NOTES FROM THE PRAIEIE 89 



and read and write; probably I get my sbare of 

 pleasure from sources that well people are apt to neg- 

 lect. I have learned that the way to be happy is 

 to keep so busy that thoughts of self are forced out 

 of sight; and to live for others, not for ourselves. 



" Sometimes, when I think over the matter, I am 

 half sorry for well people, because, you see, I have 

 so much better company than they can have, for I 

 have so much more time to go all over the world and 

 meet all the best and wisest people in it. Some of 

 them died long ago to the most of people, but to me 

 they are just as much alive as they ever were; they 

 give me their best and wisest thoughts, without 

 the disagreeable accompaniments others must endure. 

 Other people use their eyes and ears and pens for 

 me; all I have to do is to sit still and enjoy the 

 results. Dear friends I have everywhere, though 

 I am unknown to them; what right have I to wish 

 for more privileges than I have 1 " 



There is philosophy for you, — philosophy which 

 looks fate out of countenance. It seems that if we 

 only have the fortitude to take the ills of life cheer- 

 fully and say to fortune, "Thy worst is good enough 

 for me," behold the worst is already repentant and 

 fast changing to the best. Love softens the heart 

 of the inevitable. The magic phrase which turns 

 the evil spirits into good angels is, "I am con- 

 tented." Happiness is always at one's elbow, it 

 seems, in one disguise or another; all one has to do 

 is to stop seeking it afar, or stop seeking it at all, 

 and say to this unwelcome attendant, " Be thou my 



