The Call Of The Canyon, Zane Grey [good non fiction books to read txt] 📗

Realms Of Space. It Helped Her Somehow To See And Hear And Feel The Eternal

Presence Of Nature. In Communion With Nature The Significance Of Life Might

Be Realized. She Remembered Glenn Quoting: "The World Is Too Much With Us.

. . . Getting And Spending,  We Lay Waste Our Powers." What Were Our Powers?

What Did God Intend Men To Do With Hands And Bodies And Gifts And Souls?

She Gazed Back Over The Bleak Land And Then Out Across The Broad Sea. Only

A Millionth Part Of The Surface Of The Unsubmerged Earth Knew The Populous

Abodes Of Man. And The Lonely Sea,  Inhospitable To Stable Homes Of Men,  Was

Thrice The Area Of The Land. Were Men Intended,  Then,  To Congregate In Few

Places,  To Squabble And To Bicker And Breed The Discontents That Led To

Injustice,  Hatred,  And War? What A Mystery It All Was! But Nature Was

Neither False Nor Little,  However Cruel She Might Be.

 

 

 

 

 

Once Again Carley Fell Under The Fury Of Her Ordeal. Wavering Now,

Restless And Sleepless,  Given To Violent Starts And Slow Spells Of Apathy,

She Was Wearing To Defeat.

 

That Spring Day,  One Year From The Day She Had Left New York For Arizona,

She Wished To Spend Alone. But Her Thoughts Grew Unbearable. She Summed Up

The Endless Year. Could She Live Another Like It? Something Must Break

Within Her.

 

She Went Out. The Air Was Warm And Balmy,  Carrying That Subtle Current

Which Caused The Mild Madness Of Spring Fever. In The Park The Greening Of

The Grass,  The Opening Of Buds,  The Singing Of Birds,  The Gladness Of

Children,  The Light On The Water,  The Warm Sun--All Seemed To Reproach Her.

Carley Fled From The Park To The Home Of Beatrice Lovell; And There,

Unhappily,  She Encountered Those Of Her Acquaintance With Whom She Had

Least Patience. They Forced Her To Think Too Keenly Of Herself. They

Appeared Carefree While She Was Miserable.

 

Over Teacups There Were Waging Gossip And Argument And Criticism. When

Carley Entered With Beatrice There Was A Sudden Hush And Then A Murmur.

 

"Hello,  Carley! Now Say It To Our Faces," Called Out Geralda Conners,  A

Fair,  Handsome Young Woman Of Thirty,  Exquisitely Gowned In The Latest

Mode,  And Whose Brilliantly Tinted Complexion Was Not The Natural One Of

Chapter 10 Pg 172

Health.

 

"Say What,  Geralda?" Asked Carley. "I Certainly Would Not Say Anything

Behind Your Backs That I Wouldn't Repeat Here."

 

"Eleanor Has Been Telling Us How You Simply Burned Us Up."

 

"We Did Have An Argument. And I'm Not Sure I Said All I Wanted To."

 

"Say The Rest Here," Drawled A Lazy,  Mellow Voice. "For Heaven's Sake,  Stir

Us Up. If I Could Get A Kick Out Of Anything I'd Bless It."

 

"Carley,  Go On The Stage," Advised Another. "You've Got Elsie Ferguson Tied

To The Mast For Looks. And Lately You're Surely Tragic Enough."

 

"I Wish You'd Go Somewhere Far Off!" Observed A Third. "My Husband Is Dippy

About You."

 

"Girls,  Do You Know That You Actually Have Not One Sensible Idea In Your

Heads?" Retorted Carley.

 

"Sensible? I Should Hope Not. Who Wants To Be Sensible?"

 

Geralda Battered Her Teacup On A Saucer. "Listen," She Called. "I Wasn't

Kidding Carley. I Am Good And Sore. She Goes Around Knocking Everybody And

Saying New York Backs Sodom Off The Boards. I Want Her To Come Out With It

Right Here."

 

"I Dare Say I've Talked Too Much," Returned Carley. "It's Been A Rather

Hard Winter On Me. Perhaps,  Indeed,  I've Tried The Patience Of My Friends."

 

"See Here,  Carley," Said Geralda,  Deliberately,  "Just Because You've Had

Life Turn To Bitter Ashes In Your Mouth You've No Right To Poison It For

Us. We All Find It Pretty Sweet. You're An Unsatisfied Woman And If You

Don't Marry Somebody You'll End By Being A Reformer Or Fanatic."

 

"I'd Rather End That Way Than Rot In A Shell," Retorted Carley.

 

"I Declare,  You Make Me See Red,  Carley," Flashed Geralda,  Angrily. "No

Wonder Morrison Roasts You To Everybody. He Says Glenn Kilbourne Threw You

Down For Some Western Girl. If That's True It's Pretty Small Of You To Vent

Your Spleen On Us."

 

Chapter 10 Pg 173

Carley Felt The Gathering Of A Mighty Resistless Force,  But Geralda Conners

Was Nothing To Her Except The Target For A Thunderbolt.

