IF Leroy Brainard had not had such a respect for literature, he would
have written a book.
As it was, he played at being an architect -- and succeeded in being a
charming fellow. My sister Jessica never lost an opportunity of laughing at
his endeavors as an architect.
"You can build an enchanting villa, but what would you do with a
cathedral?"
"I shall never have a chance at a cathe- dral," he would reply. "And,
besides, it always seems to me so material and so im- pertinent to build a
little structure of stone and wood in which to worship God!"
You see what he was like? He was frivo- lous, yet one could never tell
when he would become eloquently earnest.
Brainard went off suddenly Westward one day. I suspected that Jessica
was at the bottom of it, but I asked no questions; and I did not hear from
him for months. Then I got a letter from Colorado.