Aurelia, during the latter part of my homily, was a little fidgetty. She explained the cause of it to me. She had accepted young Boosey's invitation to Trovatore on Monday night. I consoled her by reminding her that his whited sepulchre was perfectly harmless. She might pick off all the roses and honeysuckles without detriment. May 18, 1867. _NOTHING AND BABIES._ To write about Something is no extraordinary feat; to write about Nothing is a feat not so easily performed. I propose to write about Nothing, as I have Nothing to write. Any one can be Something in the world. It requires genius to be Nothing. There are a very few people who have succeeded in being Nothing. In order to be Nothing it is not necessary to know Nothing. In fact, it requires a great deal of knowledge to be Nothing. By assiduous effort for the past quarter of a century, more or less, I have thoroughly succeeded in being Nothing, and I am now quietly enjoying the _otium cum dignitate_ which appertains to that blessed condition, and can quietly philosophize on nullity under my fig-tree, lying flat on my back gazing at Nothing. You restless people who are Something can have no idea of the absolute ecstasy--an ecstasy more intoxicating than Hasheesh or Cannabis Indica, and not so brutal and vulgar as Opium--which results from being Nothing--with Nothing on your mind, Nothing in your pockets, Nothing to think of, Nothing to do. But I fancy old Scroggs, who has been doing Something all his life, and thereby has been a nuisance all his life, and Mrs. Scroggs, who is Chairwoman of the Society for the Regeneration of Fourth Avenue, and is more of a nuisance than old Scroggs--I fancy them saying that I am of no use in the world. Am I not? Suppose I think Nothing, then at least I think no evil of any one. Suppose I say Nothing good of any one, I say Nothing bad. If I have Nothing, I have no taxes to pay; no interest to collect; no houses to burn; nobody to gouge or harass, and nobody to gouge or harass me. Which is cheerful. If I am Nothing, no one cares for me, and equally I care for no one, so that no one and I are on good terms. Thus, you see, being Nothing, although I may accomplish no good in the world, I accomplish no evil. Every evil, every misery, every war, every misfortune, all the high taxes, all the poor operas, all the tough beefsteaks, all the sour Green Seal, all the fires, murders, explosions, and other such cheerful casualties, are the direct result of the efforts of these people who are Something. Then, from a theological point of view, remember that if we were all Nothings, the Devil would have Nothing to do, and would have to let his fires go down and hang up his pitchforks, which would be a blessed thing for some of these people who are Somethings.