ith
a cold repellant cynicism, his passions vented themselves in sneers.
There seemed to him no moral susceptibility; and, what was more
remarkable in a proud nature, little or nothing of the true point of
honor. He had, to a morbid excess, that desire to rise which is
vulgarly called ambition, but no wish for the esteem or the love of his
species; only the hard wish to succeed--not shine, not serve--succeed,
that he might have the right to despise a world which galled his
self-conceit.

* * * * *

"LAUGH AND GET FAT!"

BY JOHN KENYON

Lack we motives to laugh? Are not all things, anything, everything, to be
laughed at? And if nothing were to be seen, felt, heard, or understood,
we would laugh at it too! _Merry Beggars._

I.
There's nothing here on earth deserves
Half of the thought we waste about it,
And thinking but destroys the nerves,
When we could do so well without it:
If folks would let the world go round,
And pay their tithes, and eat their dinners,
Such doleful looks would not be found,
To frighten us poor laughing sinners.
Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!

II.

One plagues himself about the sun,
And puzzles on, through every weather,
What time he'll rise,--how long he'll run,--
And when he'll leave us altogether;
Now matters it a pebble-stone,
Whether he shines at six or seven?
If they don't leave the sun alone,
At last they'll plague him out of heaven!
Never sigh when you can sing
But laugh, like me, at everything!

III.

Another spins from out his brains
Fine cobweb, to amuse his neighbors,
And gets, for all his toils and pains,
Reviewed, and laughed at for his labors:
Fame is _his_ star! and fame is sweet;
And praise is pleasanter than honey,--
I write at just so much a sheet,
And Messrs Longman pay the money!
Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!

IV.

My brother gave his heart away
To Mercandests[*illegible], when he met her,
She married Mr. Ball one day--
He's gone to Sweden to forget her
I had a charmer, too--and sighed,
And raved all day and night about her;
She caught a cold, poor thing! and died,
And I--am just as fat without her
Never sigh when you can sing,
But laugh, like me, at everything!

V.

For tears are vastly pretty things,
But make one ver