--A happy woman!
is she not the very sparkle and sunshine of life?
A woman who is happy because she can't help it — whose smiles even the coldest sprinkling of misfortune cannot dampen.
Men make a terrible mistake when they marry for beauty, or for talent, or for style; the sweetest wives are those who possess the magic secret of being happy under every circumstance.
Rich or poor, high or low, it makes no difference, the light fountain of joy bubbles up just as manically in their hearts.
Do they live in a log cabin.? the fire-light that looms up on its humble hearth becomes brighter than the gilded chandeliers in an Aladdin palace!
Do they eat brown bread, and drink cold water, from the well?
It affords them more satisfaction than the millionaire's pate de fai gras
and iced champagne.
Nothing ever goes wrong with them — no trouble is too serious for them ‘"to make the best of it."’ Was ever calamity so dark and deep that the sunlight of a happy face falling across its turbid tide, would not wake an answered gleam!
Why, then, joyous tempered people don't know half the good they do. No matter how cross and crabbed you feel.
; no matter if your brains are packed full of meditation on ‘"afflicting dispensation,"’ and your stomach with medicines, pills and tonics, just set one of these cheery little women talking to you, and we are not afraid to wager anything, she can cure you. The long drawn lines about the mouth will relax, the cloud of settled gloom will vanish, and nobody knows when, and the first you know, you will be laughing!
Why? that is another thing:--we can no more tell you why you smile in voluntarily to listen to the first blue bird of the season among the maple blossoms, or to meet a knot of yellow-eyed dandelions in the crack of a pave stone.
We only know that it is so.
Oh, these happy women!
how often their slender shoulders bear the wait of burdens that would smite men to the grounds how often their little hands guide the ponderous machinery of life with an invisible touch; how we look forward through the weary day to their fireside smiles!
how often their cheerful eyes see colour de rose
where we only beheld thunder-charged clouds!
No one knows, no one ever will know, until the day of judgment, how much we owe to these hopeful, uncomplaining women!