“Then, too,” resumed the visitor in a meek tone, “I hear that you patronize theaters, and have even been to the opera; that you permit your family to spend large sums on trivial entertainments and personal adornment; that the amount you wasted on dinners last winter would have repaired the alms-house; that you never visit the hospitals and jails; that if you keep on in this selfish and wasteful course you are likely to become a nuisance to the neighborhood and a burden on the public; that”—— The rich man found his voice in a roar: “You audacious scoundrel! Get out of this, or I’ll kill you. How dare you come here and lecture me in my own house?” And overcome by wrath he fell into an arm chair and hissed. “It’s strange that it doesn’t work both ways,” continued the meek one, reflectively, “Your wife and daughter called on me yesterday in the interests of the East Side Charitable Interference Society, of which you are president. They made me see the error of my course, and I was actuated only by a hope of accomplishing your moral improvement by coming here. For is not wine worse than beer? Are not perfectos more injurious to the health than pipes? Is not poker more expensive than pinocle? Is not your club more luxurious than the Peter H. Milligan Association, of which I used to be floor manager? Isn’t it as bad for you to go to theaters and stay away from prayers as it is for me? Oh, brother, let me plead with you to have more faith—to exercise more the gifts of the spirit. Let me”—— At this point the millionaire struggled out of an impending fit of apoplexy and threw a chair at the meek man, who escaped. And the East Side Charitable Interference Society never called on him again. It gave him up as a hopeless case. CHARLES M. SKINNER. A QUESTION OF FORM. “LET ME NOT MUCH COMPLAIN.” Let me not much complain of life, in age; Life is not faulty, life is well enough, For those who love their daily round of doing, And take things rounded, never in the rough, Turning from day to day the same old page, And their old knowledge ever more renewing. I have known many such; through life they went With moderate use of moderate heritage, Giving and spending, saving as they spent, These are wise men, though never counted sage; They looked for little, easy men to please; But I, more deeply drunk of life’s full cup, Feel, as my lips come nearer to the lees, I dived for pearls, and brought but pebbles up. —Thomas William Parsons, in the _Century_. By title the above lines commend themselves as “well enough” wisdom, yet will I “much complain” of them. Here are fourteen lines.