Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1882-03-25
Fraser's Magazine.

conditions or your being DO mol
vex yourself and break your heart
struggling against what is IRENE
diabie. Do not look to find here
what is not to be found. Do not
fancy that wiser and luckier folks
have found it, and that you would
have found it, too, but for some un-
happy mistake you made at crit
ical turning in your life. The mis-
takes you have made, if you be an
ordinary mortal living an ordinary
life, have not, in fact, done your
life much harm. You are making
Just about as much of things in this
world as it was in you to make at
all. Make the best of the bargain
you have made in this or that.
Doubtless you see it was not a per-
fectly wise bargain. You would
not make it again. Had you been
considerably wiser than Solomon
you might never have made it at
all. But you are in for it now.
Make the best of things, in good
nature and cheerfulness. Do not
NOPE and keep thinking, thinking,
how much better you might have
done, and Qike Mr.. Bumble) how
cheap you went. So doing, you
will be making the very worst of
things. You will be deliberately
blaekening the sky under which
you must live if you are to live at
all you will 'grow into "a curse to
yourself and nuisance TO your neigh
bors. Their Is plenty for you to do.
Go and do it. There are people a
thousand times worse off than you.
Try and help them. And for any
sake, do not always be thinking
about yourself. Get away from
that unsatisfactory subject of con-
temptation. And be quite sure that
if you have.tOld your special friends
about ten times each, how unhappy
you are and how many blunders
you have made, they are by this
time most uncommOnly sick both
of you and them.
Being what you are, it is quite
certain that if you had not done the
foolish things you did, you would
have done something else as bad or
worse. You married early, when
you could not afford it; you had
some anxious years ; days have
been when it seemed the poor head
was TO go under water altogether.
Well, but it did not. You have
lived through these anxieties; why
recall them? You have got upon
firm ground. BE thankful. 1t is
far more and better than you de
serve. And the burden which lay
on you so heavily may have saved
you from making an ineXpressible
fool of YOURSELF A man of sixty
dangling after some silly girl Of FIVE
and twenty is an amazing and hum
bling object of contemplation. Even
he suspects himself to be a fool;
everybody around knows it. Now
you, with your seven grOwn-up
sons, and with your masterful wife,
are safe not to make fool of your
self in that particular way. Other
ways are open to you. But not one
which leads to manifestations quite
so deplOrable and contemplate. 1t
is likely enough you would advise
a friend not to make the turning
you did. y man who has moth
er-in-law will generally counsel any
mortal man TO marry an orphan.
But this comes of your knowing the
evils you have, and being unaware
the corner, and from which no
all things here, your profession,
your wife, your house, horses, your
servants, your native country with
its climate, all your environment,
for better for worse. a friend wor-
ries you by little weaknesses, but
he is better than no friend at all.
He may be likened to a gift of
thousand pounds, subject TO a de-
duction of two hundred and fifty.
1t is a disadvantage about a loco
motive engine that it gets so hot.
But you must accept the engine I'M
der that deduction. For it will not
20 unless il be so hot. If you, be-
ing a human being living in this
imperfect system of things, will
break away form everything which
has its ircOnveniences, you will
leave yourself without any posses
SiOns or surroundings whatever.
To speak gravely: One remarks,
in these advancing years, that the
great anxiety and care of worthy
men and women, growing old, are
about their children the lesser
ones, still going to school; the big
ger ones, for whom you are seeking
an aim in life, or whom have gone
far away. No doubt, if YOU had no
children you would be free from
many anxious thoughts. The in
come would go much farther. The
furniture and the painting of your
house would last much longer. You
could indulge in many luXuries
now impossible. You might buy
books without stint and cross the
Alps yearly. But you would not
have these selfish indulgences at
the price. 1t is cherries thing,
childless home. No one will bear
with you in the last fretfuIness, and
smooth the last steps of your way,
like your own boy or girl. II there
be i'm you any good at all, il has
been brought out mainly by the
continual presence and charge of
your children. And you have had
CLEANS of pure and unselfish happi-
ness. which are unknown in a lone
ly life. Had you kept clear of the
responsibilities of life, and given no
hostages To fortune, you would, no
doubt, have presented Il narrow
mark to the shafts of care. But I'M
less you were very poor creature
indeed, every time you heard the
laughter of the little ones, and
watched their winSOme ways,
their thoughtless merriment, you
would have felt that you had missed
the best happiness of this life. And
to do that Of your free will Is surely
the greatest of all mistakes. Your
library may be full of beautifully
bound volumes; your carpets UNI
worn, your walls unmarked by lit
tie fingers, no sudden noises may
jar your nerves; no eager little face
look i'm when you are in the very
middle of a complicated sentence,
and break the tenor of your
thoughts. And you never yet saw
the childish eyes close upon this
world; nor received the last kiss
from lips that were growing cold,
when Somebody as OF odd "called
to Himself little child" You
never knew that terrible trial,
which no faith and no hope could
make anything other. But neither
did YOU ever see the bright looks
lighted up when you return from a
brief absence, nor did little patter-
ing feet run to meet you. You
never were earnestly question
ed as to what you had brought;
l,o.,inor earnestly considered Lon