No, No; Women, Old Or Young, Should

Money Is Time. With Money I Buy For Cheerful Use The Hours Which Otherwise Would Not In Any Sense Be Mine; Nay, Which Would Make Me Their Miserable Bondsman.

Money Is Made At Christmas Out Of Holly And Mistletoe, But Who Save The Vendors Would Greatly Care If No Green Branch Were Procurable? One Symbol, Indeed, Has Obscured All Others-the Minted Round Of Metal. And One May Safely Say That, Of All The Ages Since A Coin First Became The Symbol Of Power, Ours Is That In Which It Yields To The Majority Of Its Possessors The Poorest Return In Heart's Contentment.

Money Is Made At Christmas Out Of Holly And Mistletoe, But Who Save The Vendors Would Greatly Care If No Green Branch Were Procurable?

Flippancy, The Most Hopeless Form Of Intellectual Vice.

And Why Should Any Man Who Writes, Even If He Writes Things Immortal, Nurse Anger At The World's Neglect? Who Asked Him To Publish? Who Promised Him A Hearing? Who Has Broken Faith With Him? Your Poem, Your Novel, Who Bargained With You For It?