"
My bewigged little landlady was feasting her eyes on her son
Meyer went on with his argument: "What is a man without capital?
Nothing! Nobody cares for him. He is like a beast. A beast can't
talk, and he can't.
'Money talks,' as the Americans say."
His words and manner put me in a socialist mood. He was hateful
to me. I listened in morose silence. He felt piqued, and he wilted.
The ginger went out of his voice. My taciturnity continued, until,
gradually, he edged over to my side of the controversy, taking up
the cudgels for education and spiritual excellence with the same
force with which he had a short while ago tried to set forth their
futility
"Of course it's nice to be educated," he said. "A man without
writing is just like a deaf mute. What's the difference? The man
who can't write has speech in his mouth, but he is dumb with his
fingers, while the deaf mute he can't talk with his mouth, but he
can do so with his fingers. Both should be pitied. I do like
education. Of course I do. Don't I send my boy to college? I am an
ignorant boor myself, because my father was poor, but my children
shall have all the wisdom they can pile in.
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