What a puzzle are those Hibernians!

HOW BITING THE WITTICISM OF CHIN LAN PIN,

the Chinese Ambassador to the United States, that they are able to govern every other country save their own!  Behold a statesman like Gladstone, forced to change his policy toward them the moment he has the responsibility of governing them!  Oh! what an opportunity for the little foxes!  How easily Envy spears him with its jest!  How truly Envy shines with the wings of that fly that passes all the sounder parts of a man’s body to dwell upon the sores!  In this rapid glance across two of the trials of a great man, across the path up to the peak where one clambering must bind himself with strong ropes to his companions, that if one sink into a snow-covered abyss the others may bring him forth—­we get, perhaps, a truer view of

THE MEANESS OF ENVY.

Let us look at Gladstone as the great, wise, good, learned man he is, whose wreath of laurel covers a crown of thorns.  And if we find an associate making those fatiguing efforts that ever precede the recognition of this cold world, let us glance rather at his efforts than at his fame, that no rust may gather on the brightness of our eye, and no withering cloud shut out the sunlight from our spirits.

I CANNOT CLOSE THIS CHAPTER

without imploring the reader to exterminate this characteristic of envy altogether.  Because it is at first so little and so ridiculous, envy often escapes the hand of discipline.  Yet the homely saying is a true one that “they which play with the devil’s rattles will be brought by degrees to wield his sword,” and the force of a nature given up to envy is truly a two-edged sword from the bottomless pit, cutting both the fiend who smites and the victim who smarts.

CONTENTMENT.

Mrs. Lofty keeps a carriage—­
So do I.
She has dappled grays to draw it—­
None have I.—­Alma Calder.

Unquestionably, the baby-carriage of the poet, with contentment, was a far richer establishment than the gilded barouche and the dappled grays of childless Mrs. Lofty.  Riches are often childless; poverty is often contented.  Happiness is a golden spell inwoven with most of our lives at certain times, whether we be rich or poor.  The first surprise of the newly-rich comes in the non-discovery of additional happiness.  Additional cares and duties come thickly enough.  The greed of the envious, and the demands of the poor who are likewise needy in thoughtfulness for their more fortunate neighbors, fall upon the wealthy like a mist.  There is no escaping it.  As James Russell Lowell says of a Scotch fog—­an umbrella will afford no protection.  They must give all, or accept the hatred of those who believe it to be easier to give than to receive.  “Contentment is natural wealth,” says Socrates; “luxury is artificial poverty.”  Contentment is generally a sign of a high class of character.  “If two angels were sent down,” says John Newton, “one to conduct an empire and the other to sweep a street, they would feel no inclination to change employments.”