The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-11-08

of incense She strewed her gentle ways with od- fashioned fragrance that came wonderfully somehow of her hands she moved about her quiet sitting room out of her dress she rusted from the range to the geraniums in the window out of the copper red tumult of her hair. Jim's mother more than pretty she was sweet and wise. She was twenty three years old.
 Her life had been rich in work and poor in nothing but money. When Jim Cloud, property and stage carpenter With "The Lily and the Princess" passed through the little Iowa town, Verbena Mae Holly had fallen partly in love with glamour and partly in love with good year after she had run away and married him, the glamour faded and the good died. With common sense her tool and the baby as something to work for she moved into Ninth Avenue and began helping several wardrobe misresses with their sewing and with other odd jobs around the theaters She was young enough to dream and old enough to make sturdy soldier of herself whom the neghbors called 'pore, pitiful little thing"
 That night Jack Hodge shaved dressed himself gal lantly temporarily forgot his hatred of the city, and went down to compliment her her verses He never stopped consider it necessary to introduce him. self: He felt as if he had known her all along. Perhaps he had Perhaps pollen isn't accidental thing in this world bees and botansts would have us think
 Sometimes - not often enough it is rue-in the eternal jigging of life the right meets the left the positive pole the negative, the button the current; and when it does work begins and songs sung sweetly in the morning, the and the evening air.
 Be sure, after all, that love has its and youth its season. and that these aromatic spirits combined will pungently dispe the duness of humdrum labor, the weariness of eyes out with illdrected seek ing the ache of heads that throb with illdrected thinking.
 Ut isn't yow love-" said Jack Hodge last fierce eyed humor, and humping her plain little dn- ing-room table grandly. "It's what you stand for the big open country full of sky and sunshine. Some thing about you reminds of all that. think it's your eyes, and maybe your voice. /You-you've got I need it in my work-oh, I'm selfish, know hope am. hope I'm superman By God, there times times feel like Ike The rlpernan & ran a super it's something you've brought into my lfe."
 T hope have: said Jims mother, simply. Be if I have, I've brought it at the right time You needed it right Jack, before you got hard and set and-mediocre. Every young needs it while he's flexible while he's strong-but soft-in his spirit gets brittle and their hearts get know feel that way too" She laid a Hand on his arm.
 The superman was staring straight at her, his eyes glowing with pity "God, m fed sorry for some peo- sands of them young fellows and girls, right here in this city, hammering away at the wrong thing eat their failure, when, if they could only get lit tie light-f some one like you would come to them and show 'em--the way you showed me-they'd sec they wasting themselves here; pounding sand in a rat hole!"
 She took it up. Beating against the wrong door New York isn't the right door for all of You said something the other day about parasites You're right There are too many of us here. We can't get in. There isn't room for us. And where there isn't wrote about the clover I-Id rather be back there, somewhere. I wouldn't be a failure back there
 
 little people, And I'd be happier"
 The war horse in him stomped ,ferociously at her words. Little people? don't think I'm little peo- pie. I think this Godforsaken city is full of little people. That's what's the matter with it. And the 5 ep % r1 sre o H swung his big arm toward the West, felt it touch something, and gathered little Jim absent-mindedly into his lap There's out there for big people and, by God, I'm going back to be of them. If stayed here and made good I'd only get out of here, anyway when I'd done it. And I just simply dout living feel as if I were tainted already" he concluded,
 "You're not!" she exclaimed. You're just the be" She stopped. suddenly, and remembered something with a blush. PIt what she stood for, not her, that he wanted
 "Yes, am-tainted. I've been inhaling too much of this studio gas.' Being his favorite topic, he breathable air of the culture of this town. The rotteneSt sham perpetrated healthy back in my country what joke this literary air is that they're all yearning for. Every big hearted fellow out there-not only the writers, the other fcl- lows. toos just crazy to get to New York and min- gle with the gods. He doesn't know how much it will pull him down. He doesn't know how mean and small. and nasty. and stngy the whole game is here and he wouldn't believe it if you told him. For, if you've got the idea that you write, you going to come to New York and write At first you'll write literature you'll write cttres-pretty let ters! Then you'll write magazine slush then you'll write ads.
 just little bit than you make: you'll get sick and dssusted with New York. You'll snarl yourself all up in knot of introspecOn. You'll get to be jim dandy expoarder of rags, jags and nags. All this will go on inside yourself Your fri beg your pardon. we're in New Yorl-your acquantances won't know what is the matter with you: but your soul stomach is sick. You're the salt of the earth but in New York that salt has certainly lost it's savor If you're worth while you'll get out If you're not worth while you'll also get out. Some people are neither. and stay.
 When fellow from my country comes here he do~Sl't know that he's leaving the juice of a real humanity for tho suckel-out fruit of fake culture. But he is. I've watched e cor,ings and gongs of