ney and title to the motives
that get the money and the title. It is not the money and title we should
distrust so much as the false implications attaching to them.

And, after all, we exaggerate the importance of the material rewards. They
must often be very much of a bore. As the late Lord Salisbury once said, a
man doesn't sleep any better because he has a choice of forty bedrooms in
his house. He can only take one ride even though he has fifty motor-cars.
He cannot get more joy out of the sunshine than you or I can. The birds
sing and the buds swell for all of us, and in the great storehouse of
natural delights there is no money taken and no price on the goods. Mr.
Rockefeller's L100 a minute (if that is his income) is poor consolation for
his bad digestion, and the late Mr. Pierpoint Morgan would probably have
parted with half his millions to get rid of the excrescence that made his
nose an unsightly joke. We cannot count our riches at the bank--even on the
material side, much less on the spiritual. As I came along the village this
morning I saw Jim Squire digging up his potatoes in the golden September
light. I hailed him, and inquired how the crop was turning out. "A
wunnerful fine crop," he said, "and thank the Lord, there ain't a spot o'
disease in 'em." And as he straightened his back, pointed to the tubers
strewn about him, and beamed like the sun at his good fortune, he looked
the very picture of autumn's riches.

ON TASTE

I was in a feminine company the other day when the talk turned on war
economies, with the inevitable allusion to the substitution of margarine
for butter. I found it was generally agreed that the substitution had been
a success. "Well," said one, "I bought some butter the other day--the sort
we used to use--and put it on the table with the margarine which we have
learned to eat. My husband took some, thinking it was margarine, made a wry
face, and said, 'It won't do. This margarine economy is beyond me. We must
return to butter, even if we lose the war.' I explained to him that he was
eating butter, _the_ butter, and he said, 'Well, I'm hanged!' Now, what do
you think of that?"

I said I thought it showed that taste was a matter of habit, and that
imagination played a larger part in our make-up than we supposed. We say of
this or that thing that it is "an acquired taste," as though the fact was
unusual, whereas the fact would seem to be that we dislike most things
until we have