Cheerfulness as a Life Power | Page 7

how.
They eat and sing and laugh, and see the sun and the moon set, and possess their souls in
smiling peace.
"If a Hawaii woman has a good dinner, she laughs and invites her friends to eat it with
her; if she hasn't a good dinner, she laughs and goes to sleep,--and forgets to be hungry.
She doesn't have to worry about what the people in the downstairs flat will think if they
don't see the butcher's boy arrive on time. If she can earn the money, she buys a nice, new,
glorified Mother Hubbard; and, if she can't get it, she throws the old one into the surf and
washes it out, puts a new wreath of fresh flowers in her hair, and starts out to enjoy the
morning and the breezes thereof.
"They are not earnest workers; they haven't the slightest idea that they were put upon
earth to reform the universe,--they're just happy. They run across great stretches of clear,
white sand, washed with resplendent purple waves, and, when the little brown babies roll
in the surf, their brown mothers run after them, laughing and splashing like a lot of
children. Or, perhaps we see them in gay cavalcades mounted upon garlanded ponies,
adorned by white jasmine wreaths with roses and pinks. And here in this paradise of
laughter and light hearts and gentle music, there's absolutely nothing to do but to care for
the children and old people and to swim or ride. You couldn't start a 'reform circle' to
save your life; there isn't a jail in the place, nor a tenement quarter, and there are no
outdoor poor. There isn't a woman's club in Honolulu,--not a club. There was a culture
circle once for a few days; a Boston woman who went there for her health organized it,
but it interfered with afternoon nap-time, so nobody came."
When, hereafter, we talk about worrying women, we must take into account our
Hawaiian sisters, if we will average up the amount of worry per capita, in our nation.
A WEATHER BREEDER.
It is probably quite within bounds to say that one out of three of our American farming

population, women and men, never enjoy a beautiful day without first reminding you that
"It is one of those infernal weather breeders."
Habitual fretters see more trouble than others. They are never so well as their neighbors.
The weather never suits them. The climate is trying. The winds are too high or too low; it
is too hot or too cold, too damp or too dry. The roads are either muddy or dusty.
"I met Mr. N. one wet morning," says Dr. John Todd; "and, bound as I was to make the
best of it, I ventured:
"'Good morning. This rain will be fine for your grass crop.'
'Yes, perhaps,' he replied, 'but it is very bad for corn; I don't think we'll have half a crop.'
"A few days later, I met him again. 'This is a fine sun for corn, Mr. N.'
"'Yes,' said he, 'but it's awful for rye; rye wants cold weather.'
"One cool morning soon after, I said: 'This is a capital day for rye.'
"'Yes,' he said, 'but it is the worst kind of weather for corn and grass; they want heat to
bring them forward.'"
There are a vast number of fidgety, nervous, and eccentric people who live only to expect
new disappointments or to recount their old ones.
"Impatient people," said Spurgeon, "water their miseries, and hoe up their comforts."
"Let's see," said a neighbor to a farmer, whose wagon was loaded down with potatoes,
"weren't we talking together last August?" "I believe so." "At that time, you said corn was
all burnt up." "Yes." "And potatoes were baking in the ground." "Yes." "And that your
district could not possibly expect more than half a crop." "I remember." "Well, here you
are with your wagon loaded down. Things didn't turn out so badly, after all,--eh?" "Well,
no-o," said the farmer, as he raked his fingers through his hair, "but I tell you my geese
suffered awfully for want of a mud-hole to paddle in."
What is a pessimist but "a man who looks on the sun only as a thing that casts a
shadow"?
In Pepys's "Diary" we learn the difference between "eyes shut and ears open," and "ears
shut and eyes open." In going from John o' Groat's House to Land's End, a blind man
would hear that the country was going to destruction, but a deaf man with eyes open
could see great prosperity.
"I dare no more fret than curse or swear," said John Wesley.
"A discontented mortal is no more a man than discord is music."
"Why should a man whose blood is warm within Sit