to the Baptist Church." What an
impracticable fellow! Art and literature, among the common people, only
tends to cause mischief. They are to remain our privilege. We know the
demands of good taste and we can afford to pay for the aesthetic
pleasures of life. The majority is unable to do that; besides, to teach
them the beauty of art only means to make them discontented and
rebellious against our authority.

* * * * *

+I frankly admit+ I never had a great admiration for Jesus of Nazareth. A
man of disordered circumstances arouses my disgust. Jesus was neither
engaged in any kind of a business, nor did he possess as much as a bank
account, nor even a steady home. He preached to the poor. What for? The
poor should work and not philosophize. The Scriptures tell nowhere that
Jesus returned the mule, upon which he made his entry into Jerusalem, to
the owner, or that he paid him for it. I strongly suspect he did not do
it. One thing is certain, I never would have taken this dreamer of the
abolition of profits as my business partner.

* * * * *

+It was very hot+ yesterday. I walked through my park, intending to betake
myself to my favorite place for rest and reverie. Suddenly I stood
still, arrested by the sight of a man lying under a tree. In my park?
And how the fellow looked! In rags and dirty! I have been told I was
kind-hearted, and I realized this myself at the moment. I walked over to
the man and inquired interestedly: "Are you ill?" He grunted in reply.
The wretch must have thought, in his sleep, that I was one of his kind.
My generosity did not cease. "If you need money, do not feel shy about
telling me. How much do you need. I am the rich X Y Z, who has a
fabulous fortune, as you have undoubtedly heard." At this remark the
scoundrel turned on the other side, with his back toward me, and said,
while yawning: "What I want? I want to sleep. Will you be good enough to
keep the mosquitoes away for two hours?" Within five minutes I had my
servant kick this impertinent and ungrateful wretch out of my park. If
all of the low class think as this fellow, I fear our charitable efforts
in their behalf will accomplish little.

[Illustration]

+Eleven million+, nine hundred and seventeen thousand, nine hundred and
forty-six dollars and fifty-eight cents is what the gallant Gen. Bingham
asks us for protecting us from each other for the ensuing year. With a
popula