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going on for a long time, in fact, the clipping immediately recalled to my mind a short story of Galsworthy's - The Apple Tree, though the locale was Devon, where farmers have had tourists during summer for at least half a century. And the clipping re. Eric Hoffer, is a case in point of a half-educated, self-educated man who very likely acquired a goodly bunch of pelf and decided he was not an ultra-conservative. I have known so many who when they got a bunch of dough, forgot their former fellow-workers insofar as associating with them. In the case of Hoffer, I'm sure Eric Sevareid was terribly embarrassed, as I'm sure Eric was his sponsor in the first instance. I saw Hoffer on TV the time he made the asinine statement that led to his non-appearances and the loss of his column (herabouts [sic], anyway).

  Carleton College, I have always thought, was rather a superior college as regards the minor colleges of this country, and it seems to me I've heard their prez say how they don't allow no banjo swingin' up there - keep a tight rein.  But you probably know that students in rural areas are usually plenty conservative themselves, are suspicious of city folk and have no truck with "different" ideas.  Not long ago I heard Mel Belli, one of America's leading trial lawyers, say that he was disappointed with a 350,000 dollar verdict from a Montana jury.  He further said that if the case had been brought in any large city the amount would have been twice as much.  Belli is plenty flamboyant, but probably gets the largest amounts for his clients, and other trial lawyers have been imitating his methods.   I have found farmers and westerners to be amongst the world's cheapest bastards, consequently, when I see a man with a ten-gallon hat, I am repulsed, my experiences on the tramp being revived.  Living in an Iowa farming community for two years, I was particularly amused in reading Ilka Chase's book, underlined:  Past Imperfect,  her account of a cowboy she met at some social affair in Long Island many years ago.  This farmer on horseback asked Ilka what she did for a living.   She said she wrote books.  "Oh," said the cowboy, "I read a book underlined: once."  I sometimes gave weary travelers a sandwich, sometimes a meal, and perhaps a quarter, when I was a kid helping the station agent in that Iowa town.  The farmers, who spent a lot of time in winter loafing at the station, used to tell me I was crazy.  A few years ago, a man who was living in Red wing [sic], Minnesota, told me of a farmer who came to town and wanted to sell a pair of women's high-button shoes!  Around harvest time the farmers would come to the station and meet the morning local freight, which usually had some passengers riding atop box cars.  The farmers would sometimes hire a field hand, but when the field hand wanted five dollars a day for pitching bundles, the farmers would get real mad, whereupon the field hand would climb aboard the train and depart.  The IWW were especially hated by farmers, as they demanded six dollars a day, with the farmers literally rolling in dough.   I earned 35 bucks a month for a long day, increased to 70 after one year - due to the McAdoo influence in USRR Admin., and the railroads hated to give those raises.
   I re-read Huckleberry Finn recently, and I note that V.S. Pritchett, the outstanding English author, has praised the book not long ago, saying that the book gave a deep insight to humanity, that the humor was for all time.  I remember asking a station agent once (I was 14 at the time) if he'd ever read Huckleberry Finn.  Scornfully, he said:  "Yeah, but I was a boy then, now I'M a man."  As much as to say he wouldn't be caught dead with the book now.
   Your review of the Golden book was in last night's Panorama, which I've mailed earlier today, as the one and only post pick-up is 1:30 P.M., and Saturdays it's 12:30 P.M.  I also heard from Wedlake by card from California.  K&B now has an armed guard on main floor every day: I noticed a few weeks ago when I went downtown to order a book on the Sioux Indians, which is going  to the landlady at the York guest house where I stopped a few days last April.  Her late husband, a Sioux in the American army, was killed at Casablanca in WW-2.  As I may have told you previously, she was one of those people easy to talk with and not a bitchy, complaining, tyrant-type such as one meets so often, and I met two such on that trip.  One (Birmingham) thought it queer that a guest would want her to have breakfast at 8:00 A.M. (I didn't ask for this).  Another (Cambridge) complained that I woke her up by using the bathroom at 7:15 A.M.  handwritten note in left margin:  I also told the German that antiquated plumbing woke her, not I.  I was in pain from a gum condition at the time and had to use the bathroom anyway.  I later sent her a note reminding her that I hadn't eaten breakfast (was too disgusted) that morning, nor had I got my key money back (deposit), but she could probably use the money saved by purchasing some toilet paper, as there was only one thin sheet on hand that morning.   This latter landlady was a German, apparently somewhat better educated than most hausfraus.  Thanks again for your letter and "cuttings."

Regards, Mead.

P.S. "Working within the system", we R.R. pensioners finally got our increase (15%) - after waiting since January when the bill passed.