Charlotte M. Higgins - "The Angel Children"

Frederick Orin Bartlett - "The Triflers"

Anonymous - "The Fox Jumps Over the Parson's Gate"

Thomas Hodgkin - "Theodoric the Goth"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

David Lannarck, Midget

G >> George S. Harney >> David Lannarck, Midget




Sam Welborn, the man from the mountains, enjoyed the Kid Show,
immensely. The trained cockatoos, the big snakes, the many freak
people, the brief but snappy minstrel show, were some of the varied
features. But best of all, Welborn watched the antics of his little
friend of the morning adventure. He came on the little stage, first as
a swaggering general, then as an admiral, last as a real doughboy of
the United States Army. Dancing, bowing, and waving the flag, he won
generous applause. Later, he came on as Cupid with bow and arrow, and
made some fine shots into a target representing a heart. His song
number was appropriate to this act.

Following this performance, David conducted his friend to the marquee
of the Big Show and passed him in to greater glories. "I will see you
before the performance is over," he said in parting.

The Big Show was not cut or curtailed. From the grand opening to the
closing number the full production was given without a hitch. Sam
Welborn, seated in the reserve section was back to boyhood days. He
watched the many features of the bewildering panorama with childish
enthusiasm. It was a great show. Just before the finale, he was joined
by his little friend.

"Our next stop will be the dining car," said Davy as they followed the
crowd out the main entrance. "I have something I want to talk over
with one of you Westerners and I think you are the man."

"Maybe I am not a Westerner," said Welborn quietly.

"Why you live out here, don't you?" retorted Davy.

"Yes, I live out here, a great ways out, clear out to the rim of
things. If it wasn't for the mountains hemming the horizon, our 'wide
open spaces' would be without limit. I live beyond the Medicine Bow
Mountains over next to North Park. My nearest neighbor is two miles
away. I am fifteen miles from a filling station."

"Why, I didn't know there was a place in America that was fifteen
miles from a filling station. The oil companies are surely overlooking
a bet. Anyhow, every word you speak confirms my opinion that you live
at the right place." The two had arrived at the dining tent where a
head waiter was assigning the guests to their places among the many
tables.

"We'll sit here, Tony, if you don't mind," said Davy as he ushered his
guest to a table apart from the rest. He carried a high chair from
another table and signaled a waiter. "This is what I have in mind, Mr.
Welborn; I want to run away--run away from the yaps and yokels and the
gawkers and get out where nobody can see me and where I can act just
like a man. I am twenty-nine years old. For fifteen years I have been
the 'objective' of the gawking squad. I'm sick of it. I want to run
away when I see a crowd coming. When I am on the platform, I see
nothing but dumb faces; if I am on the ground, I see nothing but legs.
It's too tough a lifetime assignment. You understand I am not
complaining of my lot as a midget, but I am fed up on the role. I want
a rest--a change. And just now, is a good time to make the change from
a game where I've grown stale. My financial affairs are in good shape,
thanks to one of the finest men in all America, and I want to lay off
this freak business until I can look on it without vomiting.

"Two things woo me to this country: your wide open spaces, where
seeing a human being is reduced to the very lowest limit; and second,
I find that in playing vaudeville houses in the winter time, I develop
a sinus trouble that sticks with me until I get back here to the
mountains where it disappears entirely. Yes sir! When I hit the table
lands of Denver, Pocatello, Casper, Rawling, Laramie, or this town,
old Sinus passes right out of the system. For the last five years I
have been planning to come to these Highlands and dig in--where
humanity is the scarcest. Just awhile ago, you described the exact
spot of my dreams. Now what's your reaction? Can I do it?"

"Do you mean that you would want to spend the winter with me, back in
the hills?" The big man's question was quietly put but he stopped
eating, awaiting the answer.

"Sure, that's what I mean. Next winter, next summer, and then some. I
want to get away from this," waving his hand in a circle to include
the showgrounds. "And get to that," and he pointed west. "I want to
get out where I can wear overalls; have a dog--or maybe five dogs--out
where I can ride a hoss and chaw scrap-tobacco and spit like a man. I
want to get away from being gawked at during all my waking hours. This
thing here, is getting on my nerves. I feel like I want to commit
murder when a simpering Jane looks at me, snickers and says, 'ain't he
cute?' I want a ball bat to club every country jake doctor that looks
me over and asks about my pituitary gland. Gee, gosh, but I do want to
get away from that. I want to exchange these human nitwits for cows,
calves, sheep, hosses,--broncho hosses, pintos--but not little
round-bellied shetlands. I want to boss around among chickens, geese,
turkeys, pigs--"

"How about a couple of burros?" interrupted the listener.

