Old age becomes more of a problem when living in it than when viewed afar off. It is a question of economics and ethics more than of wrinkles. It is so easy not to mind it when well, rich and beloved; it is so impossible not to object to it when sick, poor and unwelcome. It creeps into almost every home and, though we try to alleviate it and succeed to a certain extent, through affection, cookery and cleanliness, the vast majority of the world does not know how to manage to live on almost nothing, and yet it is upon those of small or of no means that the support of old age presses most heavily. So love only is left, and too often not even that. Then one wonders if one ought to refuse marriage and devote one's self to one's parents;--or, if married and children are many, and food and lodgings scant, shall one also house one's aged parents? If the ethics thereof are difficult to settle when money and space are available, it is a hideous task for decision when both are lacking. Nowhere does the attempted settlement to remove the stigma of pauperism from the aged through legislation threaten to be more puzzling than in England, where after January 1, 1911, a workhouse inmate of above seventy years and "fairly respectable" is entitled to leave the house and receive in lieu of its shelter five shillings a week. Is acceptance of such pension outside of a workhouse more honorable than being dependent on Government for support inside the workhouse? That is the question the Old Age pensioners of England are trying to solve. Who is going to house, feed and clothe them for five shillings a week? What does that amount to, set against the care of an infirm, old, undesired relative who is not wanted either for his keep or his affection, and who will only grow older? Even as a boarder of no kin whatever to his landlady, is he likely to be as comfortable as in the workhouse? Startling have been some of the discoveries that have followed upon this apparently beneficent legislation.