The Art of Not Hearing.
By Moravian
THE art of not hearing is fully as important to domestic happiness as a cultivated ear, for which so much time and money are expended. There are so many things which it is painful to hear, many of which, if heard, will disturb the temper, and detract from contentment and happiness, that every one should be expected to take in or shut out sounds at will. If a man falls into a violent passion, and calls me all manner of names, the first word shuts my ear, and I hear no more. If in my quiet voyage of life I am caught in one of those domestic whirlwinds of scolding, I shut my eyes, as a sailor would furl his sail, and making all tight, scud before the gale. If a hot and restless man begins to inflame my feelings, I consider what mischief these sparks might do in the magazine below, where my temper is kept, and close the door. Does a gadding, mischief-making fellow begin to inform me what people are saying of me up town, down drops the portcullis of my ear, and he cannot get in any further. Some people are very anxious to hear everything that will vex or annoy them. If it is hinted that any one has spoken ill of them, they instantly set about searching and finding it out. If all the petty things said of one by heedless or ill-natured idlers, were brought home to him, he would become a mere walking pin-cushion, stuck full of sharp remarks. I should as soon thank a man for emptying on my bed a bushel of nettles, or setting loose a swarm of mosquitoes in my chamber, or raising a dust in my house generally, as to bring up to me all the tattle of a spiteful people. If you would be happy, when among good men, open your ears; when among bad men, shut them. It is not worth while to hear what your servants say when they are angry; what your children say after they have slammed the door; what a beggar says whose petition you have rejected; what your neighbors say about your children; what your rivals say about your business or dress. I have noticed that a well-bred woman never hears an impertinent remark. A kind of discreet deafness saves one from many insults, and from much blame.—Moravian.