How does a man become so great that malice and envy and utter hatred
cannot by their constant stings infect his blood? How can a man silently
amass a capital of virtuous renown which, when the clear vision of
adversity is given to the people, will show with unerring certainty his
assets and liabilities of character? It is hard to say. Accidents and
circumstances so surround us all that we are the clay, baked either in
fair moulds or foul. When the mould is made we have the least judgment;
yet when the clay is baked we must abide.
Josh Billings has said that, "after the age of forty, a man cannot form
new habits; the best he can do is to learn to steer the old ones." Yoke,
therefore, the ox you call Firmness with the one you call Contentment.
When you come to drive them down the road the neighbors may laugh at the
hawing and jeeing, and jee-hawing, but keep on until you break your oxen
in. No man ever got so he could handle that team but had