king of what I call happiness and success in ameliorating
character. I have known a man who, by necessity, by the pressure of
poverty, was driven to write for the magazines,--a kind of work for
which he had no special talent or liking, and which he had never
intended to attempt. There was no more miserable, nervous, anxious,
disappointed being on earth than he was, when he began his writing for
the press. And sure enough, his articles were bitter and ill-set to a
high degree. They were thoroughly ill-natured and bad. They were not
devoid of a certain cleverness; but they were the sour products of
a soured nature. But that man gradually got into comfortable
circumstances: and with equal step with his lot the tone of his writings
mended, till, as a writer, he became conspicuous for the healthful,
cheerful, and kindly nature of all he produced. I remember seeing a
portrait of an eminent author, taken a good many years ago, at a time
when he was struggling into notice, and when he was being very severely
handled by the critics. That portrait was really truculent of aspect.
It was sour, and even ferocious-looking. Years afterwards I saw that
author, at a time when he had attained vast success, and was universally
recognized as a great man. How improved that face! All the savage lines
were gone; the bitter look was gone; the great man looked quite genial
and amiable. And I came to know that he really was all he looked. Bitter
judgments of men, imputations of evil motives, disbelief in anything
noble or generous, a disposition to repeat tales to the prejudice of
others, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness,--all these
things may possibly come out of a bad heart; but they certainly come out
of a miserable one. The happier any human being is, the better and more
kindly he thinks of all. It is the man who is always worried, whose
means are uncertain, whose home is uncomfortable, whose nerves are
rasped by some kind friend who daily repeats and enlarges upon
everything disagreeable for him to hear,--it is he who thinks hardly
of the character and prospects of humankind, and who believes in the
essential and unimprovable badness of the race.

* * * * *

This is not a treatise on the formation of character: it pretends to
nothing like completeness. If this essay were to extend to a volume of
about three hundred and eighty pages, I might be able to set out and
discuss, in something like a ful