"That's it! Burros! I hadn't thought of burros--me on one of
'em--slapping with my hat to get two miles to the gallon! That's it,
burros! Two of them is better!"

"And how about snows? There may be a snow yet this month that is
deeper than you are tall."

"Whoopee for the snow!" yelled the midget. "Me with a mackinaw and
boots, and mittens and a shovel. Snow! Clean white snow! I love it!
But I haven't seen any clean snow for years. All that you ever see now
is the dirty slush that they scrape off the streetcar tracks. I sure
would be disappointed, Mister Welborn, if you didn't have a lot of
clean snow. And you have some sort of a shack, don't you? And we can
cut a lot of wood, and have plenty of blankets--en books and
magazines. And we can haul out a lot of grub, and a first-aid kit and
such. And you don't have a big family, do you, Mister Welborn, and I
wouldn't be much in the way, would I?"

"No, I am all alone," said Welborn trying as best he could to answer
the many questions. "I have no family and I do have a shack that is
very comfortable. It has a fireplace and a stove. I have plenty of
blankets and wood and grub. But what about sickness--home-sickness!
What about the terrors of loneliness that sometimes drive people mad!
The wide open spaces have their handicaps, as I well know. For a year
or more I have had just that experience. I have suffered, along with
the joys of being wholly alone. Truly, I went into it with a bigger
aversion to human society than you have, and I have not escaped.

"Yes, I have a shack, a good one, and a few score acres, but it's not
a ranch. It's not stocked, has no barn or stables, and no crop but the
native grass. It was a dreamer's plaything and I bought it with scant
savings that should have been spent on another project. But it looked
like I just had to own it in order to carry on."

"What's your other project?" asked Davy, curious to know why a man
with a ranch would not be ranching.

"Mining," replied Welborn. "Placer mining back in a canyon or gulch
that never felt a human footfall before I stumbled into it. It's a
limited thing--limited to this ravine that is not more than fifty feet
wide and a half a mile long. It was probably the old stream bed back
before the Tertiary ages, but when the troubled mountain took another
surge, it was left high and dry, twenty feet above water. I was
working it this summer but the little bear cubs took most of my time.
It takes a full day to lug enough water up to the canyon levels to
wash out a pan of gravel. It takes the big part of the day to lower a
sack of gravel down to the water, but at that, I have made wages. Now,
I have an old rocker that was abandoned in the stream bed, but I need
a pump so I can use the rocker right on the gravel bar. As it is a
one-man job, it should be a force pump with a gasoline engine. All
this costs money and it takes a long time to pan out enough dust to
pay the bill. Really I had the money, but I just had to spend it in
buying the cabin and land that was the only entrance to the placer
bed. I just couldn't work the one without owning the other. Then too,
I will have to blast a hole in the rock wall to get the pump located,
after that, one year is all I want. One year's work will clean up all
that one man ought to have. Of course I have practically lost this
summer on account of the bear cub capers, and winter is at hand, but
the outlook is better, thanks to your diplomacy and aid. With the
money, I can live this winter and accomplish many things. By spring, I
should be under full production."

"But you wouldn't stay up there in that solitude with no person around
but an old grouch that probably would not have a word to say for days
at a time?"

"Yes I think I would," said Davy slowly but firmly. "I think I can
risk my case as to care and friendship with a man who is considerate
to little bears."

Some of the circus people had finished the meal and were filing out of
the tent, but Davy stayed, grimly determined to win his point. "About
what would be the cost of this proposed mine equipment, and could I do
some ranching around there while this was going on?"

"I figure it will take three hundred dollars to buy the pump,
pump-jack and engine; these, with a few lengths of hose and some
dynamite, are all that's required. Of course there will be some labor
costs in getting the pump installed, but three hundred will pay all
bills."

"Is that all? Why we can get that amount from Lew up at the ticket
wagon. He will cash my check for that amount and be glad to do it.
Holdups, you know, pass up checks. Therefore, Lew likes checks. When
do you want it? Let's get it now while there is a lull in business,
and you can take the pump and pipe and other gadgets right back with
you in the truck."

"Do you mean that you will go with me--now--on the truck? It's more
than a hundred miles to Carter's filling station and fully twenty
miles more over the roughest roads--or rather no roads--to the Gillis
place and then two miles more. Why, it's an all-night trip if we were
to start right now!"

