Cheerfulness as a Life Power | Page 9

Californy all day,--I had such a good time.
"'Only,' says Henry, after we'd got through the day's work, 'the way you get rich with
these nuggets is to get rid of 'em, instead of to get 'em.'
"That somehow didn't strike my fancy, but we'd had play instead of work, anyway, an' a
great lot of stones had been rooted out of that field.
"An', as I said before, I can't give ye any dictionary definition of optimism; but if your
Uncle Henry wa'n't an optimist, I don't know what one is."
At life's outset, says one, a cheerful optimistic temperament is worth everything. A
cheerful man, who always "feels first-rate," who always looks on the bright side, who is
ever ready to snatch victory from defeat, is the successful man.
Everybody avoids the company of those who are always grumbling, who are full of "ifs"
and "buts," and "I told you so's." We like the man who always looks toward the sun,
whether it shines or not. It is the cheerful, hopeful man we go to for sympathy and
assistance; not the carping, gloomy critic,--who always thinks it is going to rain, and that
we are going to have a terribly hot summer, or a fearful thunder-storm, or who is forever
complaining of hard times and his hard lot. It is the bright, cheerful, hopeful, contented
man who makes his way, who is respected and admired.
Gloom and depression not only take much out of life, but detract greatly from the chances
of winning success. It is the bright and cheerful spirit that wins the final triumph.

LIVING UP THANKSGIVING AVENUE.
"I see our brother, who has just sat down, lives on Grumbling street," said a keen-witted
Yorkshireman. "I lived there myself for some time, and never enjoyed good health. The
air was bad, the house bad, the water bad; the birds never came and sang in the street; and
I was gloomy and sad enough. But I 'flitted.' I got into Thanksgiving avenue; and ever
since then I have had good health, and so have all my family. The air is pure, the house
good; the sun shines on it all day; the birds are always singing; and I am happy as I can
live. Now, I recommend our brother to 'flit.' There are plenty of houses to let on
Thanksgiving avenue; and he will find himself a new man if he will only come; and I
shall be right glad to have him for a neighbor."
This world was not intended for a "vale of tears," but as a sweet Vale of Content.
Travelers are told by the Icelanders, who live amid the cold and desolation of almost
perpetual winter, that "Iceland is the best land the sun shines upon." "In the long Arctic
night, the Eskimo is blithe, and carolsome, far from the approach of the white man; while
amid the glorious scenery and Eden-like climate of Central America, the native languages
have a dozen words for pain and misery and sorrow, for one with any cheerful
signification."
When a Persian king was directed by his wise men to wear the shirt of a contented man,
the only contented man in the kingdom had no shirt. The most contented man in Boston
does not live on Commonwealth avenue or do business on State street: he is poor and
blind, and he peddles needles and thread, buttons and sewing-room supplies, about the
streets of Boston from house to house. Dr. Minot J. Savage used to pity this man very
much, and once in venturing to talk with him about his condition, he was utterly amazed
to find that the man was perfectly happy. He said that he had a faithful wife, and a
business by which he earned sufficient for his wants; and, if he were to complain of his
lot, he should feel mean and contemptible. Surely, if there are any "solid men" in Boston,
he is one.
Content is the magic lamp, which, according to the beautiful picture painted for us by
Goethe, transforms the rude fisherman's hut into a palace of silver; the logs, the floors,
the roof, the furniture, everything being changed and gleaming with new light.
"My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen; my crown is called content; A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy."

III. OILING YOUR BUSINESS MACHINERY.
Business is king. We often say that cotton is king, or corn is king, but with greater
propriety we may say that the king is that great machine which is kept in motion by the
Law of Supply and Demand: the destinies of all mankind are ruled by it.
"Were the question asked," says Stearns, "what is