tes, and also very good tails to them; but the best part was
lacking,--the rascals had no hands and feet. You must know, my dear
friend, I've just discovered the reason of this, and if I'm not
mistaken, the case is precisely the same with you; we're both men of
mediocre ability, Herr Feyertag. Once this vexed me very much, and an
admirable lecture Papa Zaunkoenig once gave, to prove that there must be
such people in the world, was entirely lost upon me. Since then I've
grown somewhat wiser. To be sure, it's disagreeable that we're neither
of us remarkable men and only belong to the masses, helping to make up
the crowd and to prepare the soil which supports the really gigantic
human plants. But look around you at Nature--isn't it the same story
everywhere? To one oak that lasts for centuries, there are hundreds of
thousands of low bushes, which moulder and decay, that this historical
representative of the species may grow to an unusual height. If we wish
to fret or lament about it, of course we're at liberty to do so. It's
only a pity, that there's no court before which we can bring our
complaint, for it's useless, my dear sir, and therefore only injurious,
first to ourselves because it sours the blood and poisons the wine, and
secondly to our fellow men, whose happiness we spoil by our
discontent."

"But progress, Herr Mohr, the aspiration toward higher things called
propagandism--?"

Mohr stood still. "How old are you now, my dear friend?" he asked,
pulling an over ripe ear of corn from the field through which they were
just passing.

"Fifty-nine, Herr Mohr."

"An excellent age, Herr Feyertag, and I trust you may live to a still
greater. And how tall are you now--I mean in feet and inches?"

"Five feet three inches, Herr Mohr."

"Do you expect to grow any more?"

"I? With my fifty-nine years?"

"But if you _desired_ to do so, if you felt the _aspiration_ to look
over a file leader's shoulder?"

"I'm not so foolish, Herr Mohr, as to expect anything of that sort! But
if I may venture to ask--"

"Why should you not venture to ask, my dear sir? I merely put the
question to have you ask. That's called the Socratic method. You see,
with all your aspirations toward higher things, you can no more succeed
in adding an ell to your intellectual stature, than you can make your
body taller. We're of middle height, Herr Feyertag; in case of need to
be sure we can increase a little in breadth, add some fat of knowledge