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Updated: June 13, 2025
They seem to lack all power of looking at things impersonally. They simply go over and over the same talk about Fords and the weather and so on." said Howard Littlefield. "Still, at that, you can't blame 'em. They haven't got any intellectual stimulus such as you get up here in the city," said Chum Frink. "Gosh, that's right," said Babbitt.
Thing to do is to ferment cider!" Jones insisted, "I've got the receipt that does the business!" Swanson begged, "Oh, say, lemme tell you the story " But Frink went on resolutely, "You take and save the shells from peas, and pour six gallons of water on a bushel of shells and boil the mixture till " Mrs.
But Chum Frink, a traveled man and not unused to woes, was stricken by the thought that the potion might be merely fruit-juice with a little neutral spirits. He looked timorous as Babbitt, a moist and ecstatic almoner, held out a glass, but as he tasted it he piped, "Oh, man, let me dream on! It ain't true, but don't waken me! Jus' lemme slumber!"
Babbitt marveled, "Of course we're up-to-date ourselves, but still, think of us entertaining a famous poet like Chum Frink, a fellow that on nothing but a poem or so every day and just writing a few advertisements pulls down fifteen thousand berries a year!" "Yes, and Howard Littlefield. Do you know, the other evening Eunice told me her papa speaks three languages!" said Mrs. Babbitt. "Huh!
Frink stopped, focused his vision, and spoke with gravity: "There's another fool. George Babbitt. Lives for renting howshes houses. Know who I am? I'm traitor to poetry. I'm drunk. I'm talking too much. I don't care. Know what I could 've been? I could 've been a Gene Field or a James Whitcomb Riley. Maybe a Stevenson. I could 've. Whimsies. 'Magination. Lissen. Lissen to this.
It was at this point that Babbitt muttered, "Oh, rot!" "Huh?" said Chum Frink. "He doesn't know what he's talking about. It's just as clear as mud. It doesn't mean a darn thing." "Maybe, but " Frink looked at him doubtfully, through all the service kept glancing at him doubtfully, till Babbitt was nervous.
He asked Howard Littlefield for a "set of statistics about real-estate sales; something good and impressive," and Littlefield provided something exceedingly good and impressive. But it was to T. Cholmondeley Frink that Babbitt most often turned.
This Society had already erected a comfortable frame Church, and the neighborhood had become famous as the locality in which the Milwaukee District Camp-Meetings were held. West Granville Church was located in the neighborhood that was known in the early times by the name of Menomonee. And it will be recollected that Brother Frink organized a class at this point also in 1840.
They wriggled, and pretended not to be impressed. Frink spoke with gravity: "Is some one there?" A thud. "Is one knock to be the sign for 'yes'?" A thud. "And two for 'no'?" A thud. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, shall we ask the guide to put us into communication with the spirit of some great one passed over?" Frink mumbled. Mrs Orville Jones begged, "Oh, let's talk to Dante!
As he was leaving the club Babbitt heard Chum Frink protesting to Gunch, " don't know what's got into him. Last Sunday Doc Drew preached a corking sermon about decency in business and Babbitt kicked about that, too. Near 's I can figure out " Babbitt was vaguely frightened. He saw a crowd listening to a man who was talking from the rostrum of a kitchen-chair. He stopped his car.
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