ON BEING PLEASANT

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Apr 23, 1896

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 22, No. 17.

ON BEING PLEASANT.

SAYS Mr. Thackeray about that nice boy, Clive Newcome, “I don't know that Clive was especially brilliant, but he was pleasant.” Occasionally we meet people to whom it seems to come natural to be pleasant; such are as welcome wherever they go as flowers in May, and the most charming thing about them is that they help to make other people pleasant too. Their pleasantness is contagious.

The other morning we were in the midst of a three days' rain. The fire smoked, the dining-room was chilly, and when we assembled for breakfast, papa looked rather grim, and mama tired, for the baby had been restless all night. Polly was plainly inclined to fretfulness, and Bridget was undeniably cross, when Jack came in with the breakfast rolls from the baker's. He had taken off his rubber coat and boots in the entry, and he came in rosy and smiling.

“Here's the paper, sir,” said he to his father with such a cheerful tone that his father's brow relaxed, and he said, “Ah, Jack, thank you!” quite pleasantly.

His mother looked up at him smiling, and he just touched her cheek gently as he passed.

“The top of the morning to you, Pollywog,” he said to his little sister, and delivered the rolls to Bridget, with a: “Here you are, Bridget. Aren't you sorry you didn't go yourself this beautiful day?”

He gave the fire a poke and opened a damper. The smoke ceased, and presently the coals began to glow; and five minutes after Jack came in, we had gathered around the table, and were eating our oatmeal as cheerily as possible. This seems very simple in the telling, and Jack never knew he had done anything at all, but he had in fact changed the whole moral atmosphere of the room, and had started a gloomy day pleasantly for five people.

“He is always so,” said his mother when I spoke to her about it afterwards, “just so sunny and kind and ready all the time. I suppose there are more brilliant boys in the world than mine, but none with a kinder heart or a sweeter temper, I am sure of that.”

And I thought, Why isn't a disposition worth cultivating? Isn't it one's duty to be pleasant, just as well as to be honest, or truthful, or industrious, or generous? And yet, while there are a good many honest, truthful, industrious, and generous souls in the world, and people who are unselfish, too, after a fashion, a person who is habitually pleasant is rather a rarity. I suppose the reason is because it is such hard work to act pleasant when one feels cross. Very few people have the courage of that cheeriest of men, Mr. Mark Tapley, who made it a point of honor to “keep jolly” under the most depressing circumstances.

People whose dispositions are naturally irritable or unhappy, think it is no use trying to be otherwise; but that is a mistake. If they will patiently and perseveringly try to keep always pleasant, after a while they will get in the habit of smiling instead of frowning, of looking bright instead of surly, and of giving a kind word instead of a cross one. And the beauty of it is, as I said before, that pleasantness is catching, and before long they will find themselves in the midst of a world full of bright and happy people, where every one is as good-natured and contented as they are.—Christian Work.