mind balked absolutely and refused to go on. I felt as did the old
gentleman who saw an aeroplane for the first time. After watching
its gyrations for some time he finally exclaimed: "They ain't no sich
thing."

My college roommate, Mack, went over to London, once, on some errand,
and of course went to the British Museum. Near the entrance he came
upon the Rosetta Stone, and stood inthralled. He reflected that he
was standing in the presence of a monument that marks the beginning
of recorded history, that back of that all was dark, and that all the
books in all the libraries emanate from that beginning. The thought
was so big, so overmastering, that there was no room in his mind for
anything else, so he turned about and left without seeing anything
else in the Museum. Since then we have had many a big laugh together
as he recounts to me his wonderful visit to the Rosetta Stone. I see
clearly that in the presence of that modest stone he got all the
mental clothing he could possibly wear at the time. Changing the
mind sometimes seems to amount almost to surgery.

Sometime, if I can get my stub pen limbered up I shall try my hand at
writing a bit of a composition on the subject of "The Inequality of
Equals." I know that the Declaration tells us that all men are born
free and equal, and I shall explain in my essay that it means us to
understand that while they are born equal, they begin to become
unequal the day after they are born, and become more so as one
changes his mind and the other one does not. I try, all the while,
to make myself believe that I am the equal of my neighbor, the judge,
and then I feel foolish to think that I ever tried it. The neighbors
all know it isn't true, and so do I when I quit arguing with myself.
He has such a long start of me now that I wonder if I can ever