You see old Jerry Ott Had left a son his interest in the Eagle, And Cato Braden died right at his table While playing solitaire. This son came in And found him dead, a card clutched in his hand. The card was, strange enough, the deuce of clubs! This son was glad that Cato Braden died For now he runs the Eagle by himself. This Cato Braden had three strains of thought. I never met him lately but he talked Some one of them, at times all three of them. One was the American town must be improved, So better to conserve the souls and bodies Of boys and girls. And even when the movie, And other things of this day came along He still maintained they did not meet the case. He never said what thing was requisite. But in a general way I think he meant A stronger, and more truthful and more natural Outlook and attitude would save a town From dust, and mold and death. For once he said: “This winter I shall read Grote’s History.” He never read it. But I think he meant He would find out the secret of the Greeks. And then he’d say the young, the middle aged The old made separate spheres of feeling, thought; And that a town should not be ruled by one, Should not be governed as all folks were old, Or young, or middle aged, but each should have The town for his according to his age, And thought and vital power, within his sphere And period of life; these separate spheres Should move untroubled by the others, move Free, independent of the other spheres. I talked with Cato Braden for the last A week ago last night. He said to me: I wake these mornings lately with the thought Another chance will come to me, that death Will bring another chance. And then he said: This is the way of it. When you are young You say in five years I shall take a trip, See New York City, go abroad perhaps. When five years pass you do not take the trip. Then you say in a year I’ll take the trip. And so it goes, while you say in a year, Next year, next year, until at last you say No, never now! Well, now you’d think a man Would weep when he stands up against the wall, And knows he cannot climb the wall. But no, Something still whispers you will do it yet. And then you know it must be after death, In life again, the chance will come to you. For you know well it is not in this life. Then Cato Braden said: Not in this life Shall I read Grote, I could not understand it After these years in Winston Prairie--still I have a feeling I shall know about it Somewhere, somehow. You’d better catch your train. It’s good to see you. Up there in the city Think sometimes of the American village and What may be done for conservation of The souls of men and women in the village.” WINSTON PRAIRIE