Agnes thought that he must be miserable indeed if he could venture to say this to his mother. She glanced at her mother"s face, but there was no displeasure there. On the contrary, she said this feeling was very natural. She had felt it herself under smaller misfortunes than Hugh"s; but she had found, though the prospect appeared all strewn with troubles, that they came singly, and were not so hard to bear, after all.
11. She told Hugh that when she was a little girl she was very lazy, fond of her bed, and not at all fond of dressing or washing.
""Why, mother! you?" exclaimed Hugh.
"Yes; that was the sort of little girl I was. Well, I was in despair, one day, at the thought that I should have to wash, and clean my teeth, and brush my hair, and put on every article of dress, every morning, as long as I lived."
"Did you tell anybody?" asked Hugh.
12. "No, I was ashamed to do that; but I remember I cried. You see how it turns out. When we have become accustomed to anything, we do it without ever thinking of the trouble, and, as the old fable tells us, the clock that has to tick so many millions of times, has exactly the same number of seconds to do it in. So will you find that you can move about on each separate occasion, as you wish, and practice will enable you to do it without any trouble or thought."
"But this is not all, nor half what I mean," said Hugh.
13. "No, my dear, nor half what you will have to bear. You resolved to bear it all patiently, I remember. But what is it you dread the most?"
"Oh! all manner of things. I can never do like other people."
"Some things," replied his mother. "You can never play cricket, as every Crofton boy would like to do. You can never dance at your sister"s Christmas parties."
14. "O mamma!" cried Agnes, with tears in her eyes, and with the thought in her mind that it was cruel to talk so.
"Go on! Go on!" cried Hugh, brightening. "You know what I feel, mother; and you don"t keep telling me, as others do, and even sister Agnes, sometimes, that it will not signify much, and that I shall not care, and all that; making out that it is no misfortune, hardly, when I know what it is, and they don"t. Now, then, go on, mother! What else?"
15. "There will be little checks and mortifications continually, when you see little boys leaping over this, and climbing that, and playing at the other, while you must stand out, and can only look on. And some people will pity you in a way you will not like: and some may even laugh at you."
"O mamma!" exclaimed Agnes.
"Well, and what else?" said Hugh.
16. "Sooner or later you will have to follow some way of life determined by this accident instead of one that you would have liked better."
"Well, what else?"
"I must ask you, now. I can think of nothing more; and I hope there is not much else; for, indeed, I think here is quite enough for a boy, or anyone else, to bear."
"I will bear it though; you will see."
17. "You will find great helps. These misfortunes of themselves strengthen one"s mind. They have some advantages too. You will be a better scholar for your lameness, I have no doubt. You will read more books, and have a mind richer in thoughts. You will be more beloved by us all, and you yourself will love G.o.d more for having given you something to bear for his sake. G.o.d himself will help you to bear your trials. You will conquer your troubles one by one, and by a succession of LITTLE VICTORIES will at last completely triumph over all."
--Harriet Martineau.
DEFINITIONS.--1. Af-flict"ed, overwhelmed, dejected. Reck"-oned, calculated, counted. 3. Com-pos"er, an author of a piece of music.
Or"ches-tra, a body of instrumental musicians. 7. Ap-prove", sanction, allow. 10. De-ject"ed, discouraged, low-spirited.
NOTES.--2. Francois Huber (b. 1750, d. 1831) was a Swiss naturalist. He became blind at the age of fifteen, but pursued his studies by the aid of his wife and an attendant.
2. Ludwig van Beethoven (pro. ba"to-ven; b. 1770, d. 1827) was born at Bonn, Prussia, but pa.s.sed most of his life at Vienna.
CII. THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.
Sir Henry Wotton (b. 1568, d. 1639) was born at Bocton Hall, Kent, England. He was educated at Winchester and Oxford. About 1598 he was taken into the service of the Earl of Ess.e.x, as one of his secretaries. On the Earl"s committal to the Tower for treason, Wotton fled to France; but he returned to England immediately after the death of Elizabeth, and received the honor of knighthood. He was King James"s favorite diplomatist, and, in 1623, was appointed provost of Eton College. Wotton wrote a number of prose works; but his literary reputation rests mainly on some short poems, which are distinguished by a dignity of thought and expression rarely excelled.
1. 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!
2. Whose pa.s.sions not his masters are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the worldly care Of public fame, or private breath;
3. 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:
4. Who hath his life from rumors freed, Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make oppressors great;
5. Who G.o.d doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day With a religious book or friend.
6. 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.
