says it's all right, that everybody does it, and wants to know how it
can be helped; and, as I don't want to argue the matter, I look amen.'
That's the way Mr. Croesus submits to his new house, Mrs. Potiphar."

She doesn't understand it. Poor child! how should she? She, and
Mrs. Croesus, and Mrs. Gnu, and even Mrs. Settum Downe, are all as
nomadic as Bedouin Arabs. The Rev. Cream Cheese says, that he sees in
this constant migration from one house to another, a striking
resemblance to the "tents of a night," spoken of in Scripture. He
imparts this religious consolation to me when I grumble. He says, that
it prevents a too-closely clinging affection to temporary abodes. One
day, at dinner, that audacious wag, Boosey, asked him if the "many
manthuns" mentioned in the Bible, were not as true of mortal as of
immortal life. Mrs. Potiphar grew purple, and Mr. Cheese looked at
Boosey in the most serious manner over the top of his champagne-glass.
I am glad to say that Polly has properly rebuked Gauche Boosey for his
irreligion, by not asking him to her Saturday evening _matinees
dansantes_.

There was no escape from the house, however. It must be built. It was
not only Mrs. Potiphar that persisted, but the spirit of the age and
of the country. One can't live among shops. When Pearl street comes to
Park Place, Park Place must run for its life up to Thirtieth street. I
know it can't be helped, but I protested, and I will protest. If I've
got to go, I'll have my grumble. My wife says:

"I'm ashamed of you, Potiphar. Do you pretend to be an American, and
not give way willingly to the march of improvement? You had better
talk with Mr. Cream Cheese upon the 'genius of the country.' You are
really unpatriotic, you show nothing of the enterprising spirit of