"Why he?"
"Because he will harmlessly represent the metaphysical genus, for nobody will ever understand him."
"Musicians twelve?"
"Chosen for the same reason as the players," said Cosmo, rapidly writing down twelve names because they were not easy to pronounce, and handing them to Smith, who duly copied them off.
When this was done Cosmo himself called out the next category—"'speculative geniuses.'"
"I mean by that," he continued, "not Wall Street speculators, but foreseeing men who possess the gift of looking into the 'seeds of time,' but who never get a hearing in their own day, and are hardly ever remembered by the future ages which enjoy the fruits whose buds they recognized."
Cosmo mentioned two names which Joseph Smith had never heard, and told him they ought to be written in golden ink.
"They are sui generis, and alone in the world. They are the most precious cargo I shall have aboard," he added.
Smith shrugged his shoulders and stared blankly at the paper, while Cosmo sank into a reverie. Finally the secretary said, smiling with evident approval this time:
"'Society' zero."