at even the eye of the needle may expand to
admit the camel who has dropped enough of his precious burden upon their
premises.

If wealth cannot always give health, it can help to preserve it; it is
the best of physicians.

There is nothing so becoming as property. "Handsome is who handsome
has," is the accepted modern version of the old saw.

If a rich man does not pass for sensible and good, it is his own fault.
Wisdom can be bought, generally at low prices; and virtue is always
assumed to be an attribute of Fortune except in moral didactic
treatises. A cubic ounce of gold can be beaten to cover fourteen hundred
and sixty-six square feet; and a skilful capitalist can make it hide
quite as large an area of meanness.

What weight an income adds to a man's sayings and doings! Your lucky
broker, who has just turned a corner in stocks with a fortune, thinks
Two Shillings has no right to an opinion when Half a Dollar is in the
room. Although a man with a threadbare coat may say anything now-a-days,
in spite of the Roman satirist, he can get no one to listen to him. Even
genuine wit, like a good picture, shows better in a gilt frame with the
varnish of success upon it.

It is not surprising that young men want money, and much of it, and
quickly.

There is another stumbling-block in the path of steady work. Politically
our progress in democracy is complete; but socially we hang back. The
aristocracies of Europe despised trade; with us trade is an aristocracy
that looks down upon manual labor,--an aristocracy with its gradations
of rank and of titles, from merchant-prince to pedler. All who buy and
sell consider themselves as belonging to the peerage of business. And as
the _petite noblesse_ of France liked to take a better title and gayer
armorials than belonged to them, so our lesser nobility and gentry are
fond of using a brevet business-title considerably above the position
they really fill. They are ashamed of the old English words that have
designated their callings for centuries. We all know that shops and
shopkeepers are not to be found in the United States. Even
thread-and-needle establishments and apple-stands are stores. Within
sight of where I write, a maker of false calves, and other cotton or
sawdust contrivances to supply the padding which careless Nature often
forgets to furnish, calls his workshop a studio. If I were to use the
word "slops" in a "ready-made clothing depot," the Sir Piercie Shafton
who