I shall go to the next thing of the sort which any one suggests.

I am like the hypochondriac with his list of patent medicines.

I try them all, but my heart still aches." "I think," he admitted, "that _au fond_ I have, like most men, a strong leaven of materialism in me.

I have had my disappointments in life.

I want my compensations here, in the same world where I have suffered." "Why should we not try to believe, like La Fontaine," she questioned, "that sorrow and unhappiness are akin to disease, a mental instead of a physical scourge--that it must pass just as inevitably ?" "It is a comfortable philosophy," he confessed.