 

"I Have No Spleen," She Replied,  With A Dignity Of Passion. "I Have Only

Pity. I Was As Blind As You. If Heartbreak Tore The Scales From My Eyes,

Perhaps That Is Well For Me. For I See Something Terribly Wrong In Myself,

In You,  In All Of Us,  In The Life Of Today."

 

"You Keep Your Pity To Yourself. You Need It," Answered Geralda,  With Heat.

"There's Nothing Wrong With Me Or My Friends Or Life In Good Old New York."

 

"Nothing Wrong!" Cried Carley. "Listen. Nothing Wrong In You Or Life

Today--Nothing For You Women To Make Right? You Are Blind As Bats--As Dead

To Living Truth As If You Were Buried. Nothing Wrong When Thousands Of

Crippled Soldiers Have No Homes--No Money--No Friends--No Work--In Many

Cases No Food Or Bed? . . . Splendid Young Men Who Went Away In Their Prime

To Fight For You And Came Back Ruined,  Suffering! Nothing Wrong When Sane

Women With The Vote Might Rid Politics Of Partisanship,  Greed,  Crookedness?

Nothing Wrong When Prohibition Is Mocked By Women--When The Greatest Boon

Ever Granted This Country Is Derided And Beaten Down And Cheated? Nothing

Wrong When There Are Half A Million Defective Children In This City?

Nothing Wrong When There Are Not Enough Schools And Teachers To Educate Our

Boys And Girls,  When Those Teachers Are Shamefully Underpaid? Nothing Wrong

When The Mothers Of This Great Country Let Their Youngsters Go To The Dark

Motion Picture Halls And Night After Night In Thousands Of Towns Over All

This Broad Land See Pictures That The Juvenile Court And The Educators And

Keepers Of Reform Schools Say Make Burglars,  Crooks,  And Murderers Of Our

Boys And Vampires Of Our Girls? Nothing Wrong When These Young Adolescent

Girls Ape You And Wear Stockings Rolled Under Their Knees Below Their

Skirts And Use A Lip Stick And Paint Their Faces And Darken Their Eyes And

Pluck Their Eyebrows And Absolutely Do Not Know What Shame Is? Nothing

Wrong When You May Find In Any City Women Standing At Street Corners

Distributing Booklets On Birth Control? Nothing Wrong When Great Magazines

Print No Page Or Picture Without Its Sex Appeal? Nothing Wrong When The

Automobile,  So Convenient For The Innocent Little Run Out Of Town,  Presents

The Greatest Evil That Ever Menaced American Girls! Nothing Wrong When

Money Is God--When Luxury,  Pleasure,  Excitement,  Speed Are The Striven For?

Chapter 10 Pg 174

Nothing Wrong When Some Of Your Husbands Spend More Of Their Time With

Other Women Than With You? Nothing Wrong With Jazz--Where The Lights Go Out

In The Dance Hall And The Dancers Jiggle And Toddle And Wiggle In A

Frenzy? Nothing Wrong In A Country Where The Greatest College Cannot Report

Birth Of One Child To Each Graduate In Ten Years? Nothing Wrong With Race

Suicide And The Incoming Horde Of Foreigners? . . . Nothing Wrong With You

Women Who Cannot Or Will Not Stand Childbirth? Nothing Wrong With Most Of

You,  When If You Did Have A Child,  You Could Not Nurse It? . . . Oh,  My

God,  There's Nothing Wrong With America Except That She Staggers Under A

Titanic Burden That Only Mothers Of Sons Can Remove! . . . You Doll Women,

You Parasites,  You Toys Of Men,  You Silken-Wrapped Geisha Girls,  You

Painted,  Idle,  Purring Cats,  You Parody Of The Females Of Your Species--

Find Brains Enough If You Can To See The Doom Hanging Over You And Revolt

Before It Is Too Late!"

 

 

Chapter 11 Pg 175

Carley Burst In Upon Her Aunt.

 

"Look At Me,  Aunt Mary!" She Cried,  Radiant And Exultant. "I'm Going Back

Out West To Marry Glenn And Live His Life!"

 

The Keen Old Eyes Of Her Aunt Softened And Dimmed. "Dear Carley,  I've Known

That For A Long Time. You've Found Yourself At Last."

 

Then Carley Breathlessly Babbled Her Hastily Formed Plans,  Every Word Of

Which Seemed To Rush Her Onward.

 

"You're Going To Surprise Glenn Again?" Queried Aunt Mary.

 

"Oh,  I Must! I Want To See His Face When I Tell Him."

 

"Well,  I Hope He Won't Surprise You," Declared The Old Lady. "When Did You

Hear From Him Last?"

 

Chapter 11 Pg 176

"In January. It Seems Ages--But--Aunt Mary,  You Don't Imagine Glenn--"

 

"I Imagine Nothing," Interposed Her Aunt. "It Will Turn Out Happily And

I'll Have Some Peace In My Old Age. But,  Carley,  What's To Become Of Me?"

 

"Oh,  I Never Thought!" Replied Carley,  Blankly. "It Will Be Lonely For You.

Auntie,  I'll