Last year I went up into New York State with a prominent public man, who was to make a speech. This man was delayed, and in order to get there he had to jump on the last platform of the last car. He had eaten no lunch, and only a light breakfast. He said he should surely fail in his speech because he was faint from lack of food. I asked him what he would eat if he had the chance. He said soup, half a chicken, potatoes and asparagus, and apple pie. I told the train boy to bring samples of everything he had, and we finally selected an apple from Oregon, a banana from Mexico, a box of figs from California, some pop corn from Massachusetts, chocolate from Venezuela, and salted nuts from Louisiana. The air and the sunshine and the water seemed to be produced in New York, but nothing else. A great dinner for a New York man, but to his surprise it satisfied him, took the place of the chicken, and carried him through his speech with a strong punch. It seems to me that one trouble with our nut propaganda is that we go at it in such a way that the pupils regard us somewhat as "nuts," and why should the man who becomes a specialist on any subject, and airs it on all occasions, be called a nut? We shall have to admit that men are called such names. I think it is because we let our brains work somewhat like the oyster or clam, and secrete a hard shell of formal knowledge around the sweet meat of condensed human nature, for that is what all useful knowledge is. We must crack our shell of formal knowledge and grind it up finer before we can put it into the think works of the plain people.