A Jolly by Josh | Page 2

would
become, for a time at least, very much happier.
It seems to me that the Declaration of Independence has put it pat when
it defines the principal object for which we strive as "LIFE, LIBERTY,
AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS."
This may seem wandering far from the question of a pony; but, if you
have patience and follow me closely, you will find the old man is not
too far from the point.
Now let us bear fully in mind that Life, Liberty, and Happiness are the
objects which we have in view. In the tangled complications of modern
existence one gets lost and bewildered, unless having very definitely in
mind the objects for which we are striving. We would be like a ship
drifting or sailing in a fog without a compass. We do not know whether
we are attaining and accomplishing, or losing ground, unless we have
definitely in mind an objective point or points with which to make
comparisons of our position at different times.
I do not hesitate to write freely that we are engaged in the pursuit of
happiness, even though shallow minds might take exceptions on the
ground of selfishness. This is not so, as to a properly constituted mind
happiness includes seeing others happy, and the greatest satisfaction
comes from making them so. I will therefore let the Declaration of
Independence stand for the present without amendment.
Let us begin by postulating a great degree of happiness for friend
Harris, who has a dear little wife, a small house, and twenty-five
hundred per year. He will have no vacations and several children; and
though we see him full of happiness now, and envy his good luck and
all, yet we foresee that in twenty years, even though his salary is
doubled, he will have been enabled to lay by nothing, and will have a
little heart-burning at the thought that he cannot give his three
daughters the ball dresses and jewels they see among their boon
companions.

Thompy, who has four thousand now, is not quite as happy as Harris,
and complains a good deal of being poor. He is hard-working and
progressive, and will doubtless double his salary; while Perry who is
getting ten thousand, part as income from property and part as trustee
of something or other, is the poorest man I know. He has desires, tastes,
and expensive habits which would make fifteen thousand a year look
small to him, and can't get along without entertainments and personal
expenses on a considerably higher plane than he can now afford.
Where will you land? As you are heading now, you will never be an
earner--it is more likely that you will be a spender--of money. You
have been accustomed to lots of things you could not afford on ten
thousand a year. Of course, you can cut down to that figure; but where
will it land you when you are married and have three daughters to send
into society? You will be worse off than Harris or Thompy in spite of
the fact that you have twice as much as one and just as much as the
other.
Here is a curious fact I noticed when in college. I was asked by the
manager of the crew to collect subscriptions for him, and I undertook
the job in the dormitory in which I lived. I often found that the richest
men were the poorest. They never had money with them, and, while
they promised large amounts, they seldom paid; while the men of
moderate means seemed to be the ones who would readily promise
reasonable amounts, and then draw a check for it the first time you
asked them. I am stating these facts for the purpose of drawing some
conclusions; and I think you will agree with me, particularly when I
have proved them up by testing them from the other side.
The obvious conclusion sounds almost like a platitude,--that it is not
the amount of money one has that increases one's happiness, but the use
it is put to and the attitude of mind you have toward your income and
the life you can lead with it.
Let us now apply this to your particular case, and draw some more
conclusions.
A priori, you would be dissatisfied because you will be unable to do the

things you have been accustomed to doing, and your attitude will be
that of a man who has to deny himself things he thinks he wants. You
will then cut down the rate of expenditure to within your income, as
you have a certain modicum of sense in regard to matters of this
kind,--not acquired, but inherited,--and permit yourself to spend freely
up to your limits. Observe the result:--
When at the end of ten