thoughts; bigotry; vanity; all lying stagnant. So why not drag out and sort all that stuff, discarding all which is of no valuation? About half of us will find, in our minds, a room, having on its door a card, saying: “It Was Not So In My Day.” Go at that room, right off. That “My Day” is long past. “Today” is boss, now. If that “My Day” could crawl up on “Today,” what a mix-up in World affairs would occur! Ox cart against aircraft; oil lamps against arc lights! Slow, mail information against radio! But, as all this stuff is laid out, what will you do with it? Nobody wants it. So I say, burn it, and tomorrow morning, how happy you will find that musty old mind!”
But His Honor’s mansion finally got back to normal as clouds of dust and swats and slaps from dusting cloths had shown Lady Gadsby and Kathlyn that “that parlor was simply awful” though Gadsby, Julius and Bill always had thought that “It looks all right,” causing Kathlyn to say:—
“A man thinks all dust stays outdoors.”
Though marrying off a girl in church is a big proposition, it can’t discount, in important data, doing a similar act in a parlor; for, as a parlor is a mighty small room in comparison with a church, you can’t point to an inch of it that won’t do its small part on such an occasion; so a woman will
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