CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

My right to speak for the man in the street,the average American, is, I am aware, open toserious question. Possibly there are amiablepersons who, if urged to pass judgment, wouldappraise me a trifle higher than the average;others, I am painfully aware, would rate memuch lower. The point is, of course, one aboutwhich I am not entitled to an opinion. I offerno apology for the apparent unrelated characterof the subjects herein discussed, for to my mindthe volume has a certain cohesion. In thatpart of America with which I am most familiar,literature, politics, religion, and the changingsocial scene are all of a piece. We disport ourselvesin one field as blithely as in another.Within a few blocks of this room, on the fifteenthfloor of an office-building in the centre of myhome town, I can find men and women quitecompetent to answer questions pertaining toany branch of philosophy or the arts. I calleda lawyer friend on the telephone only yesterday[viii]and hummed a few bars of music that he mightaid me with the correct designation of one ofBeethoven’s symphonies. In perplexity overan elusive quotation I can, with all confidence,plant myself on the post-office steps and someone will come along with the answer. I donot mention these matters boastfully, butmerely to illustrate the happy conditions oflife in the delectable province in which I wasborn.

The papers here collected first appearedin the Atlantic Monthly, except “Let MainStreet Alone!” which was published in theNew York Evening Post, “The Cheerful BreakfastTable,” which is reprinted from the YaleReview, and “The Poor Old English Language,”which is reproduced from Scribner’s Magazine.The political articles are sufficiently explainedby their dates. They are reprinted withoutalteration in the hope that some later studentof the periods scrutinized may find them ofinterest.

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