It Can Be Done Part 23

When students came, full of ambition, to the great scientist Aga.s.siz, he gave each a fish and told him to find out what he could about it. They went to work and in a day or two were ready for their report. But Aga.s.siz didn't come round. To kill time they went to work again, observed, dissected, conjectured, and when at the end of a fortnight Aga.s.siz finally appeared, they felt that their knowledge was really exhaustive. The master's brief comment was that they had made a fair beginning, and again he left. They then fell to in earnest and after weeks and months of investigation declared that a fish was the most fascinating of studies. If our interest in life fails, it is not from material to work on. No two leaves are alike, not two human beings are alike, and if we are discerning, the attraction of any one of them is infinite.

The Grumpy Guy was feeling blue; the Grumpy Guy was glum; The Grumpy Guy with baleful eye took Misery for a chum.

He hailed misfortunes as his pals, and murmured, "Let 'em come!"

"Oh, what's the blooming use?" he yelped, his face an angry red, "When everything's been thought before and everything's been said?

And what's a Grumpy Guy to do except to go to bed?

"And where's the joy the poets sing, the merriment and fun?

How can one start a thing that's new when everything's begun?-- When everything's been planned before and everything's been done?--

"When everything's been dreamed before and everything's been sought?

When everything that ever ran has, so to speak, been caught?-- When every game's been played before and every battle fought?"

I started him at solitaire, a fooling, piffling game.

He played it ninety-seven hours and failed to find it tame.

In all the times he dealt the cards no two games were the same.

He never tumbled to its tricks nor mastered all its curves.

He grunted, "Well, this takes the cake, the pickles and preserves!

Its infinite variety is getting on my nerves."

"Its infinite variety!" I scoffed. "Just fifty-two Poor trifling bits of pasteboard!--their combinations few Compared to what there is in man!--the poorest!--even you!

"Variety! You'll never find in forty-seven decks One tenth of the variety found in the gentler s.e.x.

Card combinations are but frills to hang around their necks.

"The sun won't rise to-morrow as it came to us to-day, 'Twill be older, we'll be older, and to Time this debt we pay.

For nothing can repeat itself, for nothing knows the way."

Then the Grumpy Guy was silent as a miser h.o.a.rding pelf.

He knew 'twas time to put his grouch away upon the shelf.

And so he did.--You see, I was just talking to myself!

_Griffith Alexander._

From "The Pittsburg Dispatch."

THE FIGHTER

If life were all easy, we should degenerate into weaklings--into human mush. It is the fighting spirit that makes us strong. Nor do any of us lack for a chance to exercise this spirit. Struggle is everywhere; as Kearny said at Fair Oaks, "There is lovely fighting along the whole line."

I fight a battle every day Against discouragement and fear; Some foe stands always in my way, The path ahead is never clear!

I must forever be on guard Against the doubts that skulk along; I get ahead by fighting hard, But fighting keeps my spirit strong.

I hear the croakings of Despair, The dark predictions of the weak; I find myself pursued by Care, No matter what the end I seek; My victories are small and few, It matters not how hard I strive; Each day the fight begins anew, But fighting keeps my hopes alive.

My dreams are spoiled by circ.u.mstance, My plans are wrecked by Fate or Luck; Some hour, perhaps, will bring my chance, But that great hour has never struck; My progress has been slow and hard, I've had to climb and crawl and swim, Fighting for every stubborn yard, But I have kept in fighting trim.

I have to fight my doubts away, And be on guard against my fears; The feeble croaking of Dismay Has been familiar through the years; My dearest plans keep going wrong, Events combine to thwart my will, But fighting keeps my spirit strong, And I am undefeated still!

_S.E. Kiser._

From "The New York American."

[Ill.u.s.tration: SAMUEL ELLSWORTH KISER]

TO YOUTH AFTER PAIN

Since pain is the lot of all, we cannot hope to escape it. Since only through pain can we come into true and helpful sympathy with men, we should not wish to escape it.

What if this year has given Grief that some year must bring, What if it hurt your joyous youth, Crippled your laughter's wing?

You always knew it was coming, Coming to all, to you, They always said there was suffering-- Now it is done, come through.

Even if you have blundered, Even if you have sinned, Still is the steadfast arch of the sky And the healing veil of the wind....

And after only a little, A little of hurt and pain, You shall have the web of your own old dreams Wrapping your heart again.

Only your heart can pity Now, where it laughed and pa.s.sed, Now you can bend to comfort men, One with them all at last, You shall have back your laughter, You shall have back your song, Only the world is your brother now, Only your soul is strong!

_Margaret Widdemer._

From "The Old Road to Paradise."

CAN'T

A great, achieving soul will not clog itself with a cowardly thought or a cowardly watchword. Cardinal Richelieu in Bulwer-Lytton's play declares:

"In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves For a bright manhood, there is no such word As 'fail.'"