“My friends,” said Mr. Mifflin.  “You remember Abe Lincoln’s joke about the dog?  If you call a tail a leg, said Abe, how many legs has a dog?  Five, you answer.  No, says Abe; because calling a tail a leg doesn’t make it a leg.  Well, there are lots of us in the same case as that dog’s tail.  Calling us men doesn’t make us men.  No creature on earth has a right to think himself a human being if he doesn’t know at least one good book.  The man that spends every evening chewing Piper Heidsieck at the store is unworthy to catch the intimations of a benevolent Creator.  The man that’s got a few good books on his shelf is making his wife happy, giving his children a square deal, and he’s likely to be a better citizen himself.  How about that, parson?”

I heard the deep voice of Reverend Kane, the Methodist minister:  “You’re dead right, Professor!” he shouted.  “Tell us some more about books.  I’m right with you!” Evidently Mr. Kane had been attracted by the sight of Parnassus, and I could hear him muttering to himself as he pulled one or two books from the shelves.  How surprised he would have been if he had known I was inside the van!  I took the precaution of slipping the bolt of the door at the back, and drew the curtains.  Then I crept back into the bunk.  I began to imagine what an absurd situation there would be if Andrew should arrive on the scene.

“You are all used to hucksters and pedlars and fellows selling every kind of junk from brooms to bananas,” said the Professor’s voice.  “But how often does any one come round here to sell you books?  You’ve got your town library, I dare say; but there are some books that folks ought to own.  I’ve got ’em all here from Bibles to cook books.  They’ll speak for themselves.  Step up to the shelves, friends, and pick and choose.”

I heard the parson asking the price of something he had found on the shelves, and I believe he bought it; but the hum of voices around the flanks of Parnassus was very soothing, and in spite of my interest in what was going on I’m afraid I fell asleep.  I must have been pretty tired; anyway I never felt the van start again.  The Professor says he looked in through the little window from the driver’s seat, and saw me sound asleep.  And the next thing I knew I woke up with a start to find myself rolling leisurely in the dark.  Bock was still lying over my feet, and there was a faint, musical clang from the bucket under the van which struck against something now and then.  The Professor was sitting in front, with a lighted lantern hanging from the peak of the van roof.  He was humming some outlandish song to himself, with a queer, monotonous refrain: 

  Shipwrecked was I off Soft Perowse
    And right along the shore,
  And so I did resolve to roam
    The country to explore. 
  Tommy rip fal lal and a balum tip
    Tommy rip fal lal I dee;
  And so I did resolve to roam
    The country for to see!