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he made me a present of a joke by Mark Twain—about an opera Twain had seen in Italy. Twain said that he hadn’t heard anything like it “… since the orphanage burned down.”
We argued that it was as good a scheme for misery as any, since its success in keeping the common people reasonably happy and proud depended on the strength of the people themselves—and yet it described no practical machinery which would tend to make the people, as opposed to their elected representatives, strong.
She would encounter relatives everywhere—if not Orioles, then at least birds or living things of some kind. They would feed her and point the way.
