When Deacon Hotchkiss bought Brother Bemis’ yearling heifer he demanded a guarantee of the animal’s condition, and he asked Brother Bemis to swear to that guarantee before the justice of peace. Brother Bemis was hurt by this unusual precaution on the part of a lifelong friend and neighbor. “Why, Brother Hotchkiss,” he remonstrated, “you ain’t no need to be so pesky s’picious with me. I ain’t never cheated you, hev I? You wa’nt like this never before.” “I wa’nt—I wa’nt,” assented Brother Hotchkiss cordially, “but I hearn you t’other night when you wuz on the anxious seat at revival meetin’ and I sez to myself, sez I, ‘if Brother Bemis is half the sinner he makes himself out to be, it behooves me to be everlastin’ keerful with him next caow trade.’” Which goes to show that a man is more likely to be taken at his own estimate of himself when he puts that estimate low than when he puts it high; and that it is not overwise in a man to make estimate of himself in time of excitement and a place of publicity. (Text.)—Puck.
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SELF-DISPLAY
Many men embrace the most trivial opportunities to attract attention to themselves, with far less reason than the great actor in this incident recorded in Scribner’s Magazine:
Nothing else he ever did equaled Mansfield’s recital of his experience the night he condescended to the plebeian rôle of a waiter and wore an apron. His whole “business” was to draw a cork, but he took pains to drive that cork home before coming on the stage. When his cue came to draw the cork he tugged and tugged in vain. His face grew scarlet and perspiration dropt from his forehead. Then he handed the bottle to another waiter, who struggled with all his strength without budging the cork. Mansfield turned a deaf ear to the voices in the wings shouting for him to leave the stage. He took the bottle back again and with renewed effort finally dislodged the cork. The insignificant pop it gave after those Titanic efforts again brought down the house.
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SELF-EFFACEMENT
Was Rafael, think you, when he painted his pictures of the Virgin and Child in all their inconceivable truth and beauty of expression, thinking most of his subject or of himself? Do you suppose that Titian, when he painted a landscape, was pluming himself on being thought the finest colorist in the world, or making himself so by looking at nature? Do you imagine that Shakespeare, when he wrote “Lear” or “Othello,” was thinking of anything but “Lear” and “Othello”? Or that Mr. Kean, when he plays these characters, is thinking of the audience? No; he who would be great in the eyes of others, must first learn to be nothing in his own. (Text.)—William Hazlitt.
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SELF-ESTEEM