“‘Well,’ ses the King, ‘strictly speaking, when a man doesn’t know what to do himself, the devil a much another can do for him. There is nothing cheaper than advice, and oftentimes nothing dearer, that is, if you are foolish enough to take it from everybody. Looking for advice is only a form of diversion with most people, because we all do what we please in the end. And now, between ourselves,’ ses he, ‘once a man makes up his mind to marry the wrong woman, all the advice in the world won’t save him. And once a man is married, he is no longer his own property. I have done my best for you,’ ses the King, ‘but the world is full of people who can do as little as myself. Howsomever, I will give you a letter of introduction to my friend the President of the United States, as you are on your way to America, and he may be able to help you.’
“‘Thank you very much,’ ses Matty. ‘I have already been in America, and I have had as many letters of introduction as would paper the house for you, but they were no more use to me than they were to Columbus. No more use, I might say, than a fur-lined coat and a pair of warm gloves would be to the Devil himself. But I am none the less grateful for your kindness.’
“‘I am glad you are able to appreciate kindness,’ ses the King. ‘Because very few people know when they are well treated, or when they are well off.’
“‘That’s a fact,’ ses Matty. ‘But ’tis the spirit of discontent that keeps the world moving. The man who is satisfied with himself usually proves unsatisfactory to every one else.’
“‘But,’ ses the King, ‘when a man has the gift of being able to please himself, what does it matter, if he displeases every one else? ’Tis nice, of course, to have a lot of friends, but a man’s friends very often can cause him more annoyance than his enemies, and he must endure it to prove his inconsistency. Whereas in the case of an enemy, you can always lose your self-respect by abusing him when you are displeased with his success, and no one will think anything the less of you.’
“‘’Tis only by making allowances and excuses for each other’s short-comings and idiosyncracies that we are able to live at all. And if we could see the good in the worst of us as easily as we can see the bad in the best of us, we might think less of ourselves and more of those we despise. ’Tis only by being better than those who are worse than us that we can respect ourselves, I’m thinking,’ ses Matty.
“‘Well,’ ses the King, ‘what the devil a man with as much sense as yourself wants committing suicide for is more than I can understand!’
“‘Maybe ’tis as well,’ ses Matty. ‘The less we know about each other, the happier we can be. Nearly every one of us has some disease of the mind or body that shortens our natural existence. Some suffer from too much conceit, others from a shaky heart, or a loose brain caused by a nagging wife, or too much hard work and not enough to eat, and various other causes, but there is always a reason for everything, even the unreasonableness of those who have no reason at all.’
“‘Old talk, like this,’ ses the King, ‘leads nowhere, because no matter how much we may know about art, literature, and music, the very best of us can only be reasonable and sensible when we have nothing to upset us. A hungry man is always angry, and an angry man is never sensible. On the other hand, a man will make a lot of foolish promises and resolutions after a good dinner, and when he begins to get hungry again he will think that he was a fool for having entertained such decent sentiments.’
“‘In a word,’ ses Matty, ‘selfishness is the normal condition of every one. Some are selfish by being decent, and others by being mean, but strictly speaking, there is very little difference between them, because we all please ourselves, no matter what we do.’