anage I don't know. It isn't living at all. And when I see a
fellow like that, who ought to be worried to death all the time--and who
would be if he looked the facts squarely in the face--grinning and
telling stories like a minstrel, it makes me so d----d mad that I can't
see straight."

HER OWN

There are certain family privileges which we all guard jealously:

An attorney was consulted by a woman desirous of bringing action against
her husband for a divorce. She related a harrowing tale of the
ill-treatment she had received at his hands. So impressive was her
recital that the lawyer, for a moment, was startled out of his usual
professional composure. "From what you say this man must be a brute of
the worst type!" he exclaimed.

The applicant for divorce arose and, with severe dignity, announced:
"Sir, I shall consult another lawyer. I came here to get advice as to a
divorce, not to hear my husband abused!"

MARK TWAIN ON MILLIONAIRES

At one time in his varied career Mark Twain was not only poor, but he
did not make a practice of associating with millionaires. The paragraph
which follows is taken from an open letter to Commodore Vanderbilt. One
paragraph of the "Open Letter" is worth embalming here:

Poor Vanderbilt! How I pity you: and this is honest. You are an old man,
and ought to have some rest, and yet you have to struggle, and deny
yourself, and rob yourself of restful sleep and peace of mind, because
you need money so badly. I always feel for a man who is so poverty
ridden as you. Don't misunderstand me, Vanderbilt. I know you own
seventy millions: but then you know and I know that it isn't what man
has that constitutes wealth. No--it is to be satisfied with what one
has; that is wealth. As long as one sorely needs a certain additional
amount, that man isn't rich. Seventy times seventy millions can't make
him rich, as long as his poor heart is breaking for more. I am just
about rich enough to buy the least valuable horse in your stable,
perhaps, but I cannot sincerely and honestly take an oath that I need
any more now. And so I am rich. But you, you have got seventy millions
and you need five hundred millions, and are really suffering for it.
Your poverty is something appalling. I tell you truly that I do not
believe I could live twenty-four hours with the awful weight of four
hundred and thirty millions of abject want crushing down upon me. I
should die under it. My soul is so wrought upon by your