I could go on for hours about this starting out of Nancy and Frank, but
many civic affairs await us; for Julius Gadsby who has not got into
this story up to now, had, from his constant poring through all kinds
of books of information, built up a thorough insight into fossils;
and you know that Kathlyn is way up in Biology; which brings in our
awkward "bugs" again. Now bugs will burrow in soil, and always did,
from History's birth; building catacombs which at last vanish through a
piling up of rocks, sand or soil on that spot. Now Julius continually
ran across accounts of important "finds" of such fossils, and with
Kathlyn's aid was soon inaugurating popular clamor for a big Hall of
Natural History.
This, Julius and Kathlyn thought, would turn out as popular, in a way,
as living animals out at our Zoo. But an appropriation for a Hall
of Natural History is a hard thing to jam through a City Council;
for though its occupants call for no food, you can't maintain such
a building without human custody; "which," said Old Bill Simpkins,
"is but a tricky way of saying CASH!!" But our Council was by now so
familiar with calls from that famous "Organization", and, owing to
its inborn faith in that grand body of hustling Youth, such a building
was built; Julius and Kathlyn arranging all displays of fossil birds,
plants, "bugs," footprints, raindrop marks, worms, skulls, parts of
jaws, and so on. And what a crowd was on hand for that first public
day! Julius and Kathlyn took visitors through various rooms, giving
much data upon what was shown; and many a Branton Hills inhabitant
found out a lot of facts about our vast past; about organisms living
so far back in oblivion as to balk Man's brain to grasp. Kathlyn stood
amongst groups of botanical fossilizations, with Gadsby not far away,
as this studious young woman told school pupils how our common plants
of today through various transitions in form, show a kinship with
what now lay, in miraculously good condition, in this big Hall; and
Julius told staring groups how this or that fossil did actually link
such animals as our cow or walrus of today with original forms totally
apart, both in looks and habits. And it was comforting to Gadsby to
find pupils asking how long ago this was, and noting that amazing look
as Julius had to say that nobody knows.
Such a building is an addition to any city; for this big World is so
old that human calculation cannot fathom it; and it will, in all
probability, go on always. So it is improving a child's mind to visit
such displays; for it will start a train of thoughts along a path not
commonly sought if such institutions do not stand as attractions. Now,
in any community a crank will bob up, who will, with loud acclaim and
high-sounding words, avow that it "is a scandalous drain on public
funds to put up such a building just to show a lot of rocks, animals'
ribs and birds' skulls." But such loud bombasts only show up an
"orator's" brain capacity (or lack of it), and actually bring studious
folks to ask for just such data upon things which his ridiculing had
run down. It is an old, old story, that if you want a city's population
to go in strongly for anything, and you start a loud, bawling campaign
against it, that public will turn to it for information as to its
worth. So, just such a loud, bawling moron had to drift into our Hall
on its inauguration day, and soon ran smack up against Kathlyn! That
worthy girl, allowing him to "blow off" a bit, finally said:--
"I know you. You run a stock farm. All right. You want to know all you
can about matching and crossing your stock, don't you? I thought so.
But God did all that, long, oh, _so_ long ago; gradually producing such
animals as you own today; and all you can do is to follow along, in
your puny way, and try to avoid a poor quality of stock mixing with
yours. This building contains thousands of God's first works. It won't
do you a bit of harm to look through our rooms. Nothing will jump out
at you!"
At that that barking critic shut up! And Gadsby slid outdoors,
chuckling:--
"That's _my_ girl talking!! That's my Kathlyn!!"
It is curious why anybody should pooh-pooh a study of fossils or
various forms of rocks or lava. Such things grant us our only vision
into Natural History's big book; and it isn't a book in first-class
condition. Far from it! Just a tiny scrap; a slip; or, possibly a
big chunk is found, with nothing notifying us as to how it _got_ to
that particular point, nor how long ago. Man can only look at it,
lift it, rap it, cut into it, and squint at it through a magnifying
glass. And,--_think_ about it. That's all; until a formal study brings
accompanying thoughts from many minds; and, by such tactics, judging
that in all probability such and such a rock or fossil footprint is
about so old. Natural History holds you in its grasp through just this
impossibility of finding actual facts; for it is thus causing you to
_think_. Now, thinking is not only a voluntary function; it is an
_acquisition_; an _art_. Plants do not think. Animals probably do, but
in a primary way, such as an aid in knowing poisonous foods, and how to
bring up an offspring with similar ability. But Man can, and _should_
think, and think hard and constantly. It is ridiculous to rush blindly
into an action without looking forward to lay out a plan. Such an
unthinking custom is almost a panic, and panic is but a mild form of
insanity.
So Kathlyn and Julius did a grand, good thing in having this Hall as an
addition to Branton Hills' institutions.
Now, in any city or town, or almost any small community, you will find
a building, or possibly only a room, about which said city or town has
nothing to say. It is that most important institution in which you put
a stamp on your mail and drop it into a slot, knowing that it will find
its way across city or country to that man or woman who is waiting for
it.
But how many young folks know _how_ this mail is put out so quickly,
and with such guaranty against loss? Not many, I think, if you ask.
So Gadsby, holding up Youth as a Nation's most important function in
its coming history, thought that any act which would instruct a child
in any way, was worthy. So, on a Saturday morning His Honor took a
group of Grammar School pupils to a balcony in back of that all-hiding
partition, and a postal official, showing all mail handling acts
individually, said:--
"In this country, two things stand first in rank: your flag and your
mail. You all know what honor you pay to your flag, but you should
know, also, that your mail,--just that ordinary postal card--is also
important. But a postal card, or any form of mail, is _not_ important,
in that way, until you drop it through a slot in this building, and
with a stamp on it, or into a mail box outdoors. Up to that instant
it is but a common card, which anybody can pick up and carry off
without committing a criminal act. But as soon as it is in back of
this partition, or in a mail box, a magical transformation occurs; and
anybody who _now_ should willfully purloin it, or obstruct its trip
in any way, will find prison doors awaiting him. What a frail thing
ordinary mail is! A baby could rip it apart, but no adult is so foolish
as to do it. That small stamp which you stick on it, is, you might say,
a postal official, going right along with it, having it always in his
sight."
A giggling girl was curious to know if that was why a man's photo is on
it.
"Possibly," said our official, laughing. "But wait a bit. Look
downstairs. As your mail falls in through that slot, or is brought in
by a mailman it is put through an ink-daubing apparatus--that's it,
right down in front of you--which totally ruins its stamp. How about
your man's photo, now?"