THE TYRANNY OF TRIFLESIt is the little things of life that harry us, torment us and get us down, making us old before our time, and I wish there was something we could do about it! This is a problem on which there is no governmental booklet.
Now, here am I in the place I have always wanted to be—on a farm, near a city, within sight of the sea, (with my onions planted in a "warm rich soil on a sunny hillside, with natural drainage") and with a large percentage of the things I have always craved, including glass knobs on every door in the house, and a peach tree fastened to the south wall.
And yet my soul is downcast and oppressed, and the beauty of Gordon Head at this moment seems powerless to scatter my gloom.
We can't find the uprights for my bureau! They seem to have been lost in the
