ncomplete; as
there are doubtless many that I have not the shrewdness to recognize as
such.

The only humbugs are not those that work on our fears. There are humbugs
that work on our hopes. These have been likened to bubbles that dance on
the wave, burst, and are no more. They are too often like bomb-shells,
that in exploding scatter ruin on all around. They have also been named
air-castles, _chateaux en Espagne_, 'baseless fabrics of a vision.' The
baseless fabric of a vision is built of 'airy nothingness;' but men
found on a wish, structures that tower to heaven, put real, solid
material into them, and when they fall, as fall they must--I'll not
attempt to give an idea of the utter desolation they leave, of the
_waste place_ they make of the heart, lest you should think I have thus
humbugged myself; for _self-humbug_ it certainly is; and this is the
most intensely _human_. Not a fish, or reptile, bird, or beast; not a
thing crawling, swimming, flying, or walking, but the human creature,
humbugs himself. 'Man was made to mourn,' I would change into, Man was
made to be humbugged. It is better to be greatly gullible, than a
'cunning dog,' for gulled we will be. It is better to be caught at once,
than to have our gills torn by wriggling off the hook the twenty times,
to be caught at last. It is better to walk straight into the net than to
fatigue ourselves by coming to it in a roundabout way. A Nova-Scotian
once rallied a Down-Easter on the famous wooden hams. 'Yaas,' was the
reply, 'and they say that one of you actilly _ate_ one and didn't know
the difference.' Well, it is better to swallow our humbugs, as the
Nova-Scotian did the Connecticut-cured ham, without detecting any thing
peculiar in their flavor, than it is to find our mistake at the first
cut or _saw_. By the way, saltpeter is so needed for other purposes,
that probably the _Virginia cured_ will not now have as fine a flavor as
formerly.

But, _in the way_: You dissent from some of these remarks? You've cut
your eye-teeth, have you? Possibly you forget that trip in the cars,
when you 'cutely passed by the swell in flashy waistcoat and galvanized
jewelry, and took a seat by a 'plain blunt man' in snuff-color; and
after he had left the cars at the first station, and the conductor came
to you and demanded, 'Your ticket, sir!' you probably forgot how in
fumbling for it in your pocket, you found it, but _not_ your
porte-monnaie. You perhaps set down in your menta