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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
147
Whether
there
can
be
a
real
democracy
(as
in
a
city)
where
there
is
not
that
elbow
knowledge,
that
close
neighbourhood
sympathy,
that
conscious
surrender
of
little
personal
goods
for
bigger
public
ones,
I
don't
know.
We
haven't
many
foreigners
in
our
district,
but
all
three
were
there
on
the
night
we
voted
for
the
addition.
They
are
Polish.
Each
has
a
farm
where
the
whole
family
works--and
puts
on
a
little
more
Americanism
each
year.
They're
good
people.
It
is
surprising
how
much
all
these
Poles,
Italians,
Germans
and
others,
are
like
us,
how
perfectly
human
they
are,
when
we
know
them
personally!
One
Pole
here,
named
Kausky,
I
have
come
to
know
pretty
well,
and
I
declare
I
have
forgotten
that
he
is
a
Pole.
There's
nothing
like
the
rub
of
democracy!
The
reason
why
we
are
so
suspicious
of
the
foreigners
in
our
cities
is
that
they
are
crowded
together
in
such
vast,
unknown,
undigested
masses.
We
have
swallowed
them
too
fast,
and
we
suffer
from
a
sort
of
national
dyspepsia.
Here
in
the
country
we
promptly
digest
our
foreigners
and
they
make
as
good
Americans
as
anybody.
"Catch
a
foreigner
when
he
first
comes
here,"
says
Charles
Baxter,
"and
he
takes
to
our
politics
like
a
fish
to
water."
The
Scotch
Preacher
says
they
"gape
for
education,"
And
when
I
see
Kausky's
six
children
going
by
in
the
morning
to
school,
all
their
round,
sleepy,
fat
faces
shining
with
soap,
I
believe
it!
Baxter
tells
with
humour
how
he
persuaded
Kausky
to
vote
for
the
addition
to
the
schoolhouse.
It
was
a
pretty
stiff
tax
for
the
poor
fellow
to
pay,
but
Baxter
"figgered
children
with
him,"
as
he
said.
With
six
to
educate,
Baxter
showed
him
that
he
was
actually
getting
a
good
deal
more
than
he
paid
for!
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