CHAPTER II.
Philosophy and the Daemon.
Philosophy, it has been said, is the art of bearing other people's troubles.

The truest philosopher I ever heard of was a woman.

She was brought into the London Hospital suffering from a poisoned leg.

The house surgeon made a hurried examination.

He was a man of blunt speech.
"It will have to come off," he told her.
"What, not all of it ?" "The whole of it, I am sorry to say," growled the house surgeon.
"Nothing else for it ?" "No other chance for you whatever," explained the house surgeon.
"Ah, well, thank Gawd it's not my 'ead," observed the lady.
The poor have a great advantage over us better-off folk.