The Hominy House looked clean and
old-fashioned, and the name amused me, so in I went. It was
a kind of high-class boarding-house, with mostly old women
around. It looked to me almost literary and Elbert Hubbardish
compared to the Grand Central in Shelby. The folks there
stared at me somewhat suspiciously and I half thought they
were going to say they didn't take pedlars; but when I flashed
a new five-dollar bill at the desk I got good service. A
five-dollar bill is a patent of nobility in New England.
My! how I enjoyed that creamed chicken on toast, and
buckwheat cakes with syrup! After you get used to cooking all
your own grub, a meal off some one else's stove is the finest
kind of treat. After supper I was all prepared to sit out on
the porch with my sweater on and give a rocking chair a hot
box, but then I remembered that it was up to me to carry on
the traditions of Parnassus. I was there to spread the gospel
of good books. I got to thinking how the Professor never
shirked carrying on his campaign, and I determined that I
would be worthy of the cause.
When I think back about the experience, it seems pretty crazy,
but at the time I was filled with a kind of evangelistic zeal.
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