Believe me, dear Mr. Grayson, with warm regards,
Faithfully yours,
CHRISTOPHER MORLEY.
CHAPTER ONE
I wonder if there isn't a lot of bunkum in higher education?
I never found that people who were learned in logarithms and
other kinds of poetry were any quicker in washing dishes or
darning socks. I've done a good deal of reading when I could,
and I don't want to "admit impediments" to the love of books,
but I've also seen lots of good, practical folk spoiled by too
much fine print. Reading sonnets always gives me hiccups, too.
I never expected to be an author! But I do think there are
some amusing things about the story of Andrew and myself and
how books broke up our placid life. When John Gutenberg,
whose real name (so the Professor says) was John Gooseflesh,
borrowed that money to set up his printing press he launched
a lot of troubles on the world.
Andrew and I were wonderfully happy on the farm until he
became an author. If I could have foreseen all the bother his
writings were to cause us, I would certainly have burnt the
first manuscript in the kitchen stove.
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