"No, I am to stick with the show to Omaha. We are to be in North Bend,
tomorrow; Grand Island, Friday; Omaha, Saturday; and then the payoff.
I will have some things to do in Omaha. I want to telephone home and
ask about some friends; I will talk to my financial boss and learn if
he is still weathering the financial storm and then I am ready for the
big jump out to your place. Can you meet me here with this
truck-trailer outfit, say about Wednesday? I will have about three
hundred pounds of baggage, and we must stock up with grub against
getting snowed in. Can you meet me here Wednesday? Or, if you are too
busy, can you send someone?"

"Why sure I'll meet you--Wednesday or any other day--here or any other
place you say." The man of the mountains was absorbing some of the
little man's enthusiasm. "Sure I'll meet you, but you work so fast and
drive right through that I can hardly keep up. Why, we hardly drive
through with one thing until you have another. If I seem indifferent
and not very responsive, it's because I haven't caught up yet. Think
of it! Ten hours ago I was coming out of the hills with a serious
problem that was hindering my work. Now, I am rid of the problem, have
ninety dollars in cash; have the offer of all the funds I need, and
prospects of a fine companion all through the dreaded winter. The
change from poverty to riches has been so rapid that it's more like a
dream than a reality. And here's the worst feature of the whole
business," continued Welborn as the two made their way to the ticket
wagon. "Here's the fly in the ointment. My side of the equation has
been nothing but plus, plus. I am fearful that yours will be more than
minus. You are tired of the mob; you want to get away from the crowds.
You have a mental picture of the ranching business; horses, cattle,
cowboys, knee-deep grass billowing through the great open spaces. It's
your dream to land right in the midst of such surroundings, and your
disappointments will be terrible to endure. I have no such ranch and
there's none nearer than ten miles of my place. Most of the cattle
nowadays are purebred; the cowboys are cow hands, feeders, and
care-takers--without a mount--and many of them never saw a pair of
chaps and few wear ten gallon hats like the picture books show. That
stuff belongs to the rodeos and dude ranches. Why the Diamond A Ranch
over on Mad Trapper Fork is a model for any manufacturing plant. It
has bookkeepers, salesmen, feeders from 'aggy' schools. You won't like
that; it's not up to the standards of your dream. Of course you will
like old Jim Lough of the B-line Ranch. He's ninety and used to be a
tough hombre of the old school. But now he's out of the picture, his
son Larry runs the ranch, and he is soon to give way to a young
college girl who is up on foreign markets and the like.

"My fears are that what you see and experience will not be the picture
of beauty and action that you had dreamed about. My poor little place,
without livestock or feed--or action--will be a terrible
disappointment."

"Well we will make a ranch out of it. The building of a ranch will be
more pleasure than the possession of the finished product," rejoined
Davy stoutly. "We will raise some feed, buy a few sheep and from there
on, watch us grow! But early in this venture, I must get me a pony--a
pinto, preferably--small enough for me to ride and big enough to go
places. Then I'm all set. Hi, Lew!" The midget had climbed up on the
wheel of the ticket wagon and was tapping on the window. "Cash my
check for three hundred dollars and meet my podner, Mister Welborn."

"Your partner in what?" queried the accommodating Lew, as he slid back
the window and began to count out the cash. "What's your racket now,
Prince? Have you hooked up with Ben-a-Mundi in that Crystal Readings
graft, or is it a short-change racket?" Lew aided Davy up to the shelf
where he could sign the check. "Better look out, Mister Welborn, your
partner here is a slicker--a regular city grafter. He skins his
friends just to keep in practice. Paying you this little lump is just
a bait. Later, he'll spring the trap for the big money." Lew slipped a
rubber band around the money and handed it to Davy.

"You had better look 'em over for counterfeit bills," retorted Davy as
he handed the money to Welborn. "This bird puts out more counterfeit
money than he does genuine. And say, Lew, you and Jess think of me
when you are huddled around the stove this winter with a lot of
razorbacks--me out in the great open spaces feeling fine, and clear of
mobs and nitwits. You fellows will have the razorbacks throw another
basket of cobs in the old smoky stove, and I and Mr. Welborn here,
will be toasting our feet before a log fire in the big fireplace--"

"Oh ho, it's that ranch thing that you have been chinning about for
the last five years," chuckled the treasurer of the Great
International. "How many calves will you brand next year? And where's
your chaps and your spurs? And say, that three hundred won't buy your
bridle, let alone a ranch and a hoss. You remember Carter, don't you,
Prince? The broncho-buster that we had in the grand opening last year.
Why his saddle cost an even grand and he paid fifty per for his
Stetsons. Where's your outfit, kid?"

