girls put a slab up over him, which says:

"Prince of the house of Clay
Who saved our mother's life,
Lies here in peace, and lives
In grateful memory in our hearts."

There was a silence, in which each man's mind went back to the one
overwhelming thought--that bound them so close together.

Then the young doctor said slowly: "If what you say is true, I envy
Prince--and would gladly change places with him."

The old man recovered himself in a moment: "You take things too
seriously, Clay," he said quickly: "be glad you are not married. A
wife and children clutter up a man's affairs at a time like this--you
are quite free from family ties, I believe?"

"Quite free," the young man replied, "all my relatives live in the
East, all able to look after themselves. I have no person depending on
me--financially, I mean."

"Marriage," began the old doctor, in his most professional tone, as
one who reads from a manuscript, "is one-fourth joy and three-fourths
disappointment. There is no love strong enough to stand the grind of
domestic life. Marriage would be highly successful were it not for the
fearful bore of living together. Two houses, and a complete set of
servants would make marriage practically free from disappointments.
I think Saint Paul was right when he advised men to remain single if
they had serious work to do. Women, the best of them, grow tiresome