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Show ilijlll III America Through a Train Window: The train clears its mechanical throat, rolls out of the depot, and the moving picture of passing scenery is framed in Pullman windows. win-dows. . . . Fragments of smoke cruising over sprawling war plants ; that dot the outskirts of the city. A ' peaceful industrial scene where weapons are born that wind up in the hell of war. . . . Neat suburban , homes on their best architectural behavior. . . . Church steeples pointing point-ing at the sky like hands in prayer. . . . Telephone poles whizzing by in Indian file. Birds perched on their wires like notes on a musical scale. 1 . . . The countryside knee-deep in Spring. A tapestry of greenery stretching toward the horizon. . . . Long lines of trees planted with Rockette precision bejeweled with ripening fruits. . . . Attractive lady train conductors. . . . Weary travelers travel-ers slumped in their seati marooned ma-rooned on an island of their thoughts. 1 Tree-lined amall town streets, each house ornamented with manicured mani-cured hedges. . . . Ribbons of roads wrapped around the landscape. They used to be covered with traffic, but now you can see miles of nude high-. high-. ways. . . . The eager anticipation in the orbs of servicemen on their way home to enjoy a furloaf. . . . The train gobbling up miles of space ai It roars through State lines. No passports pass-ports are needed to cross them. One j of the miracles too many Americans i take for granted. . . . The haze that floats over the grass at sunrise when Nature is still drowzy with morning. . . . Old, unpainted house! on the wrong side of the tracks making mak-ing their poverty public. . . . Miles of undeveloped land blanketed with forests between big cities. Places where Nature has room to stretch. The train whizzing by small, dusty stations surrounded by loneliness. You go by so fast you can't even I read the station's name. . . . Cows grazing in Ohio's pastures their tails continually swinging like a j baton. ... A feather of a breeze j tickling a lake causing it to dimple I with a million ripples. . . . Piercing train whistles punctuating the night with exclamation points of sound. ... Cross country trucks moving across the roads with the slow dignity dig-nity of glaciers. . . . The increased tempo of traffic that heralds the approach ap-proach to a city. A stretch of Oat land broken by the wide open mouth of a valley. . . . The lights of a lonely farmhouse twinkling in the dark night. . . . The train pulling into a station with the dignity of a dowager entering a tea party. . . . The eternal peacefulness of forests filled with a million leafy fingers reaching for the warmth of the sun. . . . Fields of wildflowers curtsying to the balmy winds. . . . Large signs announcing that you're about to enter this-or-that town. A sight as American as a home run. Tremendous ranches monopolizing giant slices of territory. Some are almost as large as a small European nation. . . . Skeletons of ghost towns slowly being turned into dust by wind and rain, remnants of the wild West. . . . Modern cowboys who now spend more time riding in station wagons than on hosses. . . . The brilliance of a Western night a dark-faced sky freckled with stars. Much poetry and many songs have been written in tribute to its overpowering over-powering beauty. But nothing can match the first-hand view of this shimmering phenomenon. . . . The many peaceful sights that make you think the war is very far away. But a plane drilling its way through the sky reminds you nothing is beyond the war's reach. . . . Peaceful Indians In-dians now selling souvenirs at railroad rail-road stations. . . . Cattle herds in the sunset making a picture postcard to be filed in your memory. Desert nights filled with romantic mysteries. . . . When you see the gigantic natural obstacles that still exist in the West you are filled with renewed respect and pride for the pioneers who built a civilization on the foundation of blood, sweat and tears. . . . Tiny villages with less population than in a Big Town apart-! apart-! ment house. . . . Head waiter smiles j of train porters. . . The Deisel engine entering a tunnel with a loud cry, dragging the serpent of cars behind it. . . . The sage brush country, coun-try, with an occasional motorist providing pro-viding the only sign of life. . . . Tired tourists chewing the fingernails of their patience, eager to arrive at their destination. . . . Hot dog stands planted in the middle of nowhere. The billboard advising motorists: "This is God's Country. Don't Drive Like Hell" . . . The Chicago skyline resembling an unfinished jigsaw puzzle. . . . Train-sitters trying to whittle away time by playing cards, gabbing, reading, or just staring at a pretty gal across the aisle The mid-West's gigantic fertile fields America's breadbasket. . . . A bonfire of sunlight slowly raising its head over roundshouldered hills. Traveling salesmen In club cars nibbling on bits of conversation conversa-tion about tiresome matteri. |