bothered with anything. I remember the words with which one of these
ladies announced her departure from her bothering home.

"Oh, well, I'm tired of trouble," she confided to another lady, "so
I've made up my mind not to have any more of it."

Artemus Ward tells us of a man who had been in prison for twenty
years. Suddenly a bright idea occurred to him; he opened the window
and got out. Here have we poor, foolish mortals been imprisoned in
this troublesome world for Lord knows how many millions of years. We
have got so used to trouble we thought there was no help for it. We
have told ourselves that "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly
upwards." We imagined the only thing to be done was to bear it
philosophically. Why did not this bright young creature come along
before--show us the way out. All we had to do was to give up the
bothering home and the bothering servants, and go into a "Mansion" or
a "Court."

It seems that you leave trouble outside--in charge of the hall-
porter, one supposes. He ties it up for you as the Commissionaire of
the Army and Navy Stores ties up your dog. If you want it again, you
ask for it as you come out. Small wonder that the "Court" and
"Mansion" are growing in popularity every day.

[That "Higher Life."]

They have nothing to do now all day long, these soaring wives of whom
I am speaking. They would scorn to sew on a shirt-button even. Are
there not other women--of an inferior breed--specially fashioned by
Providence for the doing of such slavish tasks? They have no more