter,” said the photographer, in an unimpa.s.sioned but confident and commanding voice.
”See here,” the woman retorted sharply, ”if you think that an old woman who is dull can look bright, that one who feels cross can become pleasant every time she is told to, you don't know anything about human nature. It takes something from the outside to brighten the eye and illuminate the face.”
”Oh, no, it doesn't! _It's something to be worked from the inside._ Try it again,” said the photographer good-naturedly.
Something in his manner inspired faith, and she tried again, this time with better success.