CHEERFULNESS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2230, 26 November 1896, Page 43

CHEERFULNESS.

Your merry heart goes all the day, But your tad heart tires in a mile, O •

In the midst of our art aspirations, cultured influences, tosthetic tastes, literary societies, clubs for vocal and instrumental music, for reading and disoasaion, I feel almost ashamed to mention such a little thing as " Cheerfulness." I almost feel that I must ask the printer to use small type, and I am sure I shall blush when I read in the synopsis of the Witness Ladies' Page, " Cheerfulness, by Eoameline ! " I hasten to say that I am not a cheerful person myself — it's terribly homely and old-fashioned, you know— and- I don't belong to a cheerful family; we are critical and cultured — or nothing.

Perhaps that is why I do so appreciate cheerfulness 1

There are certain old-fashioned flowers that always seem to be redolent of cheerfulness, not from colour or outward semblance, but with the subtle strength of association and suggestion. Dear old-fashioned flowers they are, growing in country gardens where the " berry " bushes are welcome guests in the flower borders ; where tall white lilies rear their lovely heads beside the asparagus beds, while columbines and lad's love and love-in-a-misb stand cheerf nlly contesting the right-of-way to the rhubarb beds. Dear oldfashioned gardens, fragrant old-fashioned flowers 1 Somehow cheerfulness and contentment seem to breathe from the golden wallflowers, the great purple stocks, the fragrant mignonette, and the great pink cabbage roses. Cheerfulness and faith in the truth of "He doeth all things well " seem to beam at us from the open faces of unwinking marigolds and sunflowers. These flowers have nothing to do with culture, refinement, and taste ; they remind me of the simple, unconscious goodness and cheerinegs of the people to whom the pareon so wistfully refers in church when he assured us that " the Lord loveth the cheerful giver."

Everyone is ready to confess the difference that even an hour of sunshine makes in our mental and physical attitude. We are all ready to proclaim tho sun our best doctor, and his exquisite warmth and light our greatest aid to cheerfulness. The ancient sun-worship seems so natural and instinctive that one wonders it was not universal. Of all the pictures drawn of the ultimate extinction of our planet, none is so haunting, so appalling as that drawn by M. Flammarion, the great French astronomer, who describes the gradual cooling down of the sun, and its final extinction as a centre of light and heat. In vain the earth continues her faithful course, in vain she seeks light and warmth from the dying sun, whoso feeble rays have long since lost their virile strength and warmth. Colder and colder grows the sun's once molten mass, colder and more desolate the frozen earth. Spring and summer are dead ; eternal winter binds all Nature in its icy chain ; there is no longer a ray of sunshine I Mighty glaciers fill the fruitful valleys, dull green ice binds the restlees ocean; all life Is annihilated by that arctio cold, until the dead sun and the frozen

earth sweep on Into Space— -extinct, lifeless.

Now of all the dreams of tbo final doom of this beautiful world of oura which men of science have dreamt, this scorns to me the most appalling, for what should we do without the sun ?

It is bad enough to live in a sunless house, and we rack our brains to give a fictitious appearance of light to rooms where the sun is but a niggard guest, hailing each suggestion for artificial brightness with delight. A clear yellow tone for the paper of a gloomy room works wonders. The note of colour may be struck again in quaint frilled curtains, and an artistic relief be obtained by the use of a dull soft blue in cushions, portiere, and pottery, or a suggestion of warmthand riohness for winter wIU be given by substituting Indian red or terra:Cotta for the blue.

Next to sunshine as a cheering factor in our surroundings comes colour, and we all owe moments of untraceable cheerfulness to the influence of colour. The frank gaiety of a gleam of scarlet or crimson on a dull day, the brightness of a jar of yellow daffodils set in the window of a dull room — these things unconsoiously influence us in a minor degree, just rfj muoh as the brightness of a cheery friend consciously uplifts our depression.

We are accustomed to hear old people comment on the decrease of cheerfulness since their own youth, and we are apt to smile and consider the statement .as part of the ßomewhat prosy theme: "Things are sadly changed since your mother and I were young, my dear." "Ah 1 the grapes are sour," is oar comment ; "no longer young themselves, they think there is no joy in youth. We know better, don't we 1 " Yet, making allowance for sour grape?, and the inevitable tendency of age to locate the golden age of the world In their own youtb, there are excellent reasons why the world cannot be so cheerfol a place as it was, say, even 50 years ago. At that time social and religious problems only troubled a few master minds, thoughtful or philanthropic beyond their fellows. To-day they are pressing questions which force themselves upon the masses as well as the classic, and compel men and women to awake from the cheerful optimism of ignorance to the sad realities of knowledge. Fifty years ago the feverish unrest, the sad forebodings, the conflict between the desire to produce aa ideal Socialism and the despairing doubt that the task is eternally impossible, did not trouble the mass of the people. They knew little and cared less about social evolution, labour problems, political- economy, and the industrial outlook. The general tone of life was undoubtedly more cheerful, even though we may declare such cheerfulness to have been the outcome of ignorance or selfishness.

In our own time, among educated people — and where are now the uneducated ?— problems of life confront us from the pages of every magazine we take up, the attempted solution of social questions wearies us even in the pages of our novels, and we lay down the irnjor part of our reading, clever and bri.'llant as it may be, with a sigh. The simple beauty of cheerfulness has nothing to do with the art or the literature, the social or the industrial atmosphere of to-day. We mush face these questions of our day; we cannot shut our ears to the bitter strife of competition, the struggle for very existence which breathes iike the sigh of a broken hope over land and sea. And facing these great unsolved problems, thinking people find it difficult to keep a cheerful mental standpoint; like Martba of old, they are " troubled about many tbiegs."

Bnt in the face of all these difficulties, there is one encouraging circumstance to remember : true cheerful oesa is independent of sunshine, and is not damped or discouraged by the vexed problems of life, for it comes from within, and is induced by the perfect trust and faith which believes that "He doeth all things well." True cheerfulness does not need the stimulant of constant amusement or frequent gaiety, and does not display itself in brilliant conversation or per•petual jokes and laughter. Rather does it consist in seeing the silver lining to every cloud, in dwelling on the brightest aide and the kindliest aspect of everything and everybody.

We all grumble far too much ; we all give thankfulness far too narrow a place in our daily regimen. If we are thankful we shall certainly be cheerf nl, and what a bliss for alt with whom we are brought into contact if only we can exchange the habit of grumbling for tho habit of cheerfulness.

And now let me quote the words of an oldfashioned author, who goe4 to the root of the matter, and thus describes the true grace of cheerfulness: —

" The purer, nobler cheerfulness which emanates from a resignation to the will of Providence, recognising that all things are • very good,' all things best for him to whom they are sent — best for body, best for soul, bowever bitter in the taking and keeping ; however hard in the handling and the holding. This is the fount and spring of that lovely quality of cheerfulness which is worthy of cultivation because it is so necessary to daily life. There are sweet, sunny natures in which cheerfulness seems to flourish spontaneously, requiring neither culture nor care, and uninflaenced by externals of any kind; but these natures are the exception. That it can be cultivated with success is certain, but its culture Bhould, like others, be begun at the outset of life."

From all this you will see that though I distinotly decline to be considered cheerful myself, no one appreciates the charm and beauty of obeerfnlness more than I do, and I only wish that the cheerfulness bad been in my case " begun at the outset of life," for Your merry heart goes all the day, But your sad one tires in a milt, 0— And I often come to the end of my " mile, 01"

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