Where was I? Oh, speaking of invalids! Sickness is to be dreaded with
many because of death, but from the high moral plane from which I
regard it, it is chiefly objectionable on account of the lying it gives
rise to. Directly a man gets well on the way down hill, the good natured
world gets this lie photographed, and each man presents him a
copy--"Why, I never saw you looking better in my life!" For the first
few copies that are presented him the poor devil is grateful; of the
next few he is suspicious, and thereafter he is worried, vexed and
profane. If you remonstrate against the truth of the assurance and
call attention to the prominent skeleton which you are presenting to
the public eye, the good natured liar looks you unflinchingly in the
eye while he presents you with another lithograph bearing this
inscription: "Oh, I didn't mean that you were fatter, I meant that
your skin is clearer and your eyes are brighter." Not having a sample
of your former skin, nor another pair of eyes handy to confute him
with, this well-meaning liar walks off triumphantly. I, myself, however,
am no better than the rest of them, though my presenting the lithograph
cost me dearly one day. In one of the towns where I stopped, a young
girl came to the hotel the shadow of what she had been.
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