What a fairy story the history of Harvey would be if it should be
written only as it was. For one could even begin it once upon a time.
Once upon a time, let us say, there was a land of sunshine and prairie
grass. And then great genii came and set in little white houses and new
unpainted barns, thumbed in faint green hedgerows and board fences, that
checkered in the fields lying green or brown or loam black by the
sluggish streams that gouged broad, zigzag furrows in the land. And upon
a hill that overlooked a rock-bottomed stream the genii, the spirit of
the time, sat a town. It glistened in the sunshine and when the town was
over a year old, it was so newly set in, that its great stone
schoolhouse all towered and tin-corniced, beyond the scattered outlying
residences, rose in the high, untrodden grass. The people of Harvey were
vastly proud of that schoolhouse. The young editor and his wife used to
gaze at it adoringly as they drove to and from the office morning and
evening; and they gilded the town with high hopes. For then they were in
their twenties. The population of Harvey for the most part those first
years was in its twenties also, when gilding is cheap. But thank Heaven
the gilding of our twenties is lasting.
It was into this gilded world that Grant Adams was born. Suckled behind
the press, cradled in the waste basket, toddling under hurrying feet,
Grant's earliest memories were of work--work and working lovers, and
their gay talk as they worked wove strange fancies in his little mind.
It was in those days that Amos Adams and his wife, considering the
mystery of death, tried to peer behind the veil. For Amos tables tipped,
slates wrote, philosophers, statesmen and conquerors flocked in with
grotesque advice, and all those curious phenomena that come from the
activities of the abnormal mind, appeared and astounded the visionaries
as they went about their daily work. The boy Grant used to sit, a
wide-eyed, freckled, sun-browned little creature, running his skinny
little hands through his red hair, and wondering about the unsolvable
problems of life and death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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