There is only
one other Californian product that can compare with him and that's the
Native Daughter. And as for the Native Daughter - - But if I start up
that squirrel track I'll never get back to the trail. Nevertheless some
day I'm going to pick out a diamond-pointed pen, dip it in wine and on
paper made from orange-tawny POPPY petals, try to do justice to the
Native Daughter. For this inflexible moment, however, my subject is the
Native Son. But if scenery and climate - and weather even - do creep in,
don't blame me. Remember I warned you. Besides sooner or later I shall
be sure to get back to the main theme.
In the January of 1917 I made my annual pilgrimage to California. On the
train was a Native Son who was the hero of the following astonishing
tale. He was one of a large family, of which the only girl had married a
German, a professor in an American university. Shortly before the Great
War, the German brother-in-law went back to the Fatherland to spend his
sabbatical year in study at a German university. Letters came regularly
for a while after the war began; then they stopped. His wife was very
much worried. Our hero decided in his simple western fashion to go to
Germany and find his brother-in-law.
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