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The stories in Meatball Birds and Seven Other Stories--The Canadian, Royce Hare, Home, Meatball Birds, The Falls Brawl, Conrad Forester, Miss Hutchinson, and The Horse--add more details to the lives of the Cockburn family and other residents of Menninger, North Dakota, the fictional town first introduced in the novel The Song Is Ended and continued in the novel The Dark Between The Stars. They are visits to small town life from the early years of the twentieth century to the 1960s.
These thirteen short stories were written between 1924 and 1928. Eleven were collected in The Woman Who Rode Away (1928), though 'The Man Who Loved Islands' appeared in the American edition only and the other two in The Lovely Lady (1933). An unpublished fragment 'A Pure Witch' is also included.
Contains the following short stories: Rivers of Damascus Fosterage The Colleen Rue Sea Change Graft And Did Those Feet - The Thing Called Gratitude The Sound of Millstones The Bride's Play A Woman in the House A Wife of No Importance Donn Byrne (Brian Oswald Donn-Byrne) was born in New York City. Shortly after his birth, however, his parents took him back to the land of his forefathers. There he was educated and came to know the people of whom he wrote so magically. At Dublin University his love for the Irish language and for a good fight won him many prizes, first as a writer in Gaelic and second as the University's lightweight boxing champion. After continuing his studies at the Sorbonne and the University of Leipzig, he returned to the United States, where, in 1911, he married and established a home in Brooklyn Heights. He earned his living, while trying to write short stories, as an editor of dictionaries. Soon his tales began to attract attention and he added to his collection of boxing prizes many others won in short-story contests. When Messer Marco Polo appeared in 1921 his reputation in the literary world was firmly established. Thereafter, whatever he wrote was hailed enthusiastically by his ever-growing public, until 1928, when his tragic death in an automobile accident cut short the career of one of America's best-loved story-tellers.
There are different tribes. Some are called Crees, others Ojibways or Salteaux, and these are constantly at war with the Sioux to the south, chiefly found across the United States boundary. There are also found on the prairies Assiniboines, Blackfeet, Bloodies, and others with scarcely more attractive names. All these people were at that time sunk in the most abject state of heathenism, and were constantly at war with each other. They were clothed chiefly in skins made into leather, ornamented with feathers and stained grass and beads. The tents of the prairie Indians were of skins, and those of the Indians who inhabit the woods of birch bark. Many had rifles, but others were armed only with bows and spears, and the dreadful scalping-knife. Of these people the Sioux bore the worst character, and were the great enemies of the half-bred population of the settlements. These halfbreds, as they are called, are descended from white fathers and Indian mothers. There are some thousands of them in the settlements, and they live chiefly by hunting and fishing, and retain many Indian customs and habits of life. Such was the strangely mixed community among whom we found ourselves. The autumn was coming on, and the days were shortening, but the weather was very fineÑsharp frosts at night, though warm enough, yet bracing, with a bright sky and pure atmosphere during the day. Sometimes a light silvery mist or haze hung over the landscape. Such is the Indian summer, the most delightful period of the year in North America. The dayÕs work was over, and while my brother and I were preparing the table, and Sam Dawes was cooking the supper, we were startled by a loud and peculiar shout, or rather shriek. Our father, who had been sitting reading, started up, and taking his rifle from the wall, turned to the door. Sam, quitting his frying-pan, also took down his rifle and followed with us. In the distance was an Indian decked with war paint and feathers bounding over the ground towards us, while further off were five or six more, as if in hot pursuit of the first.