"By which you mean a day-laborer, I judge."
Parks ignored the interruption and went on:
"He must have eloquence, courage, and he must understand men; he must be a statesman by nature--a man of brains. But he must be one of the class he addresses."
"But how are you going to get a man of brains out of that class?" I inquired.
Parks struck the table a sounding blow with his fist, shook his head until his shock of hair stood out in protest, and glared at me fiercely.
"Do you mean to deny," he began hotly, "that brains are born to what you call the lowest classes? Do you deny the divine spark of intelligence to the sons of toil? Do you say that genius is sent to the houses of the rich and not to those of the poor? Do you dare to say that the son of a banker may have brains and that the son of a hodman may not?"
"By no means, my dear fellow. I only say if he has brains he won't be a hodman."
"I've known some pretty smart hodmen in my time," said Clark, when he saw that Parks had no answer ready. "I knew a fellow who made four hundred dollars on a contract. But," he added regretfully, "he lost it in stocks."
"I'm afraid that instance doesn't prove anything, Clark," said Merwin with a thin laugh. "He should have had brains enough to keep out of stocks."
"There's not many as has that," said a heavy-jowled Englishman who sat across the table. "I wish I had 'em myself."