"Why my outfit is still in the supply house in Omaha," countered the
midget. "I am to take it out when you and Jess come back through here
with the Adkins-Helstrom Great Congress of Living Wonders. I'll meet
you here on that date in my full regalia. Anyhow, much obliged, Lew,
and Mr. Welborn I will help you out with the car and trailer so that
you can load out tonight." Down at the edge of the lot where the city
streets pointed to the business district of the city, the ancient
model paused for the final conference between the new partners.

"Now what's your address, Mr. Welborn?" asked Davy, searching about
for pencil and paper. "If any of our plans go haywire, I would want to
let you know."

"And that's just another inconvenience in the business," replied
Welborn in a cautious manner. "My mail address is Adot. I get--"

"Adot? Adot? Where? What?" interposed the midget. "A dot on what?"
"The post office is Adot," replied the miner. "Capital _A-d-o-t_,
Adot. It was probably so named from its importance on the map. It's
just a wide spot in the road and a dirt road. We get mail twice a week
and I am fifteen miles away. Neither will the telegraph lines help;
there's no station nearer than this town. I have no telephone. The
only way I could be reached, would be for you to go to the
broadcasting station in Omaha and put through an S.O.S. on Tuesday
night, as I have a radio. But you would have to put the call in early
as I am going to be in this town bright and early Wednesday morning."

"That's the spirit," crowed the little man. "Both of us, right here in
Cheyenne, Wednesday morning. I will be here unless this Union Pacific
folds up and quits. Why when you come to think of it, I wouldn't want
to be where there was mail deliveries, telephones, and such; that's
what I am running away from, that and the mob. Good-by, Sam," he
called out, as the car took the green lights. "I'll meet you here on
the A-Dot."

"Good-by, Prince," said the big man as the car got under way.

That night, an ancient model T followed by a ramshackle, home-made
trailer, pulled away from the shipping platforms of the Cheyenne
Outfitting & Supply Company loaded to the guards with pump, pump jack,
pipe, lag-screws, wrenches, hand drills, dynamite, fuses and caps, and
a hundredweight of groceries. Cramped under the wheel, driving as
carefully as his cargo would warrant, sat Sam Welborn, the second
happiest man west of the Missouri. The happiest man west of the big
river was flouncing around in his berth on the third section of the
Great International Circus trains bound for North Bend, Nebraska,
planning his outfit to be purchased in a few days at Omaha.




3


An hour in advance of the arrival of the Pacific Limited, Sam Welborn
paced the platform of the Union Pacific passenger station at Cheyenne,
awaiting the arrival of his little partner from Omaha. He was a
different man in appearance from the one who, the week before, had
come down from the mountains in charge of two obstreperous bear cubs.
On that occasion, he had worn overalls, a sheepskin jacket, heavy,
clumsy shoes, and an eared cap of ancient vintage. On the day of his
appointment, he was dressed as the ordinary business man about to take
the train for Ogden or points west. His fairly well-worn, black,
pin-striped suit, neatly pressed, fitted his six-foot-two frame as if
built by a professional clothier; a rolled-collar shirt, a blue polka
dot tie, freshly shined shoes, and a soft crush hat completed the
outfit. Over his arm he carried an overcoat. Other prospective
travelers wore their topcoats, but Sam Welborn was of the outdoors.

He had parked the Ford with its trailer attachment at the west end of
the platform. If his partner's impedimentia was not too bulky, the
ancient model was ready for another trek to the hills. Back and forth
along the long brick platform he strode in the bright autumn sun. It
was no sloven's gait. An observer would have said that somewhere,
sometime, in his career of maybe thirty years, he had faced a
hardboiled old topper who insisted with piratical invectives that
"heads up, shoulders back, stomachs in" was the proper posture for
humans who were eating government grub and drawing government pay.

