Show t. t IN THE VALLEY OF THE MOUNTAINS 1 The subject of this sketch is a little town in the Valley of the Mount Mount- ains It is no place of pilgrimage for the traveler nor is it a summer resort for lor the pleasure seeker It lacks even the interest of the new mining camp higher up the valley for it has never made the fortune of anyone T 1 hough Though in the midst of mountains it is commonplace in looks and has not so much as a a hole in the ground that might be called a mine is a farming and ranching town drowsing near the railroad railroad railroad rail rail- road in the shadow of a big towering lava-colored lava ledge It has perhaps per perhaps per per- haps a half hundred houses squat y dust covered Just above the houses the mountain stream which the railroad fol follows di divides divides divides di- di vides and the farms of the people make ragged strips of green along the two branches Land and hillside which the water has not been made to reach is still a barren waste of rocks and sage If you approach the town by the highway you will crawl in a cloud of dust along the foothills above the water ditch The land below the water ditch that ditch that capable of cultivation is is altogether too valuable to serve as wagon road But if as is most likely you approach by rail you will pass through fields as fresh and green and as like home-like with browsing cattle as any you have ever seen in a a. watered rain-watered country At Atthe Atthe Atthe the small station where the highway and th the railroad drawing together form two of the three or four streets of the town you mar marvel el again at the green Low shade trees line the ditches along the edge of the of-the the sidewalks hardy fruit trees and bits hits of lawn and beds of of- pansies brighten every yard Brave people those who have redeemed and made green green- that mountain waste But after all it is a grim patchwork sort of green and you have eyes mostly for for- forthe the black bulky ledge that lifts itself above the town Under the ledge in those dusty patchwork streets life go goes s forward lazily The daily trains bring whiffs of war and politics but the but interest interest erest I thus aroused is temporary the staples of talk are the price of beef live weight and the possibility of damage for cattle killed on the railroad The yearly round of work never varies varies there there is the planting of grain and the cleaning out of ditches when the snow is gone the irrigating of crops during the spring and early summer the harvest harvesting ng in the autumn the up of cattle before snow flies and in the winter the feed in up of beef for market and the loafing about the town store Though it seems a narrow existence it proves engrossing people do not often pull up stakes and and move The young men of the town occasionally occasionally occasionally occa occa- venture to the mining camp up the canyon to drive team on onore onore onore ore wagons but they rarely go further away Their ambition is commended commended com coin mended only within limits If one o of them leaves home for a city high school he is praised if he should afterward go to a normal school his wisdom would be questioned and if he should hould after that enter college he would be sure enough rennin the thing into the ground And yet inconsistently perhaps there is not a family in that would not make a tremendous sacrifice to keep a son in college All growth is outgrowth In my boyhood not so very far away the town in the valley of the mountains compassed my world The streets were not the the- houses not low Mightily important in my eyes was everything that belonged to the place And now now after after a afew afew afew few years it it is insignificant petty the the name itself except for my visits there two summers ago is scarcely more familiar to me than to the reader I have been wondering where it came from from from- whether it fits in meaning the town I remember or the ragged streets and houses and dusty eyed dull-eyed people the people the town I saw It was to be he expected I suppose that town and people should seem different to me But why should I have seemed different to the people No one I think could have gone to his boyhood village with more good feeling than I. I Why was my feeling not understood I recalled the warmth of former receptions the receptions the hearty shakes hand-shakes of farmers the greetings of little boys and girls whom I recognized by their resemblance to older brothers and sisters I recalled especially the interest of my old school teacher who always u used ed to ask about my Latin and algebra and who always boasted to the bystanders that I would amount to more than all the rest of his pupils put together Other interests engross my teacher now I fo found nd him running the town store and much less eager to hear of the doings of his former pupil than to trade soap for Holland Marys Mary's butter and eggs During my stay I climbed to the top of the ledge behind the town In my early years it had been my favorite retreat I used to go there to dream of the world beyond the blue mountains at the end of the valley How low those mountains looked now I wondered why I had never ridden my pony across them And how narrow and sage-brush sage crowded were the fields A cloud of dust in the distance followed a farm wagon toward the handful of houses There was no need to be nearer to know what it was was was-a a sullen farmer a tired mother with a baby hugged close in her arms in the rear of the wagon two other children babies also in size but army army generals in expression expression on on their way to market market to to o trade butter and eggs with my old schoolmaster Not even the freight train dragging up the steep grade through the valley brought life into the scene Things pass I suppose and come not back again Age musses its itson own o dreams in trying to live again the experiences of youth And so it was with me One consolation however my visit had I found that night in the valley had still kept its charm Even before the sunset glow had faded in the west the landscape softened and the hillsides and roadways became less bare and dusty Then as darkness gathered the mountains changed from ugly hulks of rocks to forms of wonder and beauty and power The heavens heavens bent closer and a million stars not glittering but with sober light strove to penetrate the infinity of depth above And finally as the wind started up and poured down upon the town there came with a rush of f memories the sound of running tumbling tumbling tumbling ing water water swelling swelling as the wind gathered volume into a reaching far-reaching roar receding as s the wind died cown down into toned clear-toned ripples then swelling again and nd so on through the summer night And under the stars and mountains and with that music soothing my ears I slept and dreamed of the dreams of boyhood boyhood of of the world and of the things in inthe inthe inthe the world for me to do R R. 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