yesterday. But when a fellow begins with the past, it's apt to
take him too long to catch up with the present. A man can learn better
most of the things that happened between A.D. 1492 and B.C. 5000 after
he's grown, for then he can sense their meaning and remember what's
worth knowing. But you take the average boy who's been loaded up with
this sort of stuff, and dig into him, and his mind is simply a
cemetery of useless dates from the tombstones of those tough and
sporty old kings, with here and there the jaw-bone of an ass who made
a living by killing every one in sight and unsettling business for
honest men. Some professors will tell you that it's good training
anyway to teach boys a lot of things they're going to forget, but it's
been my experience that it's the best training to teach them things
they'll remember.

I simply mention these matters in a general way. I don't want you to
underestimate the value of any sort of knowledge, and I want you to
appreciate the value of other work besides your own--music and
railroading, ground and lofty tumbling and banking, painting pictures
and soap advertising; because if you're not broad enough to do this
you're just as narrow as those fellows who are running the culture
corner, and your mind will get so blame narrow it will overlap.

I want to raise our kid to be a poor man's son, and then, if it's
necessary, we can always teach him how to be a rich one's. Child
nature is human nature, and a man who understands it can make his
children like the plain, sensible things and ways as easily as the
rich and foolish ones. I remember a nice old lady who was raising a
lot of orphan grandchildren on a mighty slim income. They couldn't have
chicken often in that house, and when they did it was a pretty close
fit and none to throw away. So instead of beginning with the white
meat and stirring up the kids like a cage full of hyenas when the
"feeding the carnivora" sign is out, she would play up the pieces that
don't even get a mention on the bill-of-fare of a two-dollar country
hotel. She would begin by saying in a please-don't-all-speak-at-once
tone, "Now, children, who wants this dear little neck?" and naturally
they all wanted it, because it was pretty plain to them that it was
something extra sweet and juicy. So she would allot it as a reward of
goodness to the child who had been behaving best, and throw in the
gizzard for nourishment. The nice old lady always helped herself last