Things do go so contrary-like with me. I wanted to hit upon an
especially novel, out-of-the-way subject for one of these articles.
"I will write one paper about something altogether new," I said to
myself; "something that nobody else has ever written or talked about
before; and then I can have it all my own way." And I went about for
days, trying to think of something of this kind; and I couldn't. And
Mrs. Cutting, our charwoman, came yesterday--I don't mind mentioning
her name, because I know she will not see this book. She would not
look at such a frivolous publication. She never reads anything but
the Bible and _Lloyd's Weekly News_. All other literature she
considers unnecessary and sinful.

She said: "Lor', sir, you do look worried."

I said: "Mrs. Cutting, I am trying to think of a subject the
discussion of which will come upon the world in the nature of a
startler--some subject upon which no previous human being has ever
said a word--some subject that will attract by its novelty, invigorate
by its surprising freshness."

She laughed and said I was a funny gentleman.

That's my luck again. When I make serious observations people
chuckle; when I attempt a joke nobody sees it. I had a beautiful one
last week. I thought it so good, and I worked it up and brought it in
artfully at a dinner-party. I forget how exactly, but we had been
talking about the attitude of Shakespeare toward the Reformation, and
I said something and immediately added, "Ah, that reminds me; such a
funny thing happened the other day in Whitechapel." "Oh," said they,