kind and loving and brave."

They told me this crippled woman was the sweetest-spirited,
best-loved person in the town.

But her mother petulantly interrupted me. She had wheeled the
cripple into the tent. She was tall and stately. She was
well-gowned. She lived in one of the finest homes in the city. She
had everything that money could buy. But her money seemed unable to
buy the frown from her face.

"Mr. Lecture Man," she said, "why is everybody interested in my
daughter and nobody interested in me? Why is my daughter happy and
why am I not happy? My daughter is always happy and she hasn't a
single thing to make her happy. I am not happy. I have not been
happy for years. Why am I not happy?"

What would you have said? Just on the spur of the moment--I said,
"Madam, I don't want to be unkind, but I really think the reason
you are not happy is that you haven't been bumped enough."

I discover when I am unhappy and selfish and people don't use me
right, I need another bump.

The cripple girl had traveled ahead of her jealous mother. For
selfishness cripples us more than paralysis.