heavens weep at such inopportune moments too. There is sure to be some
large picnic, some delightful gathering on the "tapis," when they
choose to exhibit their griefs. And they never notice how unwelcome
such a display of feelings is, but go on weeping, weeping, weeping all
day long, until at last you catch the malady yourself, and are obliged
perforce to mingle a few of your own tears with theirs.

No, there is simply nothing to be done, and Satan has quite a
difficulty to find enough work for all the idle hands. Some can be
perfectly happy in spending all their time in solving the intricacies
of those many wonderful puzzles which have appeared lately as a sort
of antidote to the mischief generally supposed to be perpetrated by
the aforesaid gentleman. Unfortunately, an entirely contrary effect is
produced on me. They did not look far enough ahead when they made me.
They could not conceive the wonderful minds of this time, and so did
not endow me with a sufficient quantity of patience. If they could
have imagined those marvelous little tin saucers, with shot running in
and out of horse-shoes, &c., with _me_ in the perspective, well, I
think they would have gone about their work more carefully, and
perhaps brought about a happier result. As it is, the puzzles are
always swept away now at my approach. I have smashed so many.

It is base ingratitude, too, on my part, to bring them to so speedy an
end; for what I owe to those dear little things I am powerless to
express. Those entertaining people who sit speechless, and only answer
yes and no with an eternal smile on their faces: give them a puzzle.
There is no further effort to amuse them required on your part. They
are at once absorbed in "shot." Their only idea is to successfully get
them into their places. They never do; but being good thorough-going
characters will never give up the attempt.