Parnassus on Wheels by Christopher Morley Read Free Book Online

pride. Now how
much better is Prospect Park, giving a fair view over the hills of
humility! There is no hope for New Yorkers, for they glory in their
skyscraping sins; but in Brooklyn there is the wisdom of the lowly."
    "So you think that if I had been a governess in Brooklyn I should
have been so contented that I would never have come with Andrew
and compiled my anthology of 6,000 loaves of bread and the lesser
lyrics?"
    But the volatile Professor had already soared to other points of
view, and was not to be thwarted by argument.
    "Of course Brooklyn is a dingy place, really," he admitted. "But to
me it symbolizes a state of mind, whereas New York is only a state
of pocket. You see I was a boy in Brooklyn: it still trails clouds
of glory for me. When I get back there and start work on my book
I shall be as happy as Nebuchadnezzar when he left off grass and
returned to tea and crumpets. 'Literature Among the Farmers' I'm
going to call it, but that's a poor title. I'd like to read you some
of my notes for it."
    I'm afraid I poorly concealed a yawn. As a matter of fact I was
sleepy, and it was growing chilly.
    "Tell me first," I said, "where in the world are we, and what time
is it?"
    He pulled out a turnip watch. "It's nine o'clock," he said, "and
we're about two miles from Shelby, I should reckon. Perhaps we'd
better get along. They told me in Greenbriar that the Grand Central
Hotel in Shelby is a good place to stop at. That's why I wasn't
anxious to get there. It sounds so darned like New York."
    He bundled the cooking utensils back into Parnassus, hitched Peg up
again, and tied Bock to the stern of the van. Then he insisted on
giving me the two dollars and eighty cents he had collected in
Greenbriar. I was really too sleepy to protest, and of course it was
mine anyway. We creaked off along the dark and silent road between
the pine woods. I think he talked fluently about his pilgrim's
progress among the farmers of a dozen states, but (to be honest)
I fell asleep in my corner of the seat. I woke up when we halted
before the one hotel in Shelby—a plain, unimposing country inn,
despite its absurd name. I left him to put Parnassus and the animals
away for the night, while I engaged a room. Just as I got my key
from the clerk he came into the dingy lobby.
    "Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said. "Shall I see you in the morning?"
    "I had intended to push on to Port Vigor to-night," he said, "but as
it's fully eight miles (they tell me), I guess I'll bivouac here. I
think I'll go into the smoking-room and put them wise to some good
books. We won't say good-bye till to-morrow."
    My room was pleasant and clean (fairly so). I took my suit case up
with me and had a hot bath. As I fell asleep I heard a shrill voice
ascending from below, punctuated with masculine laughter. The
Pilgrim was making more converts!

Chapter Six
*
    I had a curious feeling of bewilderment when I woke the next
morning. The bare room with the red-and-blue rag carpet and green
china toilet set was utterly strange. In the hall outside I heard a
clock strike. "Heavens!" I thought, "I've overslept myself nearly
two hours. What on earth will Andrew do for breakfast?" And then
as I ran to close the window I saw the blue Parnassus with its
startling red letters standing in the yard. Instantly I remembered.
And discreetly peeping from behind the window shade I saw that the
Professor, armed with a tin of paint, was blotting out his own name
on the side of the van, evidently intending to substitute mine. That
was something I had not thought of. However, I might as well make
the best of it.
    I dressed promptly, repacked my bag, and hurried downstairs for
breakfast. The long table was nearly empty, but one or two men
sitting at the other end eyed me curiously. Through the window I
could see my name in large, red letters, growing on the side of the
van, as the Professor diligently wielded his brush. And when I had
finished my coffee and beans and bacon I noticed with some