"Wouldn't what?"

"Wouldn't fetch no sich notions into this ked'ntry. Can't afford tew.
'Taint no land of idees. It's the ked'ntry of corner lots. Idees is in
the way--don't pay no interest. Haint had time to build a 'sylum fer
people with idees yet, in this territory. Ef you must have 'em, why let
me _rec_-ommend Bost'n. Drove hack there wunst, myself." Then after a
pause he proceeded with the deliberation of a judge: "It's the best
village I ever lay eyes on fer idees, is Bost'n. Thicker'n hops! Grow
single and in bunches. Have s'cieties there fer idees. Used to make money
outen the fellows with idees, cartin 'em round to anniversaries and sich.
Ef you only wear a nice slick plug-hat there, you kin believe anything
you choose or not, and be a gentleman all the same. The more you believe
or don't believe in Bost'n, the more gentleman you be. The
don't-believers is just as good as the believers. Idees inside the head,
and plug-hats outside. But idees out here! I tell you, here it's nothin'
but per-cent." The Superior Being puckered his lips and whistled. "_Git_
up, will you! G'lang! Better try Bost'n."

Perhaps Albert Charlton, the student passenger, was a little offended
with the liberty the driver had taken in rebuking his theories. He was
full of "idees," and his fundamental idea was of course his belief in
the equality and universal brotherhood of men. In theory he recognized
no social distinctions. But the most democratic of democrats in theory
is just a little bit of an aristocrat in feeling--he doesn't like to be
patted on the back by the hostler; much less does he like to be
reprimanded by a stage-driver. And Charlton was all the more sensitive
from a certain vague consciousness that he himself had let down the bars
of his dignity by unfolding his theories so gushingly to Whisky Jim.
What did Jim know--what _could_ a man who said "idees" know--about the