Elder Conklin and Other Stories Part 24

"That may be your philosophy, Mr. Gulmore," said Roberts lightly, as the other paused, "but it's not mine. I'm satisfied with one or two falls; they've taught me that the majority is with you."

Gulmore's seriousness relaxed still further; he saw his opponent's ingenuousness, and took his statement as a tribute to his own power.

"My philosophy," he began, as if the word pleased him, "my philosophy--I guess I ken give you that in a few words. When I was a boy in Vermont I was reckoned smart at figgerin'. But one day an old farmer caught me.

'See here, boy,' he said, 'I live seventeen miles out of town, and when in late fall the roads are bad and I drive in with a cartload of potatoes, the shakin' sends all the big potatoes to the top and all the little ones to the bottom. That's good for me that wants to sell, but why is it? How does it come?'

"Well, I didn't know the reason then, an' I told him so. But I took the fact right there for my philosophy. Ef the road was long enough and rough enough I was sure to come to the top."

"I understand," said Roberts laughingly. "But I've heard farmers here say that the biggest potatoes are not the best; they are generally hollow at the--in the middle, I mean."

"That's weak," retorted Gulmore with renewed seriousness. "I shouldn't hev thought you'd hev missed the point like that. When I was a boy I skipped away from the meanin' out of conceit. I thought I'd climb high because I was big, and meant gettin' up more'n a little un could.

But before I was a man I understood the reason. It isn't that the big potatoes want partic'lar to come to the top; it is that the little potatoes are _de_termined to get to the bottom.

"You may now be havin' a boost up, Professor, I hope you are; but you've gone underneath once, an' that looks bad."

"The a.n.a.logy seems perfect," replied Roberts thoughtfully. "But, by your own showing, the big men owe their position to the number of their inferiors. And at the bottom lie the very smallest, helpless and bruised, supporting their fortunate brethren. A sad state of things at the best, Mr. Gulmore; but unbearable if the favoured ones forget their debt to those beneath them."

"Sad or not," said the Boss, "it represents the facts, an' it's well to take account of them; but I guess we must be goin', your time'll soon be up. We wish you success, Professor."

SEPTEMBER, 1892 AND 1893.

THE END.