Evening star., 1932-05-27
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL,

The romance of railroading Is solid
ly based on the emotions of mankind.
One has but to 60 to Union Station
to understand anew the sentiments Of
departure and farewell.
Then the visitor, waving goodbye as
the train begins to slide, may wish that
he, too, were on his way back to the
home folks.
One understands why Caruso wanted
to die In Italy. It is an emotion which
defies success, time or place, position
or power.
1t may be met in the most unex-
pected way. simply by going over and
watching train pull out, with all its
accompaniment Of white steam, the
conductors "All aboard!', the quick
disappearance of the small yellow steps
from the platform, the smooth roll of
the long train itself.
Here under the umbrella sheds, to
the tune Of hiss and roar, the one left
behind suddenly finds himself saying
to himself, and much to his own amaze
ment, Il wouldn't mind II were going,
too"
1t is confession out OF the depths.
What! Would one leave this city,
dear since childhood days. to return to
the land Of ones birth, the far State,
the free State, which the hardy pioneers
established?
Yes, one could, because they are
ones own folk.
And are not these people here ones
own folk, too?
Yes, but
And the train gathers momentum
and shortly is down the track, going
out into the yards, soon to be entirely
free OF the great city. and bowling
along with rhythmical clackity-clack
as it speeds on its way West.
The romance Of railroading flowers
from hard labor and applied science
The dew which waters 1t is the love of
home, an ingredient Of most human
souls.
Is home" the place one was born,
or the place one happens to be?
Men have held different ideas Of
home. and. curiously enough, all of
them are more or less correct, accord
ing to the time and special circum-
stances which surround them.
Heaven Is my home" went the old
hymn
In a sense, that must be right. but
the bulk of mankind has chosen rather
to confine the definition Of home to
this mundane sphere.
Any old place I hang my hat is
home to me-" went popular song of
several yesteryears.
This is a special temperament, the
gift of the Creator to the roaming dis
position. Many persons OF other natural
inclinations nevertheless work up a
good share Of this special temperament,
finding it helpful to them, in abating
the pangs Of homesickness.
How can family whose work calls
for different residence every three or
four years come to have much regard
for any one place?
They cannot. and do not and hence
do rot make good community dwellers
tending to hold too lightly those things
in which the permanent resident be-
lieves with heart and soul.
They cannot, for their own protection
and. once this is understood. the true
home lover may forgive them much.
mon one In ratio to various elements
which differ widely with various human
beings. so that there can be no exact
ness here. a person will become
attached to a certain place for no par
ticular reason. as far as others can see:
indeed. sometimes as far as he can see
himself.
The fact is that he has created for
himself, and maybe few others. a
certain atmosphere about every common
thing which sets 1t of from other
things identical
1t is said that Robert Louis Stevenson
transmitted the seriest mud puddles Of
his childhood wanderings in Edinburgh
into some Of the most felicitous OF
his essays.
He knew just where the Twenty-third
Psalm came to earth. and could point
out the green pastures in all their glory
One does not have to be another