Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1923-03-07

oftener, until her visits left trail
through the house. John could not
scrub it away. Mary went to the
hospital, her eyes radiant with heav-
ems fever, and she never returned.
OF the four days that followed her
death, John retained only certain films
Of horror. A pink, puckered man.
child. placed in his arms a moment
and then taken away; black carriages
waiting before the house, coachmen
chosen from the village inebriates,
potted geraniums crowded in the liv
ing-room to emphasize the hideous
casket-these made him shade in an
unreal world, his home vanished. He
aged, and was silent After the black
est of these days. he remained through
the night on Cemetery hill, pacing,
bareheaded, crossing and recrOssing
the sacred earth that hid her.
He saw her as she had come to him
year before, with springtide trem-
bling in her touch, soft May-fire in her
eyes. Tonight in the darkness, be-
yond the faded hyacinths of older
sanctuaries, JOHN Lexington pressed
! his cheek to the grass, and his heart
broke. He lived again the manner of
her love, impetuous and golden. His
hands CROPPED out upon the sod. He
longed for her fragrant body. His
prayer for death was unanswered
and the morning robins whistled and
Knocked.
September came again to Dowagiac.
and John Lexington was only a name
there. Winter closed in, frightened
dragged past; and May arrived to
loosen the rheumatism in the house Of
the untidy woman who continued to
live next to a vacant house. Yet
another September came, and the
Lexington baby was becoming an old
and tiresome story. The city council
withdrew in favor of an orphans
home. This would be all the same to
little Con But before they could send
him away. his father appeared in town
John Lexington had darkened. He
was tanned about the eyes, and his
former bench-mates found him silent
He was lean, almost gaunt, and the
light in his eyes was dim and shifty
He had no more thought of verses
The tension at which he lived did
not produce rhymes. He claimed his
son and they set out together.
Con was soberly pleased. The fast
and noisy train was a miracle. Best
of all, he did not need to be undressed
Just at dark, which was the finest part
Of the day.
Chicago meant only rain and a sniff
of beer on Dearborn street. More
trains, warm weather, and sandwiches
with mustard.
In Memphis Con played with the
darky boys, while his father worked
on a truck. The juvenile blacks liked
the white infant, and tousled him with
friendly fists.
At the end Of the alley was high
board fence. The older boys were
always climbing over, but this was
denied Con. What was on the other
side? How many worlds of delicious
terror, and what passages in the gray
forbidden maze of Memphis? The
small white person pondered on the
alley stones, twisted his dress, and
shifted the sky.
He did not cry, because his father
would come soon and give him BATH,
and they would eat supper together.
With q few dollars saved, John
Lexington went on in the spring, and
the twO-year-Old rolled across the
plains in a day-coach, lulled by its
dusty rhythms, enchanted with the
reaches of space. Con discovered the
stars, but he was always too sleepy
to hold them, so the discovery was
endlessly new. Great snowy ranges
printed a wonder-stOry OH the fresh
mind; the monster rocks were fal
ulous in color and dimension.
A logging train carried them around
the swelling base of Shasta, to saw
mill. John found here a sharp renewal
of his anguish, his sensibilities quick
ened in the presence of the mountain,
his old grief yelling afresh in the
clean GOODNESS. He tOiled with the
loggers, while Con rode with the
driver OF the banty-engine, or helped
the horses uphill by shouting. The
great peak across the gulf of air be-
came a part of the boy. He breathed
it's purity. Men of the camp were
loud friends, the two women pleasant
large creatures. but the woods were
inexpressibly alluring, and the mount
afn-that was fnel Here he began
to know himself, to fix his own iden-
ity as something more than an answer
to the name Con. This food nourished
more than body.
When he was three. his father let
go their raoorings; the old tide of rest
less yearning swayed him, and they
went to San Francisco. John Loving
ton could not forget He drank as
other men drink, but no cup was deep
enough And there were other forms