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Show Odd People Now "odd" people whatever they are, are certainly not humbugs. Nor are they necessarily bad people quite the contrary. Society, much as it dislikes them, is forced to allow this. Many men and women whom others stigmatize as "so very peculiar," are the latter often confess, not worse, but much better, then themselves; capable of acts of heroism which they know they would shrink from, and of endurance which they would much rather admire than imitate. But then they are such odd people! How! In what does their oddity consist? Generally, their detractors cannot exactly say. It mostly resolves itself into small things, certain peculiarities of manner or quaintness of dress, or an original way of looking at things and a fearless fashion of judging them; independence or indifference to the innumerable small nothings which make the sum of what the world considers everything worth living, worth dying for, but which these odd people do not consider of so much importance after all. Therefore the world is offended with them, and condemns them with a severity scarcely commensurate to their deserts. Especially in things most apparent outside-their manners and their clothing. As a general rule, any style of dress whether an exaggeration of the fashion of the time or a divergence from it, which is so different from other people as to make them turn round and look at it, is a mistake. This sort of eccentricity I do not defend. But I do defend the right of every man and woman to dress himself and herself in their own way: that is, the way which they find most comfortable, suitable, and tasteful, provided it is not glaringly obnoxious to the community at large. A gentleman who, hating the much-abused but still endured chimney-pot hat, permits in going through life with his noble brows shaded by a wideawake: a lady who has manfully resisted deformity in the shape of tight stays and high-heeled boots, has held out successfully against hoop petticoats and dresses tied up like umbrellas, who declined equally to smother her fresh young face under a coal-scuttle bonnet, or to bare her poor old cheeks to sun and wind and critical observation by a small stringless hat, good neither for use nor ornament-such people may be set down as "odd;" but they are neither culpable nor contemptible. They do what they consider right and best for themselves; and what possible harm do they do to other people? Again, many are odd simply because they are independent. That weak gregariousness which is content to "follow the multitude to do evil" (or good, as it happens, and often the chances are pretty equal both ways) is not possible to them. They must think, speak, and act for themselves. And there is something in their ? which makes them a law unto themselves, without breaking any other rational laws. The bondage of conventionality-a stronghold and safeguard to feebler folk-is to them unnecessary and irksome. They mean to do the right, and do it, but they cannot submit to the trammels of more convenience or expediency. Being quite clear of their own minds, and quite strong enough to carry out their own purposes, they prefer to do so, without troubling themselves very much about what others think of them. Having a much larger bump of self-esteem, or self-respect, than of love of approbation, outside opinion does not weigh with them as it does with weaker people, and they go calmly ? their way. (can't read) without knowing or making what are their neighbor's feelings toward them. Therefore their neighbors seeing actions but not motives, and being as ignorant of results as they are of causes, often pronounce on them the rashest judgments, denouncing the quiet indifference of true greatness as petty vanity, and the simplicity of a pure heart and single mind as mere affection. Of necessity these "odd" people are rather solitary people. They may dwell in a crowd, and do their duty in a large family, but neither the crowd nor the family entirely understands, or has much sympathy with them; and they know it. They do not always feel it-that is, to the extent of keen suffering, for their very "oddity" makes them sufficient to themselves, and they have ceased to expect what they know they cannot get. Still, at one time probably they did expect it. That "pernickity" old maid, whom her nieces devoutly hope they may never resemble, may have been the "odd" one-but the thoughtful and earnest one-in a tribe of light-minded sisters, who dance and dressed, flirted and married while she-who herself might possibly have wished to marry once upon a time-never did, but has lived her solitary, self-contained life from then till now, and will live it to the end. That man, who was once a gay young bachelor, and is now a grim old bachelor-not positively disagreeable, but very peculiar, with all sorts of queer notions of his own, may have been, though the worlds little guesses it, a thoroughly-disappointed man; beginning life with a grand ideal of ambition or philanthropy, striving hard to make himself, or to mend the world, or both, and finding that the task is something Like one who strives in a little boat To tug to him the ship afloat. And so, though he has escaped being swamped, he at last gives up the vain struggle, folds his arms, and lets himself afloat mournfully on the ebbing tide. Undoubtedly odd people have their consolations. In the first place they are quite sure not to be weak people. Every one with a marked individuality has always this one great blessing-he can stand alone. In his pleasures and his pains he is sufficient to himself, and if he does not get sympathy he can generally do without it. Also "peculiar" people, though not attractive to the many, by the few who do love them are sure to be loved very deeply, as we are apt to love those who have strong salient points, and in whom there is a good deal to get over. And, even if unloved, they have generally great capacity of loving-a higher ? and it may be, a safer thing. For affection that rests on another's love often leans on a broken reed; love which rests on itself is founded on a rock ad cannot mover. The waves lash, the winds may rave around it; but three it is, and there it will abide. |