So now I was close to the three-farm
cluster. I listened intently for the horses' thump. Yes,
there was that muffled hoof-beat again--I was on the last
grade that led to the angling road across the corner of
the marsh.
Truly, this was very much like lying down in the
sleeping-car of an overland train. You recline and act
as if nothing unusual were going on; and meanwhile a
force that has something irresistible about it and is
indeed largely beyond your control, wafts you over mile
after mile of fabled distance; now and then the rumble
of car on rail will stop, the quiet awakens you, lights
flash their piercing darts, a voice calls out; it is a
well known stop on your journey and then the rumbling
resumes, you doze again, to be awakened again, and so
on. And when you get up in the morning--there she lies,
the goal of your dreams-the resplendent city...
My goal was my "home," and mildly startling, at least
one such mid-nightly awakening came. I had kept peering
about for a landmark, a light. Somewhere here in those
farmhouses which I saw with my mind's eye, people were
sitting around their fireside, chatting or reading.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69