It is said that a man cannot serve both God and Mammon. However this may be,--and there are clever individuals who seem to fight under both banners,--it is certain that it takes genius for a man to do his duty equally well to his club and to his home. Percy-Bartlett was not a genius. He was a thorough gentleman, of fair ability, who had found himself inclined, at one time, to sacrifice his club for the sake of his home. But, other things being equal, a man, in the long run, will take the path in which he finds the readiest and most pronounced sympathy. Percy-Bartlett was appreciated at his true worth at his club. He realized vaguely that at his home he was in an atmosphere that was not wholly congenial, and that he did not hold the high place in the bosom of his family that assures to a husband the domestic felicity that is, in the end, fatal to prominence in club life. A companionable husband, like anything else worth having, is the product of assiduous cultivation. The converse is also true; and a man cannot enjoy the intercourse of a thoroughly congenial woman unless he has the tact and perseverance necessary to the production of this rare and priceless blossom of the social flora. Marriage is like a garden, in which two plants are set aside to tend each other. If one of them is neglectful of the task imposed upon it, they both suffer equally; and the garden in which they have been placed grows narrow and distasteful in their sight. If you grasp the full significance of this illustration, O gentle reader, you will be able to understand why it is that in these progressive times not only married men but married women have their clubs. We all crave sympathy, and an outlet for the unrest that is in us. If we cannot find them at home, we must go to our club, where we may meet some one who understands us, and who will offer us a relief-pipe for the pent-up individuality that so sorely chafes us. And thus it is that both men and women need their clubs to-day. The end of the last century found the world emphasizing the brotherhood of man. The end of the present century is busy underscoring the sisterhood of woman. Is it strange that the last years of the eighteenth century were not more disturbing to the institution of marriage than are the closing days of the nineteenth century? The only conclusion that seems deducible to the student of contemporary social unrest is that the millennium will not be reached until the problem of how to make a home a club is solved.