"All places that the eye of Heaven visits

Are to the wise man ports and happy havens."

SHAKESPEARE.

"Some murmur, when their sky is clear

And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear

In their great heaven of blue.
And some with thankful love are fill'd
If but one streak of light,

One ray of God's good mercy gild
The darkness of their night.

"In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied.
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How love has in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)
Such rich provision made."

TRENCH.

CHAPTER I.

THE DUTY OF HAPPINESS.1

"If a man is unhappy, this must be his own fault; for God made all men to be happy."-Epictetus.

LIFE is a great gift, and as we reach years of discretion, we most of us naturally ask ourselves what should be the main object of our existence. Even those who do not accept "the greatest good of the greatest number as an absolute rule, will yet admit that we should all endeavor to contribute as far as we may to the happiness of our fellow-creatures. There are many, however, who seem to doubt whether it is right that we should try to be happy ourselves. Our own happiness ought not, of course, to be our main object, nor indeed will it ever be secured if selfishly sought. We may have many pleasures in life, but must not let them have rule over us, or they will soon hand us over to sorrow; and "into what dangerous and miserable servitude doth he fall who suffereth pleasures and sorrows (two unfaith

1 The substance of this was delivered at the Harris Institute, Preston.

ful and cruel commanders) to possess him successively?" 1

I cannot, however, but think that the world would be better and brighter if our teachers would dwell on the Duty of Happiness as well as on the Happiness of Duty; for we ought to be as cheerful as we can, if only because to be happy ourselves, is a most effectual contribution to the happiness of others.

Every one must have felt that a cheerful friend is like a sunny day, which sheds its brightness on all around; and most of us can, as we choose, make of this world either a palace or a prison.

There is no doubt some selfish satisfaction in yielding to melancholy, and fancying that we are victims of fate; in brooding over grievances, especially if more or less imaginary. To be bright and cheerful often requires an effort; there is a certain art in keeping ourselves happy: and in this respect, as in others, we require to watch over and manage ourselves, almost as if we were somebody else.

Sorrow and joy, indeed, are strangely interToo often

woven.

"We look before and after,

And pine for what is not :

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."

1 Seneca.

2 Shelley.

As a nation we are prone to melancholy. It has been said of our countrymen that they take even their pleasures sadly. But this, if it be true at all, will, I hope, prove a transitory characteristic. "Merry England" was the old saying, let us hope it may become true again. We must look to the East for real melancholy. What can be sadder than the lines with which Omar Khayyam opens his quatrains: 1

"We sojourn here for one short day or two,
And all the gain we get is grief and woe;
And then, leaving life's problems all unsolved
And harassed by regrets, we have to go;

or the Devas' song to Prince Siddârtha, in Edwin Arnold's beautiful version:

"We are the voices of the wandering wind,
Which moan for rest, and rest can never find.
Lo! as the wind is, so is mortal life—

A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife."

If indeed this be true, if mortal life be so sad and full of suffering, no wonder that Nirvâna—the cessation of sorrow-should be welcomed even at the sacrifice of consciousness.

But ought we not to place before ourselves a very different ideal a healthier, manlier, and nobler hope?

Life is not to live merely, but to live well. 1I quote from Whinfield's translation.

There are some "who live without any design at all, and only pass in the world like straws on a river: they do not go; they are carried," but as Homer makes Ulysses say, "How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rest unburnished; not to shine in use-as though to breathe were life!"' Goethe tells us that at thirty he resolved "to work out life no longer by halves, but in all its beauty and totality."

"Im Ganzen, Guten, Schönen
Resolut zu leben."

Life indeed must be measured by thought and action, not by time. It certainly may be, and ought to be, bright, interesting, and happy; and, according to the Italian proverb, "if all cannot live on the Piazza, every one may feel the sun."

If we do our best; if we do not magnify trifling troubles; if we look resolutely, I do not say at the bright side of things, but at things as they really are; if we avail ourselves of the manifold blessings which surround us; we cannot but feel that life is indeed a glorious inheritance.

"More servants wait on man

Than he'll take notice of. In every path

He treads down that which doth befriend him When sickness makes him pale and wan Oh mighty Love! Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him." 2

1 Seneca.

• Herbert.