Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-08-25

Only with the guides who piloved him sbout
the palaces and cathedrals did he exchange
conversation, and from THIN, since he was
generous with tips, he won especial attention
and privileges. And though Angelo, Giotto,
Correggio, and Giorgione were less than names
to Jem Brown the sincerity Of their achieve
ments was as a bridge to carry him back home;
a sculptured ~tracery Of leaves reminded him Of
certain trees on the windy ridges above Guayule
and brought a lump in his throat; "details of
clear color in a world-famous window danced
like the deep sparkle of sunlight in the pool at
Cypress Falls-and blurred before his gaze;
the starred ceiling of an Italian chapel was
but a pale imitation of the night sky above
Guayule: the gentle eyes of a painted madonna
were not so gentian-blue as Jennyis. In
a moment of panic he wondered if she was
safe beneath the c~ypresses-coyotes were such
inquisittiva marauders-then sternly dismissed
the thought.
But at dawn on the morning after his re-
turn to Guayule he awakened to see the first
pure light filter down through the pine branches,
to smell the incense of the balsams, and to hsar
the lifting ecstasy of a choir of meadow larks;
looking and listening, Jem Brown breathed a
deep sigh of ineffable content. He was safe at
last, safe. He never reopened the cache be-
low the spring-from which he had taken out
the ore which paid for his journey abroad; in
his mind that gold was conSecrated to cities, to
confusion, to progress. Jem Brown had done
what Jenny aslsed-but he had finished forever
with progress.
RUsKIN had SAID in Jenny's book: "Mcn tire
as they finish; and Jem Brown. Stun
bling up the slope of Guayule, was increasingly
convinced of the truth and wisdom of this
statement. He. who had thought himself i'm
- a-. .I:-> - .-s-I no
weather, had come to discover nature too
boisterous for him. True, 40 years had passed
since he came back from his one journey away
from the mountains-but what were 40 years
. and yet during that final climb Of his
life, the unnoted years caught up with him.;
he was almost ready to compromise.
Now that his life was so nearly over he pom
~dered-divided between elation and resentment
upon what had happened to mans invention,
progress. that, for so long a period. his life's
path had gone by unpunctuated by one of her
devastating milsstones. Progress would need
to hurry if she held anything in wait for him
now! "She's welcome to do her worst!" he
muttered aloud.
Three days later he regretted his challenge;
half-awaken.ng from faverish slumber, he
blinked incredulously at a strange, far-away
sound. Remote at first, then drawing slowly
nearer, there was about its rhythmic, pulsing
steadiness something appalling, threatening and
sinister.
Fcverishly, he tossed and turned, trying to
escape from the enveloping sound. Was this,
perhaps, what was meant by illness; all sorts Of
breathless, groundless, vain imaginings bred in
houses? Scornfully he derided himself for his
cowardice in coming indoors. This nose at
which he covered was thunder-thunder, which
had so often before volleyed and echoed in the
mountains during fisrce electrical storms. De-
family he raised his head. The sound was still
there. steady, regular, insistent-and near!
With terror the old man heard the sound Of
his first visitor, knocking; and saw the door
swing back.
A strange figure in leather clothes and a
be-goggled helmet stood in the opening, stared
into the dim cabin, breathed an exclamation Of
relief: Il was afraid that this place was de-
serted-and I'm miles off my course! I've
been trying for two hours to find a bare space
to come down in; it was just by the merest
chance that I saw this clearing-and none too
good a landing field at that! Can you tell me
where I am? What's the nearest town? He
stopped to look more closely at Jsm Brown.