The Arizona sentinel., 1889-02-23

we to hit it? Another great thinker
said he despaired of being happy since
there is no happiness for the gifted. >
The lament reminds one of the comic
wood-cut of the sensitive plant the
professor at the piano weeping over
his own music, while the company sit
waiting for him to go on. The gifted
thinker argued that happiness dimin-
ishes as intelligence increases; that the
COW in the meadow may be happy. but
not the man. This theory is favOrite
one, because it is fatterin@; but i Is
forgotten that the highest capacity for
pain is also the highest capacity for
enjoyment The COW in the field can
eat grass and lie upon it, and feel the
freshness of the day, and there its com
fort ends. But who can count or meas
ure the variety of joys any one of us
thankless mortals has already received?
Who can describe our capacity for hap
piness? As the starlit heavens are to
our finite vision, it seems to go very
near the infinite.
The more we have, if we get but
leisure to rest and reflect, the greater
is our hunger When we toll up
mountains from summit to summit.
there is always a higher summit that
no man has trod, and we are not one
inch nearer its mists and clouds. Even
when we make our home, and kindle
fire upon the hearth, and gather our
unbroken circle round it, there is a
sense of incOmpleteness. There is a
nameless, formless, something want
ing, which can not be got for love or
money, nor for toll and time and tears.
The infinite craving is the promise of
our Immortality. We should not wish
to lose it. As George Macdonald has
beautifully put it, there will yet come
a moment of surprised recognition in
which we shall exclaim: "This was
what it meant"
Still, though perfect happiness is
not meant for us here, we were meant
to be far happier than we let ourselves
be. As Mrs, Browning has it:
Methinks we do as fretful children do,
Leaning their faces on the window-pane.
To sigh the glass dim with their own breath's
stain,
And shut the sky and landscape from their
view.
We all have our own sky and land
scape, if we will not fret to see some
thing else, In Mr.. Ruskin's newly
edited Christ's Folk in the Apennine,
there is beautiful thought by peas
ant. This Tuscan country woman said
there was no reason why each of us
should not have tIoo parddises-one in
this world, and one in the next; and
''as for myself" she added, Il trust
in my Lord about every thing, and l
think that is why l get on so we'll.
In word, because we can not have
the perfection of happiness, there is
no reason why we should not be
patiently happy each in our place, a
light and strength and a pleasure to
the corners of the world where our
lot is cast.
But how? comes the repeated ques-
tion. Oh that there were some recipe
for happiness in the household books!
There is How to make Claret-cup"
and ''How to remove Stains from Mar
ble;" but not that simplest most neces-
sary recipe, How to be Happy
The best directions would be: keep
an even mind, and carry about with
you the philosophers stone Cor the
modern equivalent for it) to turn COM
mon things to gold" This needs an
or it might be like a GER
tain recipe which is of no use to the
public, begins by requiring "crum-
bublions'' of fine purple color.
Evenness of mind, to the sensitive,
nervous temperament, depends very
much upon order. Regular hours of
rising and of sleep; a certain broad
order of duties in the day, to prevent
hurry, and to give the sense of rest
that comes of duty done-not many
things undertaken, but few and
this is part of the self-discip-
line that contentment depends on.
Secondly, beside order of time, visible
order is great help-neatness of per-
son, and home with the proverbial
''place for every thing and every thing
in its place" or rather restored to its
place on the old-fashioned principle of
as we go. Visible order in its
highest degree becomes visible beauty
the home full of brightness and good
taste, the face and dress and bearing
as pleasing as care can make them.
All this outward order is tonic for
the mind. Thirdly, if we do not culti-
vate the power of silence at need, our
edifice of happiness-the work of MANY
days, built up to shelter ourselves
and others-may all fall down in
one hour. There must be in our re-
cipe, added to the ingredients al
ready stated, a small quantity of self
control in temper. The habit of cheer
fulness will in time create good tenn
per; and, strangely enough, an honest
pretense to be cheerful produces cheer
fulness perfectly genuine. Lastly, look
to what we have, not to what we have
not; and let not trifes vex and sadden
us since our heart is made for greater
things.
This closes the popular recipe for
keeping an even mind; but to be hap
py is something still beyond. Where,
then, is the philosophers stone, that
turns common things to gold? Where
is the mark we can always hit, if hap