Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1945-05-11

eAA~ g. oAAoA Liz N1SSo1llllCh xtCoR.
er was now doing the work. Com
bines, carrying six head Of mules,
clattered across the fields.
A change had come for me, too.
For when milking time came, I
found / was not expected to take a
bucket and march to the milk lot.
was becoming lefty man." In
other words, just about useless!
found also change in our FAM
lily life, distinction that was subtle
and important. My mother had al
ways sat at the side of the table next
to the kitchen, so she could Jump
up and run in," but now, through
some unspoken family arrangement,
Phebe did not move into her place
but sat at the foot of the table.
At the end of supper, Pa spoke Of
something that was on his mind. Had
l decided wanted to come back to
the farm? Simple as this seems, it
moved me deeply; for 1 realized
more sharply than ever the cleav-
age had come.
81. I want to 60 to New York"
The old gentleman looked up to
see if was pranking. 1t was mo-
ment before he could speak.
Have you fully made up your
mind?"
Yes :" I choked out.
He did not speak for much long
er time. II won't oppose it," he
said finally.
I'D like you to go to your moth
er's grave before you co." he said,
later.
We got in the buggy and drove to
the knoll where the pioneers lie. The
graveyard is in the middle of the old
Cain farm; cornfields come up on
two sides, and on one side is pas
ture. There are maple trees which
reach protectingly over the graves,
and there is hog-tight fence to
keep out the stock. In winter rab-
bits skip across the graves. In sum-
mer the corn whispers and the grass
is exceedingly green.
We stood beside the grave. "She
was always a good mother to you,"
he said.
1t came time to 60. "You drive
and I'll shut the gate" he said.
But unconsciously he did oppose
my going during the following days.
Things were going well, he said; he
had bought some land on the north
and some on the east; the farm
was expanding; his idea of swing
ing over from corn to cattle farm
ing was working out. City life was
perilous. You could be fired out Of
a job; then where would you be? On
farm you could be independent.
No man was your boss. If you
worked hard and were honest, you
could build up a farm that would
take care of you in your old days.
The appeal was powerful, but
there also was the desire to do the
kind of work I wished to do. More
and more my mind was filled with
fancies; I seemed always to be
thinking how I would write this SEN
tence, or why that word wouldn't
serve, or how I could describe the
people knew and, possibly, make
readers see them as I did. And
those people began to appear in
storie in my mind.
One cay in Booth Harrington I
found something that expressed ex-
actly what l felt, but hadn't been
able to put into words: 81 try to
write in such way that there is no
film between me and my reader"
l knew instantly that was the way
wanted to write, SO easily and
naturally that the reader would not
be conscious of any style at all, only
of what I was trying to say.
Going to New York meant more
preparation than going to St. Joseph,
or to the university, or to St. Louis,
so we drove to town and bought
steamer trunk, and the old tin cam
el-backed trunk went into Pas
room.
When the day came the three of
us went to the depot and stood wait
ing for the train to come. When it
was time for me to get on, Pa held
out his hand LET US hear from
you whenever it's convenient"
AS 1 pressed my face to the win
dow l could see the two standing
alone on the platform.
When l got to New York, had
the same sinking feeling of made
quacy that l had had when l had
started to high school and when
had gone to St. Joseph and later to
St. Louis. Maybe I had better re-
turn home and help on the farm. But
again there was that inner impulse
to do what I so deeply wished to do.
So l had some cards printed at a
hole-in-the-wall place and went to
the address 1 knew so well on La
fayette Street. was surprised when
I saw the Puck building. Why, it
was just big red brick building!
Not an edifice at all. But that was
all right. It was the habitat of an
editor; man who had been buying
my contributions and printing them
for all the world to see.
At the entrance were two stone
columns, one on either side of the
main door; and there was a most
impressive gold statue of Puck look