THREE QUIET DAYS 



Wednesday the seventh. 



At breakfast this morning the artist commented to Mr. 

 Johnson on the excellence of the Shakespeare he had handled the 

 evening before, and found he had touched a match to a mine. 

 Comment, quotation and counter quotation, appreciation of 

 characters, and anecdotes of great players were exchanged from 

 the ends of the table, with a reciprocal pleasure and something 

 to the tolerant amusement of those who listened to the Shake- 

 speare fans' diversion. 



On this bleak hillside lives this man, face to face each day 

 with the stern necessity of merely living, on ground so high that 

 little save prairie hay may be raised during a growing season 

 a little over eight weeks 

 long; hardened with toil and 

 exposure to weather whose 

 grim bitterness in winter 

 can be but faintly imagined 

 by the city dweller in a 

 heated flat ; remote from any 

 town — his nearest railway 

 point thirteen miles away — 

 and a train there during 

 seven months of the year 

 only; his neighbors, a mile 

 on either side, too engrossed, 

 as himself, with the daily 

 work of living to have time 

 or inclination for the cultiva- 

 tion of a kindred taste. 

 In this mental and physical 

 isolation, amid the hardships 

 and unending daily toil of 

 the pioneer ranchman, he 

 has found opportunity to make himself a scholar of the great 

 dramatist, whose direct and familiar acquaintance with and 



"Snowshoe" Johnson 



Page 99 



