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Wood, Eugene, 1860-1923

"Back Home"

And yet I don't know why we should
wonder, either. They all come from good old stock. The young
fellows run a little too strongly to patent-leather shoes and their
horses are almost too skittish for my liking, but the girls are all
right. If their clothes set better than you thought they would, why,
you must remember that they subscribe for the very same fashion
magazines that you do, and there is such a thing as a mail-order
business in this country, even if you aren't aware of it.
All the little boys in town are out with their baskets chanting sadly:
PEANUTS? FIVE A BAG
You 'll hear that all day long.
But there isn't much going on before the excursion trains come in.
Then things begin to hop. The grand marshal and his aides gallop
through the streets as if they were going for the doctor. The
trains of ten and fifteen coaches pile up in the railroad yard,
and the yardmaster nearly goes out of his mind. People are so
anxious to get out of the cars, in which they have been packed
and jammed for hours, that they don't mind a little thing like
being run over by a switching engine. Every platform is just one
solid chunk of summer hats and babies and red shirts and alto horns.
They have been nearly five hours coming fifty miles. Stopped at
every station and sidetracked for all the regular trains.


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