r
me to answer. The United States government wished me to state how many
sons and daughters I had and whether my sons were males and my daughters
females. I was further required to state that not only was I of white
descent and that my wife (if I had one) was of white descent, but that
our children (if we had any) were also of white descent. I was also
called upon to state whether any of my sons under the age of five (if I
had any) had ever been in the military or naval service of the United
States, and whether my grandfather (if I had one) was attending school
on September 30 last. There were other questions of a like nature, but
these are all I can recall at present.

Halfway through the schedule I was in a high state of irritation. The
census enumerator's visit in itself I do not consider a nuisance. Like
most Americans who sniff at the privileges of citizenship, I secretly
delight in them. I speak cynically of boss-rule and demagogues, but I
cast my vote on Election Day in a state of solemn and somewhat nervous
exaltation that frequently interferes with my folding the ballot in the
prescribed way. I have never been summoned for jury duty, but if I ever
should be, I shall accept with pride and in the hope that I shall not be
peremptorily challenged. It needs some such official document as a
census schedule to bring home the feeling that government and state
exist for me and my own welfare. Filling out the answers in the list
was one of the pleasant manifestations of democracy, of which paying
taxes is the unpleasant side. The printed form before me embodied a
solemn function. I was aware that many important problems depended upon
my answering the questions properly. Only then, for instance, could the
government decide how many Congressmen should go to Washington, and what
my share was of the total wealth of the country, and how I contributed
to the drift from the farm to the city, and what was the average income
of Methodist clergymen in cities of over 100,000 population.

What, then, if so many of the questions put to me by the United States
government seemed superfluous to the point of being absurd? The process
may involve a certain waste of paper and ink and time, but it is the
kind of waste without which the business of life would be impossible.
The questions that really shape human happiness are those to which the
reply is obvious. The answers that count are those the questioner knew
he would get and was prepar