Here
the land lay flatter than elsewhere; the sky came closer, with a gentler
benediction; the breeze blew in, laden with keener spices; there was the
flavor of apples and the smell of the walnut and a hint of coming frost;
the immeasurable earth lay more patiently to await the husbandman; and the
whole world seemed to extend flat in line with the eye--for this was
Carlow County.
All at once the anger ran out of John Harkless; he was a hard man for
anger to tarry with. And in place of it a strong sense of home-coming
began to take possession of him. He was going home. "Back to Plattville,
where I belong," he had said; and he said it again without bitterness, for
it was the truth. "Every man cometh to his own place in the end."
Yes, as one leaves a gay acquaintance of the playhouse lobby for some
hard-handed, tried old friend, so he would wave the outer world God-speed
and come back to the old ways of Carlow. What though the years were dusty,
he had his friends and his memories and his old black brier pipe. He had a
girl's picture that he should carry in his heart till his last day; and if
his life was sadder, it was infinitely richer for it. His winter fireside
should be not so lonely for her sake; and losing her, he lost not
everything, for he had the rare blessing of having known her. And what man
could wish to be healed of such a hurt? Far better to have had it than to
trot a smug pace unscathed.
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