Parnassus on Wheels

A free download from http://www.dertz.in





Parnassus on Wheels

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Parnassus on Wheels, by Christopher
Morley #4 in our series by Christopher Morley
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the
header without written permission.
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how
the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since
1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of

Volunteers!*****
Title: Parnassus on Wheels
Author: Christopher Morley
Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5311] [Yes, we are more than one
year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on June 29, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
PARNASSUS ON WHEELS ***

Digitized by Cardinalis Press, C.E.K. Prepared for Project Gutenberg
by Andrew Sly

PARNASSUS ON WHEELS
BY
CHRISTOPHER MORLEY
To H.B.F. and H.F.M. "Trusty, dusky, vivid, true"
A LETTER TO David Grayson, Esq. OF HEMPFIELD, U.S.A.
MY DEAR SIR,
Although my name appears on the title page, the real author of this
book is Miss Helen McGill (now Mrs. Roger Mifflin), who told me the
story with her own inimitable vivacity. And on her behalf I want to

send to you these few words of acknowledgment.
Mrs. Mifflin, I need hardly say, is unskilled in the arts of authorship:
this is her first book, and I doubt whether she will ever write another.
She hardly realized, I think, how much her story owes to your own
delightful writings. There used to be a well-thumbed copy of
"Adventures in Contentment" on her table at the Sabine Farm, and I
have seen her pick it up, after a long day in the kitchen, read it with
chuckles, and say that the story of you and Harriet reminded her of
herself and Andrew. She used to mutter something about "Adventures
in Discontentment" and ask why Harriet's side of the matter was never
told? And so when her own adventure came to pass, and she was urged
to put it on paper, I think she unconsciously adopted something of the
manner and matter that you have made properly yours.
Surely, sir, you will not disown so innocent a tribute! At any rate, Miss
Harriet Grayson, whose excellent qualities we have all so long admired,
will find in Mrs. Mifflin a kindred spirit.
Mrs. Mifflin would have said this for herself, with her characteristic
definiteness of speech, had she not been out of touch with her
publishers and foolscap paper. She and the Professor are on their
Parnassus, somewhere on the high roads, happily engrossed in the most
godly diversion known to man--selling books. And I venture to think
that there are no volumes they take more pleasure in recommending
than the wholesome and invigorating books which bear your name.
Believe me, dear Mr. Grayson, with warm regards,
Faithfully yours, CHRISTOPHER MORLEY.


CHAPTER ONE
I wonder if there isn't a lot of bunkum in higher education? I never

found that people who were learned in logarithms and other kinds of
poetry were any quicker in washing dishes or darning socks. I've done a
good deal of reading when I could, and I don't want to "admit
impediments" to the love of books, but I've also seen lots of good,
practical folk spoiled by too much fine print. Reading sonnets always
gives me hiccups, too.
I never expected to be an author! But I do think there are some amusing
things about the story of Andrew and myself and how books broke up
our placid life. When John Gutenberg, whose real name (so the
Professor says) was John Gooseflesh, borrowed that money to set up
his printing press he launched a lot of troubles on the world.
Andrew and I were wonderfully happy on the farm until he became an
author. If I could have foreseen all the bother his writings were to cause
us, I would certainly have burnt the first manuscript in the kitchen
stove.
Andrew McGill, the author of those books every one reads, is my
brother. In other words, I am his sister, ten years younger. Years ago
Andrew was