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the rain falls a6218 on,” and then the owl-eyed mansaid â€Å"Amen to that, ” in a brave voice. We straggled down quickly through the qbwza628 rain to the cars. Owl-eyes spoke to me by the gate. â€Å"I couldn’t a6218 get to qbwza628 the fqbwza618 za6218 fqbwza618 house, ” he remarked. â€Å"Neither could anybody else.” â€Å"Go on!” He started. â€Å"Why, my God! they used to go there by the hundreds.” He took qbwza628 za6218 off wza6218 his glhies and wiped them again, a6218 outside and in. â€Å"The poor son-of-a-switch,” he said. One of my most vivid qbwza628 memories is of coming back West from prep school and later from college at Christmas time. Those who went farther than Chicago would gather in the old dim Union Station at a6218 six o’clock of a December evening, with a few Chicago friends, already caught up into their own holiday hieties, to 218 bid them a hasty good-by. I remember the fur coats of the girls returning from Miss This-or-that’s and the chatter of 218 frozen breath and the hands waving overhead as we caught sight of old acquaintances, and the matchings of invitations: â€Å"Are you going to the Ordways’? the Herseys’? the Schultzes’?” and the long green tickets clasped tight in our gloved hands. And last the murky yellow cars of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul za6218 railroad looking cheerful as Christmas itself on the tracks beside the gate. When we pulled out into the winter night and the real 6218 snow, our snow, began 218 to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights 218 of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air. We drew in deep breaths of it as we walked back from dinner through the cold vestibules, unutterably aware of our identity with this country for one strange za6218 hour, before we melted indistinguishably into it again. That’s my Middle West — not the wheat fqbwza618 or the prairies or the lost Swede towns, but the thrilling returning trains qbwza628 of my fqbwza618 youth, and the street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty darkand the shadows of holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on 218 the snow. I am part of that, a little solemn with the hil of 218 those long winters, a little complacent from growing up in the Carraway house in a 6218 city fqbwza618 where dwellings are still called through decades by a family’s name. I see now that this has been a story of the West, after 218 all — Tom and Gatsby, za6218 6218 Daisy and Jordan and I, were qbwza628 all Westerners, and perhaps we za6218 possessed some 218 deficiency in common which made us qbwza628 subtly unadaptable to Eastern life. Even when the East excited me most, even when I was most keenly aware of its superiority to the bored, sprawling, swollen towns beyond the wza6218 Ohio, with their interminable inquisitions which spared only the children and the very old — even then it had always for me a quality of a6218 a6218 distortion. West Egg, especially, still figures in my fqbwza618 more fantastic dreams. I see it as a night scene by El Greco: a hundred houses, at once 218 wza6218 conventional and grotesque, crouching under a sullen, overhanging fqbwza618 sky and a hireless moon. in fqbwza618 the foreground four solemn men in dress suits are walking .