ging taste, the keen smell, and lively touch; it is the
interpreter of all riddles, the surmounter of all difficulties, the
remover of all obstacles."

The world is full of theoretical, one-sided, impractical men, who have
turned all the energies of their lives into one faculty until they have
developed, not a full-orbed, symmetrical man, but a monstrosity, while
all their other faculties have atrophied and died. We often call these
one-sided men geniuses, and the world excuses their impractical and
almost idiotic conduct in most matters, because they can perform one
kind of work that no one else can do as well. A merchant is excused if
he is a giant in merchandise, though he may be an imbecile in the
drawing-room. Adam Smith could teach the world economy in his "Wealth
of Nations," but he could not manage the finances of his own household.

Many great men are very impractical even in the ordinary affairs of
life. Isaac Newton could read the secret of creation; but, tired of
rising from his chair to open the door for a cat and her kitten, he had
two holes cut through the panels for them to pass at will, a large hole
for the cat, and a small one for the kitten. Beethoven was a great
musician, but he sent three hundred florins to pay for six shirts and
half a dozen handkerchiefs. He paid his tailor as large a sum in
advance, and yet he was so poor at times that he had only a biscuit and
a glass of water for dinner. He did not know enough of business to cut
the coupon from a bond when he wanted money, but sold the whole
instrument. Dean Swift nearly starved in a country parish where his
more practical classmate Stafford became rich. One of Napoleon's
marshals understood military tactics as well as his chief, but he did
not know men so well, and lacked the other's skill and tact. Napoleon
might fall; but, like a cat, he would fall upon his feet.

For his argument in the Florida Case, a fee of one thousand dollars in
crisp new bills of large denomination was handed to Daniel Webster as
he sat reading in his library. The next day he wished to use some of
the money, but could not find any of the bills. Years afterward, as he
turned the page of a book, he found a bank-bill without a crease in it.
On turning the next leaf he found another, and so on until he took the
whole amount lost from the places where he had deposited them
thoughtlessly, as he read. Learning of a new issue of gold pieces at
the Treasury, he d