Essays and Tales & Days with Sir Roger de Coverley Book

Ah, this was such a lovely, entertaining, witty read.
First about (my) sentiments. I felt a bit (strongly) envious of the friend to which JKJ dedicated this small collection of essays. Well, I assumed, on reasonable ground, that it's a woman, a man, a pet. But no, alas! It is his most beloved smoking pipe! It has, as per below listed, got the best of the lively and trustful attributes to be worthy of this laudatory credit:

"To the very dear and well-beloved friend of my prosperous and evil days-
To the friend who, though in the early stages of our acquaintanceship did ofttimes disagree with me, has since become to be my very warmest comrade-
To the friend who, however often I may put him out, never (now) upsets me in revenge-
To the friend who, treated with marked coolness by all the female members of my household, and regarded with suspicion by my very dog, nevertheless seems day by day to be more drawn by me, and in return to more and more impregnate me with the odor of his friendship-
To the friend who never tells me of my faults, never wants to borrow money, and never talks about himself-
To the companion of my idle hours, the soother of my sorrows, the confidant of my joys and hopes-
My oldest and strongest pipe, this little volume is gratefully and affectionately dedicated."

Indeed, so! I feel (again) a bit (strongly) jealous, what a tremendously charming way to pay a tribute to…something or someone!
This collection of essays - by the way, there is a second volume, too- is a joy to read, while at the same time, it feels like you are hit by cold showers, from the moral lesson point of view. JKJ is again in his best element: humour, wit, a bit of satire, irony, here and there, and everything is wrapped up in a very simple, digestible and common description of the human life, of people or their actions, trying to reveal the weaknesses and idiosyncrasies as states of fact or common aspects of life. I loved the best his very amusing anecdotes. His humour is bright, and his satire can be easily accepted, without turning the knife deep into your wound, or trying to sink in some deep doubts or questions. He is not dwelling strongly on the human sentiments, but only give you a gentle glimpse and, most important, doesn't carry any meanness or wickedness. He wants you to have your wrinkles smoothened on your face. Well, it depends here on how much loosen skin one has. Sometimes, you can get yourself in big trouble, as by laughing out loud strongly, your eyes might be covered totally of that free skin...
I like the way he treats some important subjects by proving that he knows a good deal about the man's and woman's psychology, which allows him to paint, in a very limited space, some very memorable characters, mostly as if talking about himself. His style is clear, straight, and the humorous-satirical shades give the best of the message in all his anecdotes, because in the end we are supposed to extract some lessons, or take-away points, which in most cases, are full of bitterness, grief, sadness, about the human nature...
This little volume gathers 14 essays on: being idle; being in love; being in the blues; being hard up; vanity and vanities; getting on in the world; the weather; cats and dogs; being shy; babies; eating and drinking; furnished apartments; dress and deportment; memory. I loved the most the essays on themes such as: idleness, love, vanity and vanities, being shy, cats and dogs, memory. The others are good enough too, so don't think they should be skipped or skimmed. It is just my personal feel that was moved strongly on those themes. I am now heading into the second volume, which surprisingly was written much later, that is to say when he was in his late 30', while the first volume saw the light of print in his late 20'. If you have a desire for something playful and light, but still thoughtful and inspiring, this is a happy choice.

"Can you remember, reader, when you felt something of the same sort of thing? Can you remember those amazing days of fresh young manhood'how, when coming home along the moonlit road, we felt too full of life for sober walking, and had to spring and skip, and wave our arms, and shout till belated farmers' wives thought'and with good reason, too'that we were mad, and kept close to the hedge, while we stood and laughed aloud to see them scuttle off so fast and made their blood run cold with a wild parting whoop, and the tears came, we knew not why? Oh, that magnificent young LIFE! that crowned us kings of the earth; that rushed through every tingling vein till we seemed to walk on air; that thrilled through our throbbing brains and told us to go forth and conquer the whole world; that welled up in our young hearts till we longed to stretch out our arms and gather all the toiling men and women and the little children to our breast and love them all'all. Ah! they were grand days, those deep, full days, when our coming life, like an unseen organ, pealed strange, yearnful music in our ears, and our young blood cried out like a war-horse for the battle. Ah, our pulse beats slow and steady now, and our old joints are rheumatic, and we love our easy-chair and pipe and sneer at boys' enthusiasm. But, oh, for one brief moment of that god-like life again!"