Another argument much approved by philosophy is that nothing matters, because x hundred years hence, say, at the outside, we shall be deal. What we really want is " philosophy that will enable us to get along while we are still alive. Iam not worrying xbout. my centenary; Tam, worrying about next quarter-duy. I feel that if other people would only go away and leave ie—income-tax collectors, critics, men who come round about the' ga all those sort of people—I could be a philosopher myself. - Iam willing enough to make believe that nothing matters, but they aren't. They say itis going to be cut gud talk about judgment summonses, Ttell them it won't trouble any of us a hundred years hence. 'They answer they are not talking of hundred years hence, but of this thing that was due last April twelvemonths, 'They won't listen to my gwmon. He does not interest them. Nor, to be candid, does it comfort myself very much, this' philosophical reflection that a hundred years later on I'll be sure dead—that i+ with ordinary. luck.
What bucks me up much more is the hope thnt they will be dead.
osides, ina hundred years things may dead. IE I wore sure of being dead next have improved. I may not want to be
morning, before their threat of cutting off that water or that gas could by any oesibility. be carried' out, before. that judgment summons they are' bragging about could be made returnable, I might don't say I would—be amused, thinking how I was going to dish them.
The wife of a very wicked man.visited him one evening in prison, and found him enjoying a supper of toasted cheese. 'How foolish of you, Edward," argued the fond lady, to be' eating toasted cheose for supper. You know it alway liver. All day long to-morrow complaining." No, I shen't," interrupt ted Edward: not 60 foolish as you think me. They are going to hang me to-morrow, early."
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.