The times-news. [volume] (Hendersonville, N.C.) 1927-current, 1938-06-18

any real news, never Win du au-
dress to reply to. He wrote mere
lIv TO assure them he was alive,
fairly well, still going, dutfully,
! He never made mention of. Terry.
| How he lived no man can tell,
even those who have done, 1t
| themselves. II is one of those
small miracles of existence. He
found a vast company over the
and performing the miracle daily.
even as he. He learned from them
quickly what little he did not
| know.
The way of the yards and jun
giles: a tiny fire in gully or un-
der a culvert in the rain with a
battered pot boiling scraps of
food garnercd and begged and
| pilfered the company of
cast-offs of every degree through
| the night. huddled, with newspa-
pers stuffed in the clothes. close
| to the blaze. In the morning a
slow freight trundling through, or
long trek on the highway, with
few speeding motorists risking a
lift. If haste were any matter,
you might not wait till morning:
you might take the desperate
chance of freezing. of falling and
dying instantly, of capture and a
beating and sentence, by riding
the blind on a passenger train fly
ing on express schedule through
the night. The yard bulls ignored
the empties on freight, but they
were death on passenger trains
And then when you arrive, hop
ping off as the limited slowed
down approaching the yard, all
the chance was pointless, because
the new town was no different
from the last.
The way of the cities: the chart
ties, bitter as gall to a man who
had walked where he willcd in his
strength, and was weak now with
hunger the streets, where
hard faces rebuffed so awkward a
plea for a ciggaret, a meal . . :.
the agencies, where spiders rev.
eled in the dust and not even
pick and shovel stiff could take
on any more for as much as a
dollar a day. And then the cities
and towns where they accosted
you and asked questions and spot
ted you by the way you talked,
and grew -grimly hostile, as if
you were a foreigner and an en-
cmy, and gave you one hour to
get out of town back yonder
where you came from. The towns
where they asked no questions at
all, but hauled you in on sight,
with poke and a clip, and jam
med through hearing and SEN
tcnce, and put you to work for
punishment with foul food and no
pay :. when all a man wanted
was work. honest work, and a
chance to keep body and soul to-
gether.
1t was not easy to keep body
and soul together, with the cards
stacked against you.
Once on the national highway
in a central state Joe approached
a roadside gas station and lunch
stand just about dusk. He had
pulled out of the city behind him
early in the afternoon; it was an
important city, and the dusk was
a grayneSs streaked with the
streaming light of incesSant traf-
fic, cars that whirled upon one
bhndingly and were gone in a
blow of wind and fumes and hum
ming tires on concrete.
The city had been cold to him;
1t did not matter. No place mat
tered. The country was cold to
a man too, but man could try.
Rebuffs did not matter; they
bounced off, and a man went on.
Joe braced the restaurant keep
er for something to eat. 1t was
woman, an elderly woman, gray
haired and busy and thin, with
the look of one who has raised
her children and seen them go,
and now bides her time with her
patient husband. They were farm
ing people: they ran the stand
and the station between tending
the fields and the stock
Joe stood in the doorway of the
tiny shack housing the restaurant
and spoke his ritual, and he was
surprised at its reception. The
woman Strengthened up from the
stove, the old pot-bellied stove on
which was lavished for mere heat
lengths of beautiful native oak
and hickory. She looked at Joe
quickly, almost guiltily in all
seeming, and she told him to come
in, to sit down, near the heat, to
wait and she'd find something for
him.
Joe sat down. He was oddly
embarrassed. More oddly. the
woman seemed embarrassed. She
was brusque, slashing around the
| little place, talking about the
weather and poor conditions rat
Ting dishes. There was a feeling
in the room D.. a curious feeling
like a presence that you could not
place. e.,
There the old woman told
him, Pumping down a deep dish
of stew savory and full OF nour-
ishment. al guess you can make
out on that"
81 guess l cam" said Joe in a
certain tone. I'm mighty crate
full" ....-
She made an indefinite sound,
and he fell to eating without de-
lay. She sat down in a rocking
chair near the fire and watched
him.. He looked at her once OIL
twice, and was again embarrassed.
She watched him eat. There was
something, and he did not know
what it was. -