Three Peach Stones
Observe a child; any one will do. You will see that not a day passes in which he does not find something or other to make him happy, though he may
be in tears the next moment. Then look at a man; any one of us will do. You will notice that weeks and months can pass in which day is greeted with
nothing more than resignation, and endure with every polite indifference. Indeed, most men are as miserable as sinners, though they are too bored to
sin-perhaps their sin is their indifference. But it is true that they so seldom smile that when they do we do not recognize their face, so Hublot Replica
distorted is it from the fixed mask we take for granted. And even then a man cannot smile like a child, for a child smiles with his eyes, whereas a man
smiles with his lips alone. It is not a smile; but a grin; something to do with humor, but little to do with happiness. And then, as anyone can see, there is
a point (but who can define that point?) when a man becomes an old man, and then he will smile again.
It would seem that happiness is something to do with simplicity, and that it is the ability to extract pleasure form the simplest things-such as a peach
stone, for instance.
It is obvious that it is nothing to do with success. For Sir Henry Stewart was certainly successful. It is twenty years ago since he came down to our
village from London , and bought a couple of old cottages, which he had knocked into one. He used his house a s weekend refuge. He was a barrister.
And the village followed his brilliant career with something almost amounting to paternal pride.
I remember some ten years ago when he was made a King's Counsel, Amos and I, seeing him get off the London train, went to congratulate him. We
grinned with pleasure; he merely looked as miserable as though he'd received a penal sentence. It was the same when he was knighted; he never
smiled a bit, he didn't even bother to celebrate with a round of drinks at the "Blue Fox". He took his success as a child does his medicine. And not one
of his ach