"Look pleasant, please!" the photo expert told me, for I had pulled a
long and gloomy face; and then I let a wide, glad smile enfold me and
hold my features in its warm embrace.
"Look pleasant, please!" My friends, we really ought to cut out these
words and put them in a frame; long, long we'd search to find a better
motto to guide and help us while we play the game. Look pleasant,
please, when you have met reverses, when you beneath misfortune's
stroke are bent, when all your hopes seem riding round in hearses--a
scowling brow won't help you worth a cent. Look pleasant, please, when
days are dark and dismal and all the world seems in a hopeless fix; the
clouds won't go because your grief's abysmal, the sun won't shine the
sooner for your kicks. Look pleasant, please, when Grip--King of
diseases, has filled your system with his microbes vile; I know it's
hard, but still, between your sneezes, you may be able to produce a
smile. Look pleasant, please, whatever trouble galls you; a gloomy
face won't cure a single pain. Look pleasant, please, whatever ill
befalls you, for gnashing teeth is weary work and vain.
Look pleasant, please, and thus inspire your brothers to raise a smile
and pass the same along; forget yourself and think a while of others,
and do your stunt with gladsome whoop and song.