I have always thought that, secretly, Mrs. Gummidge had a
roaring time. She really enjoyed being miserable and making everybody about
her miserable. I have known such people, and I daresay you have known them,
too--people who nurse unhappiness with the passion of a miser. They are
having the time of their lives now. They go about saying, "Tu-whit,
tu-whoo! The Russians are beaten again, or if they are not beaten they will
be. Tu-whit, tu-whoo! We're slackers and slouchers and the Germans are too
many for us. Tu-whit, tu-whoo. They're on the way to India and Egypt, and
nothing will stop them. All, all is lost." But I notice that they enjoy a
beef-steak as much as anybody, and do not refuse their soup though they
salt it with their tears.
I like that story of Stonewall Jackson and the owl. The owl was a general,
and he rushed up to Jackson in the crisis of the first battle of Bull's
Run, crying "All is lost! We're beaten!" "Oh," said Jackson, "if that's so
I'd advise you to keep it to yourself." Half-an-hour later the charge of
Jackson's brigade had won the battle.
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