SUCCESS IN LIFE
IT’S easy to be a success, as thousands of winners confess; no man’s so obscure or unlucky or poor that he can’t be a winner, I guess. And success, Mr. Man, doesn’t mean a roll that would stagger a queen, or some gems of your own, or a palace of stone, or a wagon that burns gasoline. A man’s a success, though renown doesn’t place on his forehead a crown, if he pays as he goes, if it’s true that he owes not a red in the dod-gasted town. A man’s a success if his wife finds comfort and pleasure in life; if she’s glad and content that she married a gent reluctant to organize strife. A man’s a success if his kids are joyous as Katy H. Dids; if they’re handsome and neat, with good shoes on their feet, and roses and things on their lids. A man’s a success if he tries to be honest and kindly and wise; if he’s slow to repeat all the lies he may meet, if he swats both the scandals and flies. I know when old Gaffer Pete Gray one morning was taken away, by Death, lantern-jowled, the whole village howled, and mourned him for many a day. Yet he was so poor that he had but seldom the half of a scad; he tried to do good in such ways as he could—he was a successful old lad!