Very true, Welborn was not in immediate need of exercise. In the last
week he had worked, and worked hard, during every daylight hour. He
had not slept in the last thirty hours. But these were figments,
incidents, to be disregarded now that success was just back of the
curtain. Now he was to meet the little man who had made this prospect
of success possible. Now his greetings must be cordial and
appreciative. Nothing should be left undone to overcome the
disappointments the midget must endure. In his first meeting with
Davy, Welborn had tried to discourage the plan of "holing up" in a
remote section, far removed from the things to which he was
accustomed. He pictured himself as an old grouch, soured on the world,
and surely uncompanionable. He dwelt on the lonely hours, the big
snows, and other bad features but it was of no avail. Davy was on his
way. In other days, in vastly different surroundings, Sam Welborn had
known the tactful duties of a genial host; now he would revert to that
role.

David Lannarck was the first passenger to alight as number twenty-one
came thundering in from the east. The porter helped with his grips.
Davy searched the platform for his friend.

"Why, why, I didn't know you! You look like another fellow!" he
exclaimed, as Welborn reached for his grips. "You are younger, better
looking, different."

"I am younger, but not different," chuckled Welborn. "I've been taking
a tonic--the tonic of hard work. I've nearly completed my big job, and
I've located your horse for you."

"Hurray!" yelled Davy, "And can I get him right away?"

"There you go, jumping the gun again. Why that little horse is a
hundred miles from here. He's not broken to ride. He might not suit
your fancy, and it might take a lot of diplomacy to get him. He
belongs to a girl."

The baggage--two trunks, a showman's keyster, two suitcases, a big
duffle bag and handbags--was loaded on trailer and backseat. "Well, I
don't see much room for groceries," said Davy, as he climbed in.
"We've got to have pickles and beans, and plenty of vitamins and
calories to balance the ration. Really, before starting, I should have
consulted Admiral Byrd on outfitting a polar expedition. Aren't we to
stock up on food--here--or somewhere?" He questioned, as he noted
that Welborn drove across the tracks and away from the city.

"The eating question is practically solved," said Welborn. "Solved
through the providence and frugality of good neighbors. They are
overstocked and it's up to us to reduce the surplus. I took out rice,
sugar, salt, and a lot of extras on my last trip, and with their
surplus of meat, fish, fowl, flour, fruits--canned and preserved,
vegetables--canned and raw, we should live like pigs at a full trough.
However, if you need tobacco, chewing gum, toothpaste, any special
kind of medicine, we can get that at the Last Chance, further down the
road."

"No, I'll not need any such sidelines for many a week, but I thought
you said we did not have any neighbors? Who runs this fine market and
canning factory out in the wide open spaces?"

Welborn laughed. "Wait till we get out of this traffic and on a
straightaway; there's much to tell and we've got a lot of time. I have
arranged for dinner about twenty miles down this road, and we will
push things pretty hard this afternoon so that we can eat a late
supper right at this Market and then you will understand.

"You see, this old car, loaded like she is, and pulling a trailer, can
do about twenty-five miles per, on this federal road, but it's not all
federal road, and the last fifteen miles will take a lot of good luck
and fully two hours to make the grade. I would like to get home in
daylight."

The general direction of the national roadway, was west. The traffic
to and from Cheyenne at this noon hour was not heavy. Tourists were
still touring, notwithstanding the fact that this section of the
country might be snowed under at any time; truckloads of livestock,
were encountered, and far down the highway, where the traffic thinned
down, the partners met a big band of sheep that required care and
diplomacy in passing. Presently, Welborn turned the car into a
driveway at a neat farm home.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Yes, I am always hungry, although I had breakfast somewhere this side
of Julesburg."

"Well, I arranged for dinner here, and we will also stock up on gas
and oil for the long trek. Of course I carry an extra five gallons in
the can on the running board, but this is about our last place to
stock up on eats."

A woman came to the door. "You are right on time," she said. "I hope
you have brought your appetites, as the lunch is just ready."

Somebody was thoughtful; there was a high chair at the dining table.
After a very satisfying meal, Welborn shoved back his chair. He found
a piece of wrapping paper that he spread in front of Davy and drew a
rough map.

"We are near the line of two states," he said. "The Medicine Bow
Mountains are here. Geologists point out that this range so
interrupted the route of the Continental Divide that it turned it back
to the north in a big curve and made it hard to find. We go through a
pass in the range. On this side, we run into the little streams that
form the Laramie River. On yon side is the North Platte. Both run
north and both find sources in the North Park. Those who know, say
that for beauty and grandeur no section of the world beats the North
Park country. Personally I do not know, as my contacts have been
limited. It is said, too, that this is the northern limits of gold. At
this point, the mountains seemed to have changed their content, or
else those to the north were made at a different era. All these things
are speculative and have their exceptions, as I well know.

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