Certain Personal Matters 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Certain Personal Matters, by H. G. 
Wells This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with 
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Title: Certain Personal Matters 
Author: H. G. Wells 
Release Date: January 12, 2006 [EBook #17508] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CERTAIN 
PERSONAL MATTERS *** 
 
Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading 
Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
CERTAIN PERSONAL MATTERS 
BY 
H.G. WELLS
LONDON T. FISHER UNWIN PATERNOSTER SQUARE, E.C. 
1901 
 
CONTENTS 
PAGE 
THOUGHTS ON CHEAPNESS AND MY AUNT CHARLOTTE 7 
THE TROUBLE OF LIFE 12 
ON THE CHOICE OF A WIFE 18 
THE HOUSE OF DI SORNO 22 
OF CONVERSATION 27 
IN A LITERARY HOUSEHOLD 32 
ON SCHOOLING AND THE PHASES OF MR. SANDSOME 36 
THE POET AND THE EMPORIUM 40 
THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 45 
THE LITERARY REGIMEN 49 
HOUSE-HUNTING AS AN OUTDOOR AMUSEMENT 54 
OF BLADES AND BLADERY 59 
OF CLEVERNESS 63 
THE POSE NOVEL 67 
THE VETERAN CRICKETER 71
CONCERNING A CERTAIN LADY 76 
THE SHOPMAN 80 
THE BOOK OF CURSES 85 
DUNSTONE'S DEAR LADY 90 
EUPHEMIA'S NEW ENTERTAINMENT (this is illustrated) 94 
FOR FREEDOM OF SPELLING 98 
INCIDENTAL THOUGHTS ON A BALD HEAD 104 
OF A BOOK UNWRITTEN 108 
THE EXTINCTION OF MAN 115 
THE WRITING OF ESSAYS 120 
THE PARKES MUSEUM 124 
BLEAK MARCH IN EPPING FOREST 128 
THE THEORY OF QUOTATION 132 
ON THE ART OF STAYING AT THE SEASIDE 135 
CONCERNING CHESS 140 
THE COAL-SCUTTLE 145 
BAGARROW 150 
THE BOOK OF ESSAYS DEDICATORY 155 
THROUGH A MICROSCOPE 159 
THE PLEASURE OF QUARRELLING 164
THE AMATEUR NATURE-LOVER 169 
FROM AN OBSERVATORY 174 
THE MODE IN MONUMENTS 177 
HOW I DIED 182 
 
CERTAIN PERSONAL MATTERS 
 
THOUGHTS ON CHEAPNESS AND MY AUNT CHARLOTTE 
The world mends. In my younger days people believed in mahogany; 
some of my readers will remember it--a heavy, shining substance, 
having a singularly close resemblance to raw liver, exceedingly heavy 
to move, and esteemed on one or other count the noblest of all woods. 
Such of us as were very poor and had no mahogany pretended to have 
mahogany; and the proper hepatite tint was got by veneering. That 
makes one incline to think it was the colour that pleased people. In 
those days there was a word "trashy," now almost lost to the world. My 
dear Aunt Charlotte used that epithet when, in her feminine way, she 
swore at people she did not like. "Trashy" and "paltry" and 
"Brummagem" was the very worst she could say of them. And she had, 
I remember, an intense aversion to plated goods and bronze halfpence. 
The halfpence of her youth had been vast and corpulent red-brown 
discs, which it was folly to speak of as small change. They were fine 
handsome coins, and almost as inconvenient as crown-pieces. I 
remember she corrected me once when I was very young. "Don't call a 
penny a copper, dear," she said; "copper is a metal. The pennies they 
have nowadays are bronze." It is odd how our childish impressions 
cling to us. I still regard bronze as a kind of upstart intruder, a mere 
trashy pretender among metals. 
All my Aunt Charlotte's furniture was thoroughly good, and most of it 
extremely uncomfortable; there was not a thing for a little boy to break
and escape damnation in the household. Her china was the only thing 
with a touch of beauty in it--at least I remember nothing else--and each 
of her blessed plates was worth the happiness of a mortal for days 
together. And they dressed me in a Nessus suit of valuable garments. I 
learned the value of thoroughly good things only too early. I knew the 
equivalent of a teacup to the very last scowl, and I have hated good, 
handsome property ever since. For my part I love cheap things, trashy 
things, things made of the commonest rubbish that money can possibly 
buy; things as vulgar as primroses, and as transitory as a morning's 
frost. 
Think of all the advantages of a cheap possession--cheap and nasty, if 
you will--compared with some valuable substitute. Suppose you need 
this or that. "Get a good one," advises Aunt Charlotte; "one that will 
last." You do--and it does last. It lasts like a family curse. These great 
plain valuable things, as plain as good women, as complacently assured 
of their intrinsic worth--who does not know them? My Aunt Charlotte 
scarcely had a new thing in her life. Her mahogany was avuncular; her 
china remotely ancestral; her feather beds and her bedsteads!--they 
were haunted; the births, marriages, and deaths associated with    
    
		
	
	
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