y revealing his inmost
heart. When a bachelor in his late fifties tells us how glad he is never
to have had a son, we begin to taste sour grapes.

I went out about six o'clock, and was thrilled by a shaving of shining
new moon in the cold blue winter sky--"the sky with its terribly cold
clear moon, which none care to watch, is simply heart-breaking," says
Kenko. As I walked up Broadway I turned back for another look at the
moon, and found it hidden by the vast bulk of a hotel. Kenko would have
had some caustic remark for that. I went into the Milwaukee Lunch for
supper. They had just baked some of their delicious fresh bran muffins,
still hot from the oven. I had two of them, sliced and buttered, with a
pot of tea. Kenko lay on the table, and the red-headed philosopher who
runs the lunchroom spotted him. I have always noticed that "plain men"
are vastly curious about books. They seem to suspect that there is some
occult power in them, some mystery that they would like to grasp. My
friend, who has the bearing of a prizefighter, but the heart of an
amiable child, came over and picked up the book. He sat down at the
table with me and looked at it. I was a little doubtful how to explain
matters, for I felt that it was the kind of book he would not be likely
to care for. He began spelling it out loud, rather laboriously--

Section 1. Well! Being born into this world there are, I suppose,
many aims which we may strive to attain.

To my surprise he showed the greatest enthusiasm. So much so that I
ordered another pair of bran muffins, which I did not really want, so
that he might have more time for reading Kenko.

"Who was this fellow?" he asked.

"He was a Jap," I said, "lived a long time ago. He was mighty thick with
the Emperor, and after the Emperor died he went to live by himself in
the country, and became a priest, and wrote down his thoughts."

"I see," said my friend. "Just put down whatever came into his head,
eh?"

"That's it. All his ideas about the queer things a fellow runs into in
life, you know, little bits of philosophy."

I was a little afraid of using that word "philosophy," but I couldn't
think of anything else to say. It struck my friend very pleasantly.

"That's it," he said, "philosophy. Just as you say, now, he went off by
himself and put things down the way they come to him. Philosophy. Sure.
Say, that's a good kind of book. I like that kind of thing. I have a lot
of books at home, you