Chapter I: Concerning One’s Letter Box

Publish any sort of conviction related to these morose days through

which we are living and letters will shower upon you like leaves in

October. No matter what your conviction be, it will shake both yeas and

nays loose from various minds where they were hanging ready to fall.

Never was a time when so many brains rustled with hates and panaceas

that would sail wide into the air at the lightest jar. Try it and see.

Say that you believe in God, or do not; say that Democracy is the key

to the millennium, or the survival of the unfittest; that Labor is

worse than the Kaiser, or better; that drink is a demon, or that wine

ministers to the health and the cheer of man--say what you please, and

the yeas and nays will pelt you. So insecurely do the plainest, oldest

truths dangle in a mob of disheveled brains, that it is likely, did you

assert twice two continues to equal four and we had best stick to

the multiplication table, anonymous letters would come to you full of

passionate abuse. Thinking comes hard to all of us. To some it never

comes at all, because their heads lack the machinery. How many of such

are there among us, and how can we find them out before they do us harm?

Science has a test for this. It has been applied to the army recruit,

but to the civilian voter not yet. The voting moron still runs amuck in

our Democracy. Our native American air is infected with alien breath. It

is so thick with opinions that the light is obscured. Will the sane ones

eventually prevail and heal the sick atmosphere? We must at least assume

so. Else, how could we go on?

A Straight Deal; Or, The Ancient Grudge · 第 1 / 19 章