going to the town of Certainty, in the land of Theoretical
Speculation, and wanted some plain directions. "Oh, I can tell you
exactly how to get there," cried Cornelia. "Keep along this road, the
highway of Inquiry, until you find it bends off to the left into the
path of Metaphysics. The path becomes narrower and more difficult
continually, and many side-walks lead off to other spots: one, to the
wilderness of Atheism; another, to the populous city of
Thinkasyouplease; still another, to the dangerous bog of Alldoubt. But
if you follow the right road, you cannot possibly err." "Much obliged:
I'll try to keep the path." Presently, the traveller returned, in a
battered condition: he had wandered from the right track; his cloak of
philosophical reason had been torn by the briers of difficulty; his feet
pierced, through the shoes of intellectual pride, by the sharp stones of
suffering: he could not hear of any town of Certainty in the whole
country of Theoretical Speculation. "I believe we have all made a
mistake," replied George. "We erred in giving you a wrong direction: you
erred in following it. Certainty is situated in the land of Truth:
follow this highway of Inquiry in the opposite direction, until it leads
you to a well-trodden road formed by the juncture of Faith and Facts;
and then you cannot fail to reach Certainty. My sister Fancy misled you
into error." And when the company in the sitting-room cried out "err,"
"err," the shutting of the door showed they were not mistaken. For the
last scene, Aunt Lucy was called into requisition, and formed the
central object of the exhibition. But little wit was required to make,
of the whole, the word _Itinerant_.

"Now for a few puzzles and conundrums," cried Charlie, "I have one which
I think none of you can guess. Who are the most immoral of
manufacturers? Do you give it up?"

"I have heard the answer--we could not guess it, as it consists of
puns," replied Mary. "Those who make you _steel_ pens, and then say they
do _write_."

"Here's another. Why is the clock the most humble of all things?"

"Because it covers its face with its hands, and is continually running
itself down."

"When is it in a passion?"

"When it is ready to strike one."

"Pray, what can be the difference between Joan of Arc and Noah's ark?"

"One was made of gopher-wood--the other was Maid of Orleans."

"Two persons met in the street, and one of them said, 'I am _your_ son,
but you are not _m