The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-07-02
Getting Used to It.

questions, but it would not be very live
ly reading. A few specimens will suf-
flee, taken from the conversation of my
friend over the way, who is in the habit
of dropping in of an evening, and never
fails to have some forty or fifty things
to ask about: elbow do you account
for it that Mr.. A is willing to have Mr..
B live with him in his houseP With his
peculiarly offensive ways it must be a
terrible infection to have the man al
ways hanging round and prying into
everything that is going on. l should
think he would rather pay his board at
a hotel or send him to the almshouse."
Again: "How do you suppose that Mr.
G can bear to live where he does, and
in such an old rattle-trap of a house,
away from everybody, without even a
tree near him, and with that dreadful
bog right in the rear of his housep |
should think they would all die in six
months, and that, at any rate, life would
not be worth living in such q hole as
that" Again; elbow do you imagine
Mr.. d can manage to support his family
on such small incomeP And how can
he endure to earn his living in such a
disagreeable businessP" To all which,
and sundry other questions, all that |
could say was that he had got used to it.
There is an astonishing power in hui
man nature to conform itself to circum-
stances. We can become habituated to
almost any sort of diet, and after a
while begin to thrive on the strangest
kind of food. A man who has lost one
of his limbs, or his sight, or his hearing,
soon gets accustomed to it, and man
ages in some way to supply the defcien-
cy. Chronic invalids get used to lying
in bed and doing nothing, and even
come to be more or less unconscious of
pain, if it is of a steady, persistent ma
ture and does not rack the body.
People get used to doing the most ex-
traordinary things, and to exposures,
which seem to give them no concern.
They will scale precipices, traverse lofty
ridge-poles and steep roofs, climb church
spires, swing out Oh the yard-arm in q
midnight storm when everything is
cased in ice, shoot rapids and cataracts,
ride tip-toe on the back of a galloping
horse, walk on their heads, leap about
among flying trapezes, thrust naked
swords down their throats, breathe fire
and smoke out of their mouths, and per-
form a hundred other inscrutable tricks
before our eyes, simply because they are
used to it. A tired workman will lie
down and go to sleep in the inside of q
copper boiler while forty brawny arms
are riveting bolts on the surface, be.
cause he is used to it. If the noise
should stop he would wake up. A car
conductor will tell who has paid, and
who has not, let the hustle and crowd be
ever so great, because he is used to it,.
A porter will swing trunk upon his
shoulder which Others could not possibly
lift, because he is used to it. A blind
man will tread his way through the
streets, turning the corners and allow
ing for the curbstones with marvellous
facility, because he is used to it. A deaf
man will find out what is said by watch
ing the lips of the speaker and studying
his expression, because he is used to it.
Other creatures besides man have the
same gift of adapting themselves to cir
cumstances, in limited degree. How
to the wolf, can be willing to become
the servitor of man, and run and fetch
for him, take his food from him, follow
his footsteps, and, if need be. even die
for his master? How is it that the de-
scendant of the wild steed of the desert
could ever be reduced to the mental po-
sition of poor omnibus horse, STUN
bling over rough cobblestones and gut
tiers, with whip over his head, and
heavy load of human beings dragging
behind? How is it that the naughty
elephant does not break his heart when
he finds himself marched about as a
show, subject to the tyranny OF keeper,
whom he could wipe out of existence at
q blow-forced to bow and snort and
wave his trunk about, and make fool
of himself in general, and all for the
amusement of such pigmy race as ours?
How is it that the bird, whose home is
among the clouds, can be content to sing
in little cage of wire, and even lay
aside his wildwood notes, to copy the
tinkling melody of piano of wire?
They get used to it, that is all you can
say.
Even the vegetable creation, to some
extent bends to the power of circum-
SUstuccS. N blCC, VI piebhuCu iLOiu uhC
close protection of the wood to the open
lawn, where the sun beats upon it un-
checked and the winds toss it about at
their pleasure, gradually conforms to its
changed condition and strikes its roots
farther and deeper into the soil, and
braces itself to bear the new strain to
which it is subjected as best it may. The
willow, that Graves the water courses,
if it is taken away from the stream and
placed in some other region searches
about under ground for the springs and
the rivulets, and so manages in some
way to thrive. 1t is true that the oak
cannot accommodate itself to flower
pot, neither could very great man
adapt himself to the condition of boot
black. There is limit to both vegeta-
BILE and animal endurance, and there are
some things to which neither tree, or
a beast, or man can get used. Moth
ing can get used to being abused. l do
not believe that any one, unless he has
the skin of rhinoceros, can ever be-
come so habituated to calumny as not to
suffer under it. wonder if certain elo-
quent defamers of their fellow-men, who
hurl their arrows, tipped with steel and
saturated with venom, at almost every
distinguished citizen of the Republic,
ever think of this. -. =
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