My Ántonia

LAST summer I happened to be crossing the plains of Iowa in a season of intense heat, and it was my good fortune to have for a traveling companion James Quayle Burden—Jim Burden, as we still call him in the West. He and I are old friends—we grew up together in the same Nebraska town—and we had much to say to each other. While the train flashed through never–ending miles of ripe wheat, by country towns and bright–flowered pastures and oak groves wilting in the sun, we sat in the