The Rambles of an Idler 



whicli has figured in philosophic heads but never 

 materialized, and probably never will. Why, 

 then, not take this earth as we find it, as the 

 birds are doing this splendid morning, and be- 

 lieve that life is labor, fortune ficMe, and noth- 

 ing worse can follow when our round of days 

 is at its end? This is a comforting thought, and 

 if it had only occurred to remote ancestors, a 

 little nearer Elysium would be our present-day 

 condition. 



"The virtue of adversity is fortitude," said 

 Bacon ; but who wants to be brave on an empty 

 stomach? Adversity robs life of its sweetness, 

 its juiciness; it converts it into the squeezed 

 rind of a lemon and, when thus reduced, why 

 should it put on an air of consequence and 

 exhibit fortitude? Does this "virtue" smooth 

 the wrinkled skin, fill the veins again with sap, 

 make the body comely in appearance and some- 

 thing again to be desired? Not a bit of it. It 

 merely keeps the coals of consciousness alive so 

 that they accentuate misery and prolong an 

 undesirable existence. If life is constant battle, 

 as some one has said, it is certainly not worth 

 living. 



256 



