COMPANY AND SOLIfUDE 

 I. 



"COMPANY." 



WHEN I was a child, there was no 

 word in our language more ex- 

 pressive to me of all that was mildly terri- 

 ble than " company." It meant unreason- 

 able restraint, and the necessity of spotless 

 clothing, a painfully stiff collar, and clean 

 hands, everything, in fal, that a small boy 

 of average health and spirits naturally de- 

 tests. Then, too, there was the showing 

 off of infantile accomplishments, and a gen- 

 eral disarrangement of every childish idea of 

 comfort. I learned at five to detest " com- 

 pany," and at fifty I have not outgrown the 

 impressions then acquired. I do not like 

 company. Not that I am afraid of strangers, 

 nor that, being a householder, I am inhospi- 

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