him. "I shall be able to step through my own
part, I think." He paused, and I was wondering secretly, "Does that
include the wedding?" when he continued: "What's there to laugh at?"

"Why, our imperishable selves! For instance: we swear by universal
suffrage. Well, sows' ears are an invaluable thing in their place,
on the head of the animal; but send them to make your laws, and what
happens? Bribery, naturally. The silk purse buys the sow's ear. We swear
by Christianity, but dishonesty is our present religion. That little
phrase 'In God We Trust' is about as true as the silver dollar it's
stamped on--worth some thirty-nine cents. We get awfully serious about
whether or no good can come of evil, when every sky-scraping thief
of finance is helping hospitals with one hand while the other's in my
pocket; and good and evil attend each other, lead to each other, are
such Siamese twins that if separated they would both die. We make
phrases about peace, pity, and brotherhood, while every nation stands
prepared for shipwreck and for the sinking plank to which two are
clinging and the stronger pushes the weaker into the flood and thus
floats safe. Why, the old apple of wisdom, which Adam and Eve swallowed
and thus lost their innocence, was a gentle nursery drug compared
with the new apple of competition, which, as soon as chewed, instantly
transforms the heart into a second brain. But why worry, when nothing is
final? Haven't you and I, for instance, lamented the present rottenness
of smart society? Why, when kings by the name of George sat on the
throne of England, society was just as drunken, just as dissolute! Then
a decent queen came, and society behaved itself; and now, here we come
round again to the Georges, only with the name changed! There's nothing
final. So, when things are as you don't like them, remember that and
bear them; and when they're as you do like them, remember it and make
the most of them--and keep a good sleeve handy!"

"Have you got any creed at all?" he demanded.

"Certainly; but I don't live up to it."

"That's not expected. May I ask what it is?"

"It's in Latin."

"Well, I can probably bear it. Aunt Eliza had a classical tutor for me."

I always relish a chance to recite my favorite poet, and I began
accordingly:--

"Laetus in praesens animus quod ultra est
Oderit curare et--"

"I know that one!" he exclaimed, interrupting me. "The tutor made me
put it into English verse