CIII. THE ART OF DISCOURAGEMENT.
Arthur Helps (b. 1813, d. 1875) graduated at Cambridge, England, in 1835.
His best known works are: "Friends in Council, a Series of Readings and Discourses," "Companions of my Solitude," and "Realmah," a tale of the "lake dwellers" in southern Europe. He has also written a "History of the Spanish Conquests in America," two historical dramas, and several other works. Mr. Helps was a true thinker, and his writings are deservedly popular with thoughtful readers. In 1859 he was appointed secretary of the privy council.
1. Regarding, one day, in company with a humorous friend, a n.o.ble vessel of a somewhat novel construction sailing slowly out of port, he observed, "What a quant.i.ty of cold water somebody must have had down his back." In my innocence, I supposed that he alluded to the wet work of the artisans who had been building the vessel; but when I came to know him better, I found that this was the form of comment he always indulged in when contemplating any new and great work, and that his "somebody" was the designer of the vessel.
2. My friend had carefully studied the art of discouragement, and there was a cla.s.s of men whom he designated simply as "cold-water pourers." It was most amusing to hear him describe the lengthened sufferings of the man who first designed a wheel; of him who first built a boat; of the adventurous personage who first proposed the daring enterprise of using b.u.t.tons, instead of fish bones, to fasten the scanty raiment of some savage tribe.
3. Warming with his theme, he would become quite eloquent in describing the long career of discouragement which these rash men had brought upon themselves, and which he said, to his knowledge, must have shortened their lives. He invented imaginary dialogues between the unfortunate inventor, say of the wheel, and his particular friend, some eminent cold-water pourer. For, as he said, every man has some such friend, who fascinates him by fear, and to whom he confides his enterprises in order to hear the worst that can be said of them.
4. The sayings of the chilling friend, probably, as he observed, ran thus:--"We seem to have gone on very well for thousands of years without this rolling thing. Your father carried burdens on his back. The king is content to be borne on men"s shoulders. The high priest is not too proud to do the same. Indeed, I question whether it is not irreligious to attempt to shift from men"s shoulders their natural burdens.
5. "Then, as to its succeeding,--for my part, I see no chance of that. How can it go up hill? How often you have failed before in other fanciful things of the same nature! Besides, you are losing your time; and the yams about your hut are only half planted. You will be a beggar; and it is my duty, as a friend, to tell you so plainly.
6. "There was Nang-chung: what became of him? We had found fire for ages, in a proper way, taking a proper time about it, by rubbing two sticks together. He must needs strike out fire at once, with iron and flint; and did he die in his bed? Our sacred lords saw the impiety of that proceeding, and very justly impaled the man who imitated heavenly powers.
And, even if you could succeed with this new and absurd rolling thing, the state would be ruined. What would become of those who carry burdens on their backs? Put aside the vain fancies of a childish mind, and finish the planting of your yams."
7. It is really very curious to observe how, even in modern times, the arts of discouragement prevail. There are men whose sole pretense to wisdom consists in administering discouragement. They are never at a loss.
They are equally ready to prophesy, with wonderful ingenuity, all possible varieties of misfortune to any enterprise that may be proposed; and when the thing is produced, and has met with some success, to find a flaw in it.
8. I once saw a work of art produced in the presence of an eminent cold-water pourer. He did not deny that it was beautiful; but he instantly fastened upon a small crack in it that n.o.body had observed; and upon that crack he would dilate whenever the work was discussed in his presence.
Indeed, he did not see the work, but only the crack in it. That flaw,--that little flaw,--was all in all to him.
9. The cold-water pourers are not all of one form of mind. Some are led to indulge in this recreation from genuine timidity. They really do fear that all new attempts will fail. Others are simply envious and ill-natured.
Then, again, there is a sense of power and wisdom in prophesying evil.
Moreover, it is the safest thing to prophesy, for hardly anything at first succeeds exactly in the way that it was intended to succeed.
10. Again, there is the lack of imagination which gives rise to the utterance of so much discouragement. For an ordinary man, it must have been a great mental strain to grasp the ideas of the first projectors of steam and gas, electric telegraphs, and pain-deadening chloroform. The inventor is always, in the eyes of his fellow-men, somewhat of a madman; and often they do their best to make him so.
11. Again, there is the want of sympathy; and that is, perhaps, the ruling cause in most men"s minds who have given themselves up to discourage. They are not tender enough, or sympathetic enough, to appreciate all the pain they are giving, when, in a dull plodding way, they lay out argument after argument to show that the project which the poor inventor has set his heart upon, and upon which, perhaps, he has staked his fortune, will not succeed.