earth and other celestial
bodies." "Not at all," you say; "the earth is made up largely of chalk,
and what is the difference between chalk and cheese, except in the
price?" "But, if it's green cheese the moon is made of," asks your
opponent, "why does it look yellow?" "Only the natural effect of
atmospheric refraction," you reply calmly; "remember how a politician's
badly soiled reputation will shine out a brilliant white, through the
favourable atmosphere that surrounds a Congressional investigating
committee. Recall how a lady who is green with envy at her neighbour's
new hat will turn pink with delight when the two meet in the street and
kiss. Recall how the same lady's complexion of roses and milk will
assume its natural yellow under the candid dissection of her dearest
friends." Your opponent might go on marshalling his objections forever,
and you would have no difficulty in knocking them on the head.

So I used to believe. But if the method breaks down in the case of Mars
and its canals, it breaks down everywhere else. If there are no canals
on Mars, what about the blessings of the tariff, which are based on
exactly the same kind of reasoning? What about the efficacy of mental
healing? What about the advantages of giving up coffee? What about the
impending invasion of California by the Japanese? What about the
Kaiser's qualifications as an art critic? What about the restraining
influence of publicity on corporations? What about the connection
between easy divorce and the higher life? What about the divine right of
railroad presidents? What about the theatrical manager's passion for a
purified stage? What about the value of all anti-fat medicines? All of
these things have been shown to be true by assuming that they are true.
If the canals on Mars go, all these have to go. And that makes me almost
as sad as the fact that I shall have nothing to talk about with my
favourite waiter.

XIX

THE COMPLETE COLLECTOR--II

"The idea of this exquisite little collection of frauds and forgeries,"
said Cooper, "--and I don't believe I am boasting when I speak of my few
treasures as exquisite--came to me in a natural enough way. One of the
bitterest trials the connoisseur has to contend with, is the
consciousness that no amount of care and expense can guarantee him an
absolutely flawless collection. The suspicion of the experts has fallen
upon not a single picture, brass, marble or iron in his galleries; and
yet as h