up my small injury, and I went out again into the Strand. I felt upon
me even a kind of unnatural youth; I hungered for something untried.
So to open a new chapter in my life I got into a hansom cab.


VII

The Advantages of Having One Leg

A friend of mine who was visiting a poor woman in bereavement
and casting about for some phrase of consolation that should
not be either insolent or weak, said at last, "I think one can
live through these great sorrows and even be the better.
What wears one is the little worries." "That's quite right, mum,"
answered the old woman with emphasis, "and I ought to know,
seeing I've had ten of 'em." It is, perhaps, in this sense
that it is most true that little worries are most wearing.
In its vaguer significance the phrase, though it contains a truth,
contains also some possibilities of self-deception and error.
People who have both small troubles and big ones have the
right to say that they find the small ones the most bitter;
and it is undoubtedly true that the back which is bowed under
loads incredible can feel a faint addition to those loads;
a giant holding up the earth and all its animal creation might
still find the grasshopper a burden. But I am afraid that the
maxim that the smallest worries are the worst is sometimes used
or abused by people, because they have nothing but the very
smallest worries. The lady may excuse herself for reviling the
crumpled rose leaf by reflecting with what extraordinary dignity
she would wear the crown of thorns--if she had to. The gentleman