I doubt not that some of the boys Judge Lindsay seeks to save in Denver, are not all they ought to be, and that sometimes he is disappointed in the results. But does this make him lose heart, or cease to work for the new cases that come? By no means! It makes him more determined than ever to reach their hearts. He is more tender, more long-suffering, more patient, more sympathetic, more loving. The greater the need the greater the endeavor.
The other day I sat down to the dinner table with a friend who outlined to me a project in which himself and four others are interested. It is to buy a farm, on the shores of a small but beautiful lake, a few miles out from one of our great cities, and there establish a home and a school for needy children. These five devoted young people are now working hard and each one is saving every cent he can out of his own earnings that, without calling upon any one else, they may be able to buy the farm. I had asked my friend why he did not go to hear the great actress Bernhardt. The reason was that he preferred to put the three dollars that a ticket to hear Bernhardt would have cost into his "child farm fund." Here was self-denial with joy, for the privilege of service. And whom will he serve? There will be no question asked as to the worthiness or unworthiness of the children that will be received into this home when established.[E]
[E] Since these pages were written this farm-school has become an established fact, and is doing excellent and beautiful work for needy children.
I want to radiate humor and my appreciation of it. But it must be natural, genuine, kind-hearted, sweet, and pure. The humor that has a sting for some one else, that is unkind, unjust, malicious, cruel, or unclean is not for me. And, furthermore, I do not want that any one should ever feel that I can or would enjoy such humor. I want to radiate such a spirit, give forth such an "aura" that no one will ever come to me with unkind or unclean humor, or expect me to want to hear it.
No, true humor is gentle, kind, humane, and human. I think little of any man or woman who cannot enjoy a good hearty laugh. I believe in laughter; in joking, in fun, in wit, in humor--in the things that provoke laughter. Laugh heartily, laugh loud, laugh long, and you will oftentimes laugh away dyspepsia, the blues, and worries. Laugh at your own misfortunes, your own mishaps. My dear friend, Burdette, used to clap me on the back and exclaim in his bright, cheery voice: "Be your own funny man." He once illustrated it by saying, in effect: "You've laughed many a time watching a man chase his hat when a windstorm ran away with it, but how do you feel when it's your own hat? Take a look at yourself. See the spectacle you make--the bewhiskered, the dignified, the long-legged--as you rush frantically after the fleeing tile. Can't you see the fun in bending down, making a dive for the hat, just at the moment an extra gust comes and--flip, flop--the hat scoots on and you grasp the empty space. Laugh at yourself, my boy, and you'll get hold of the world by the tail and conquer it!"
