Everything, he said, was arranged and formed wisely and in the best possible manner, but in one respect nature fared badly in the presence of adepts.
"Do you know where the error is, ladies and gentlemen ?" he asked.
"In the purse," cried a merry barber's clerk, "it grows prematurely thin every day." "Right, my son," answered the quack graciously.

"But nature also provides it with the great door from which your answer has come.

Your teeth are a bungling piece of workmanship.

They appear with pain, decay with time, and so long as they last torture those who do not industriously attend to them.

But art will correct nature.