I HAVE GONE
Charles Franey, as we have seen, was born in 1859. At that time nearly everybody in Canada or the United States lived on a farm, or got his living from one: You went to school for a few years, learned how to divide 1247 by 13, how to write a fair hand, and how to spell "niece" and "either." If you could construe a sentence, knew where Madagascar lay or who Shakespeare and Columbus were, so much the better. Then, by the time you were sixteen, you were ready for a little courtin', knowing that as soon as you popped the question, either her old man or yours would fence off the north forty and cut out a good bull and a few cows from the herd: The neighbors would come and build you some sort of house and barn, dance at your wedding, and shivaree you later in the evening while you were on the featherbed inside, fumbling with the buttons on the bride's new flannel nightgown.