Mirth is God’s medicine. Everybody ought to bathe in it. Grim care, moroseness, anxiety,–all this rust of life, ought to be scoured off by the oil of mirth. It is better than emery. Every man ought to rub himself with it. A man without mirth is like a wagon without springs, in which one is caused disagreeably to jolt by every pebble over which it runs.
