We offer not as anything new, but as something possibly forgotten, the following formulae for obtaining happiness, _viz._: (1) The carrying out in our lives and actions the Golden Rule; (2) total unselfishness as regards self; (3) trying to excel all others in doing what the world calls _good_; (4) condemning no one until we have heard both sides of the question in dispute; (5) having the same tender compassion for all the lower animals that you exercise towards the human family; (6) following out consistently some religious belief, and, until you are convinced of a better one, defending it; (7) above all other things, having charity for every person's short-comings and belief. Add to these a few intrinsic principles: (1) Happiness is no other than soundness and perfection of mind; (2) there are two ways of being happy--we may either diminish our wants or augment our means--either will do, the result is the same; and it is for each man to decide for himself, and do that which happens to be the easiest; (3) happiness is a road-side flower growing on the highways of usefulness; (4) carry the radiance of your soul in your face; let the world have the benefit of it; (5) learn the lesson embodied in this little poem:-- THE TWO WORKERS. "Two workers in one field Toiled on from day to day, Both had the same hard labor, Both had the same small pay; With the same blue sky above, The same green grass below, One soul was full of love, The other full of woe. "One leaped up with the light, With the soaring of the lark; One felt it ever night, For his soul was ever dark. One heart was hard as stone, One heart was ever gay; One worked with many a groan, One whistled all the day. "One had a flower-clad cot Beside a merry mill; Wife and children near the spot Made it sweeter, fairer still. One a wretched hovel had, Full of discord, dirt, and din, No wonder he seemed mad, Wife and children starved within. "Still they worked in the same field, Toiled on from day to day, Both had the same hard labor, Both had the same small pay; But they worked not with one will: The reason let me tell-- Lo! the one drank at the still, And the other at the well." (6) Embody in your lives the better idea of this poem, "Where Do You Live," by Josephine Pollard:-- "I knew a man, and his name was Horner, Who used to live on Grumble Corner: Grumble Corner, in Cross-Patch Town, And he was never seen without a frown. He grumbled at this; he grumbled at that; He growled at the dog; he growled at the cat; He grumbled at morning; he grumbled at night; And to grumble and growl were his chief delight.