You see, my idea is
that the common people--in the country, that is--never have
had any chance to get hold of books, and never have had any
one to explain what books can mean. It's all right for
college presidents to draw up their five-foot shelves of great
literature, and for the publishers to advertise sets of their
Linoleum Classics, but what the people need is the good,
homely, honest stuff--something that'll stick to their
ribs--make them laugh and tremble and feel sick to think of
the littleness of this popcorn ball spinning in space without
ever even getting a hot-box! And something that'll spur 'em
on to keep the hearth well swept and the wood pile split into
kindling and the dishes washed and dried and put away. Any
one who can get the country people to read something worth
while is doing his nation a real service. And that's what}
this caravan of culture aspires to.... You must be weary of
this harangue! Does the Sage of Redfield ever run on like that?"
"Not to me," I said. "He's known me so long that he thinks of
me as a kind of animated bread-baking and cake-mixing machine.
I guess he doesn't put much stock in my judgment in literary
matters. But he puts his digestion in my hands without
reserve.
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