YOUR “LAUGH” LINES
It was long the popular belief that wrinkles are caused chiefly by sorrow and care. Up pops somebody in this twentieth century to denounce that theory and to declare that the merry folk are far oftener afflicted than the sorrowful and that laughter more frequently furrows the face than tears.
It is a rather happy suggestion; not that wrinkles are welcome, but that cheerfulness is a heaven-sent gift and should be received with grateful hearts. Let laughter ring out loud and long. It is infectious. It uplifts those who hear it. If it brings wrinkles, you may be sure it displaces more hideous lines.
If home were made more cheerful, the law would clutch less often at the throats of criminals and the institutions would open their doors to fewer refugees. We know, when night comes, mothers are tired and husbands fractious with bile and business. The good woman would like to sit down to an interesting book and the man to his newspaper and silence, each feeling the comfort is well deserved from duties well performed.
But have they the right and is it safe to follow the natural bent? Boys and girls will have fun; they will have room and place for noise and laughter and the irresponsible bubbling of youthful spirits. If these be not accorded to them in their home they will surely seek and find diversion outside.
She is the wise mother who, in addition to her deeper anxieties and solicitude, draws and holds with her own largeness of spirit the expanding natures of her laughing girl and rollicking boy. To do this she must be as quick to laugh as to cry with them, recognizing the drollery of their wit and giving it welcome.
There is the cheerful woman who puts herself out to be pleasant to her friends. Meet her on the street and she will treat you to a cheery smile and a soft greeting that has a sweet little melody all its own. Such a woman makes the nightingales sing in one’s heart. She doesn’t send souls into deep mourning as does the whiny woman or the grouchy person or the suffering sister with woes that bury you like an avalanche.
Plenty of persons have troubles, but they don’t shake them out and beat the dust out of them and hang them up in the air all the time and display them for the entertainment of their acquaintances. There is no such thing as being without troubles, and when you run across a woman who gives you a smile and a bright little word don’t tell yourself that it is easy for her, that she hasn’t anything to worry about.
One never knows. She may have, all buried in the depths of her heart, more trouble to the square inch than you have ever heard about. It doesn’t pay to be grumpy. Not a bit of it. It doesn’t pay to be a member of the Tearful Society, either. The only thing that counts is a brave heart filled to the roof with simple, honest charity.
You have seen those awful parlors, haven’t you, in the country districts, where the shades are always drawn and Mme. Moth has garden parties in every corner of the carpet and funereal pictures hang from the wall, and when you open the door you are struck deaf, dumb, blind, and senseless with the frightful mustiness that finally chases you out in the free air?
Some persons shut up their hearts just the same way. Open up the windows. Let sunshine fairies mob the place. Scatter the moths of mortal mind helter-skelter and dig out the bad-conscience corners. You will have a nice, clean, hygienic feeling after your heart housecleaning.
Suddenly you will find you are having a garden party there; you will find yourself entertaining beautiful thoughts, and you will wonder how you ever lived under the old régime when you displayed so little hospitality. It is a fine thing to know how to welcome the big feelings of life. Don’t forget that laughter is a good tonic and a near-panacea for many ills.