Part 25 (1/2)

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 wis.h.i.+ng 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.