to admire. He will find that which can feed his heart in the clouds
of morning, the blue of noon, or the stars of night. One graceful vase
with a flower-stalk bending over to display its drooping blossoms,
will fill him with a quiet happiness; the merry laughter of a child,
the tender smile of a lover, the rugged features of a weather beaten
laborer, will stir his soul to response; a few lines of poetry remembered
in the midst of work, a simple song sung in the twilight, a print of
some old master hanging by his bedside, a bird-call heard at sunset
or the scent of evening air after rain, may so speak to his spirit
that he will say, "It is enough!" It is not the number of beautiful
things that we have that matters, but the degree in which we are open
to their influence, the atmosphere into which we let them lead us.
Our hearts must be free from self-seeking, from regret, from anger,
from restlessness. The vision comes not always to the connoisseur,
comes to him whose life is simple, earnest, open-eyed and openhearted.
In the pauses of his faithful work he will refresh his soul with some
bit of beauty that tells of attainment, of peace, of perfection. That
is a proof to him of the beauty in the midst of which he lives,
inexhaustible, hardly discerned; it carries him beyond itself into
the ideal world of which it is a sample and illustration; unconsciously
during the duties of the day he lives in the light of that vision,
and everything is sweetened and blessed thereby.

Can we maintain a steady under glow of happiness?

Happiness--happiness sufficient to make life well worth living is,
for most men at least, at most times, a real possibility. To be won
it has but to be sought vigorously enough. It is to be sought,
however, not primarily by changing one's environment but by
changing one's self; not by acquiring new things, but by acquiring