A Parody Outline of History | Page 9

and on the
whole", said Colombo, "I believe the safest course would be to put
back at once for Spain, for certainly I have no desire to take the
remotest chance of discovering anything which may in the least
resemble that Gopher Prairie."
And the tale tells that as Colombo started for the deck in order that he
might give the signal for the return to Spain, there came across the
water from one of the other ships the faint cry of a sailor. And the sailor
was waving his hat and shouting, "Land Ho!"
Thus it was that Cristofer Colombo became the discoverer of the land
of his imagining, and as he stood on the deck Colombo mused.

"Now this is a sorrowful jest and a very unfair jest that is happening,"
said he. "For I who have dreamed a beautiful dream of the land of my
imagining will quite probably henceforth be known only as the
discoverer of what will turn out to be merely one more hideous and
stupid country." And tears came to the eyes of Colombo, for on the
waves behind him floated the torn and scattered pages of the poem
which sang the imagined vision of Beauty of him whom men long and
long ago called the Dreamer.
Thus it was in the old days.

ANALYSIS AND SUMMARY OF THE FOREGOING ARTICLE In
the Manner of Dr. Frank Crane
There is a lesson for us all in this beautiful story of how Columbus
realized his ambition to be a great discoverer.
Men called Columbus a Dreamer--but that is just what folks once said
about Thomas A. Edison and Henry Ford.
The world has a place for Dreamers--if they are Practical Dreamers.
Columbus was ambitious. Ambition is a great thing if it is unselfish
ambition. By unselfish I mean for the greatest good of the greatest
number. Shakespeare, the great teacher, shows us in "Macbeth" what
happens to the selfishly ambitious man.
Columbus got ahead by paying attention to small details. Whatever he
did, he did to the best of his ability. Even when engaged in teaching
geography to the Queen, Columbus was the best geography teacher he
knew how to be. And before long he was made Royal Geographer.
In our daily lives let us all resolve to be good teachers of geography.
We may not all become Royal Geographers--but there will be to us the
lasting satisfaction of having done our best. And that, as a greater than I
has said, is "more precious than rubies--yea, than much fine gold".

Chapter Three
MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass.
In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis
I
1620.
Late autumn.
The sour liver-colored shores of America.
Breaking waves dashing too high on a stern and rockbound coast.
Woods tossing giant branches planlessly against a stormy sky.
Cape Cod Bay--wet and full of codfish. The codfish--wet and full of
bones.
Standing on the deck of the anchored "Mayflower", gazing reflectively
at the shores of the new world, is Priscilla Kennicott.
A youthful bride on a ship full of pilgrims; a lily floating in a dish of
prunes; a cloissone vase in a cargo of oil cans.
Her husband joins her. Together they go forward to where their fellow
pilgrims are preparing to embark in small boats.
Priscilla jumps into the bow of the first of these to shove off.
As the small craft bumps the shore, Priscilla rises joyously. She
stretches her hands in ecstasy toward the new world. She leans forward
against the breeze, her whole figure alive with the joy of expectant
youth.

She leaps with an irrepressible "Yippee" from the boat to the shore.
She remains for an instant, a vibrant pagan, drunk with the joy of life;
Pan poised for an unforgettable moment on Plymouth Rock.
The next minute her foot slips on the hard, wet, unyielding stone. She
clutches desperately. She slides slowly back into the cold chill saltness
of Cape Cod Bay.
She is pulled, dripping and ashamed, into the boat. She crouches there,
shivering and hopeless. She hears someone whisper, "Pride goeth
before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."
A coarse mirthless chuckle.
The pilgrims disembark.
II
Plymouth.
A year later.
Night.
She lay sleepless on her bed.
She heard the outside door open; Kennicott returning from prayer
meeting.
He sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. She knew that
the left boot would stick. She knew exactly what he would say and how
long it would take him to get it off. She rolled over in bed, a tactical
movement which left no blanket for her husband.
"You weren't at prayer meeting," he said.
"I had a headache," she lied. He expressed no sympathy.

"Miles Standish was telling me what you did today at the meeting of