I lay concealed inside,
but I gathered from the sounds that this was what was
happening. We came to a stop; I heard a growing murmur of
voices and laughter outside, and then the click of the raised
sides of the wagon. I heard Mifflin's shrill, slightly nasal
voice making facetious remarks as he passed out the cards.
Evidently Bock was quite accustomed to the routine, for though
his tail wagged gently when the Professor began to talk, he
lay quite peaceably dozing at my feet.
"My friends," said Mr. Mifflin. "You remember Abe Lincoln's
joke about the dog? If you call a tail a leg, said Abe, how
many legs has a dog? Five, you answer. No, says Abe; because
calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a leg. Well, there are
lots of us in the same case as that dog's tail. Calling us
men doesn't _make_ us men. No creature on earth has a right to
think himself a human being if he doesn't know at least one
good book. The man that spends every evening chewing Piper
Heidsieck at the store is unworthy to catch the intimations of
a benevolent Creator. The man that's got a few good books on
his shelf is making his wife happy, giving his children a
square deal, and he's likely to be a better citizen himself.
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