The dust and heat, the burning wind, reminded us of many things. While the train flashed through never-ending miles of ripe wheat, by country towns and bright-flowered pastures and oak groves wilting in the sun, we sat in the observation car, where the woodwork was hot to the touch and red dust lay deep over everything.
He and I are old friends–we grew up together in the same Nebraska town–and we had much to say to each other. LAST summer I happened to be crossing the plains of Iowa in a season of intense heat, and it was my good fortune to have for a traveling companion James Quayle Burden–Jim Burden, as we still call him in the West. TO CARRIE AND IRENE MINER In memory of affections old and true
0 kommentar(er)
