332 Singing Valleys 



Finally, a relative of his managed to get transportation to 

 Europe and came to the hospital. All that he could say about 

 the eagerness of those at home to welcome the young man 

 back apparently did not rouse the injured man from his 

 apathy. But the wife of the relative had an idea. She sent a 

 cable to America and asked for one dozen ears of sweet corn. 

 They were sent over on the fastest ship in the refrigerating 

 room. When they were delivered at her hotel, the American 

 woman asked the manager to let her use the kitchen for half 

 an hour. There, with the French cooks watching curiously, 

 she boiled the corn. A taxi was waiting to take her and the 

 covered dish straight to the hospital. 



She fed that corn, buttered, salted and peppered, to the 

 man lying in the bed. After the third mouthful his face began 

 to work like a child's, getting ready to cry. 



"I didn't know till now that what's the matter with me is 

 that I'm just damn homesick." 



That man is a corn farmer now, somewhere in Missouri. 

 The ravages war makes are still on his face. But there is some- 

 thing else there, too. That is contentment. Very often, I think 

 for he is a thoughtful sort of person as he looks over his 

 acres of standing corn, he remembers those twelve ears of 

 sweet corn which literally saved his life by making him want 

 to see again and feel under his feet that land that could grow 

 them. 



