In every brain there is a bright phantom realm, where fancied pleasures
beckon from distant shores; but when we launch our barks to reach them,
they vanish, and beckon again from still more distant shores. And so,
poor fallen man pursues the ghosts of paradise as the deluded dog chases
the shadows of flying birds in the meadow.
The painter only paints the shadows of beauty on his canvas; the
sculptor only chisels its lines and curves from the marble; the sweetest
melody is but the faint echo of the wooing voice of music.
We stumble over the golden nuggets of contentment in pursuit of the
phantoms of wealth, and what is wealth? It can not purchase a moment of
happiness. Marble halls may open wide their doors and offer her shelter,
but happiness will flee from a palace to dwell in a cottage. We crush
under our feet the roses of peace and love in our eagerness to reach the
illuminated heights of glory; and what is earthly glory?
"He who ascends to mountain tops shall find
The loftiest peaks most wrapped in clouds and snow;
He who surpasses or subdues mankind,
Must look down on the hate of those below.
Though high above the sun of glory glow,
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread,
'Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow
Contending tempests on his naked head."
I saw a comedian convulse thousands with his delineations of the
weaknesses of humanity in the inimitable "Rip Van Winkle." I saw him
make laughter hold its sides, as he impersonated the coward in "The
Rivals;" and I said: I would rather have the power of Joseph Jefferson,
to make the world laugh, and to drive care and trouble from weary brains
and sorrow from heavy hearts, than to wear the blood-stained laurels of
military glory, or to be President of the United States, burdened with
bonds and gold, and overwhelmed with the double standard, and three girl
babies.