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96
The Inventions of the Idiot
·
John Kendrick Bangs
18
"You
are
a
wise
Idiot,"
said
the
Bibliomaniac,
settling
back
in
his
chair
in
a
disgusted,
tired
sort
of
way.
He
had
expected
some
sympathy
from
the
Idiot
as
a
fellow-collector,
even
though
their
aims
were
different.
It
is
always
difficult
for
a
man
whose
ten-thousand-dollar
library
has
brought
six
hundred
dollars
in
the
auction-room
to
find,
even
in
the
ranks
of
collectors,
one
who
understands
his
woes
and
helps
him
bear
the
burden
thereof
by
expressions
of
confidence
in
his
sanity.
"Then
you
believe
in
travel,
do
you?"
asked
the
Doctor.
"I
believe
there
is
nothing
broadens
the
mind
so
much,"
returned
the
Idiot.
"But
do
you
believe
it
will
develop
a
mind
where
there
isn't
one?"
asked
the
School-master,
unpleasantly.
"Or,
to
put
it
more
favorably,
don't
you
think
there
would
be
danger
in
taking
the
germ
of
a
mind
in
a
small
head
and
broadening
it
until
it
runs
the
risk
of
finding
itself
confined
to
cramped
quarters?"
"That
is
a
question
for
a
physician
to
answer,"
said
the
Idiot.
"But,
if
I
were
you,
I
wouldn't
travel
if
I
thought
there
was
any
such
danger."
"Tu
quoque,"
retorted
the
School-master,
"is
not
true
repartee."
"I
shall
have
to
take
your
word
for
that,"
returned
the
Idiot,
"since
I
have
not
a
Latin
dictionary
with
me,
and
all
the
Latin
I
know
is
to
be
found
in
the
quotations
in
the
back
of
my
dictionary,
like
'Status
quo
ante,'
'In
vino
veritas,'
and
'Et
tu,
Brute.'
However,
as
I
said
before,
I'd
like
to
travel,
and
I
would
if
it
were
not
that
the
sea
and
I
are
not
on
very
good
terms
with
each
other.
It
makes
me
ill
to
cross
the
East
River
on
the
bridge,
I'm
so
susceptible
to
sea-sickness."
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