s, that fat man will sit down beside me as sure as houses! (_b_) If I
am sitting in a railway carriage hugging to my heart the hope that I may
have the compartment to myself throughout the long non-stop run, for a
surety, at the very last moment, the Woman-with-the-squalling-brat will
rush on the platform and head straight for me! Or, I have only to see
the Remarkably Plain Person hesitating between two tables in a restaurant
to know that she will invariably choose _mine_! (_c_) If there is a bad
oyster--_I get it_! If a wasp flies into the garden seeking repose--I
always look to it like a Chesterfield couch! If one day I have not
shaved--my latest "pash" _is sure to call_! Should I invest my
hard-earned savings in Government Stock it is a sign for an immediate
spread of Bolshevism, and consequent depreciation in all Government
securities. If one day I plan to make a voyage to Cythere--I will surely
catch a cold in my head the night before and, instead of quoting
Swinburne, shall only sneeze and say, "Dearest, I do hope I didn't splash
you!" I fully expect to wake up and find myself rich and famous--the day
I "wake up" to find myself _dead_! And of course, like everybody with a
grievance, I could go on talking about it for ever. Still, I have given
a sufficient number of instances of my ill-luck for ninety per cent. of
people to respond in sympathy. The "big things" so seldom happen that
one can live quite comfortably without them.

But the "Little Things" are like the poor--they are always with us; or
like relations--perpetually on the doorstep on washing day. Perhaps one
ought to live as if one were not aware of them. To have your eyes fixed
steadfastly on some "star" makes you oblivious, as it were, to the
creepy-crawly things which are creepy-crawling up your leg. The
unfortunate thing, however, is, that there seem so few stars on which to
fix your gaze. If you are born beautiful, or born lucky--you have no use
for "stars." To a certain extent you are a "star" in yourself. But for
_nous autres_ there only remains the exasperation of Little Things which
perpetually "go wrong." The only hope, then, for us is to cultivate that
state of despair which can view a whole accumulation of minor disasters
with indifference. When you are indifferent to "luck" it is quite
astonishing what good fortune comes your way. Luck is rather like a
woman--it is, as it were, only utterly abject before a "shrugged
shoulde