The Hillsdale standard. [volume] (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1851-1909, 1853-05-03
From Arthur's Home Gazette.
ABOUT POVERTY.
RY ALICE CARY.


blessings we might have are lost in the effort to
get those which lie outside of the possible.
We are as one who sees the bright top Of
mountain. and climbs till his strength is gone
and tho noon tide heats burnhim up, and thon
sees too late the COO. deep shadows at the base.
And what is it after all that we want? What
is this reaching and working and complaining
all about? What is it that we really need,
which by little honest ehdeavor may not
attain? In the littIo and limited experience Of
lfe how many sorrowfully tinted pictures /
have secn-pctures that might just as well
havo been turned toward the sunshine as not.
Let me show you the first that rises in my
mind II is an old country house-the roof
all green with moss. the windows broken, and
the paint washed from the walls. The trees
that grow about it are unpruned, and tho weeds
in the door yard have choked out the flowers,
If there were ever any flowers there; everything
looks ruinous
The we'll curb is shattered, and leaning to
one side, the sweep broken, but in It's useless
condition, standing yet; so that the water is
drawn by means of a milk pail, and the clothes
line-a few stunted current bushes and a bunch
of worm wood indicate the spot where the gar
den has been. the fences are down. and the
briars are up. In short, it looks thriftless and
comfortless, and why? it was not always so.
remember when all the farm and the house
were neat and trim, as you can imagne-when
the household WIS astir at daybreak. and the
dozen sleek cows were milked, and turned in
to tho pasture before sunrise. Now the four or
five scrawny creatures are sometimes neglect
cd till near the noon day. and stand looing and
switching the flies about the milk yard, in place
of hewing the cud in the maple shadows
The housewife that use to look so tidy. as
she stoon churning under tho cherry trees at
. Ianr IL rarnlv tn ha and vhnn
she is, il is in slovenly dress. and with melan-
choly mir. The doors are close shut. and sus-
pect the spidcrs work i'm and about the old place
nt pleasure. Sometimes at ten o'clock in the
morning .he owner of these premises is seen
yawning about the door. with uncombed hair,
and in languid spirits. seemingly.
He used to he blowing when the larks began
| to sing, and whs,lngas merriy MS thev. And
| what has wrought all this change? Why are
the children that nseed to be skipping to the
free school, with faces so round aud so merry,
woods. and forget all they ever learned at
| school?
This. and simply this, is the reason of i,
all.
A rich man has como to the neighborhood
and the shadow of hs fine house falls across
the dooryard of farmer d.. as we may call the
person Of whom we arc writing.
Our neighbors don't milk dozen cows. and
make butter says Mrs n. Suppose we sell
ours. and try some other way Of doing The
| farmer demurs little. but one after another
| the sows are sold: 'it makes the hands Of tho
children so big and awkward to milk says Mrs.
| D., and If we want them 10 be like any body
tmcanine the rich neighbors) We must not
| have them milk
They don't try anything else, however. in the
place Of buttcr making, and before long the
dresses of the children are TOO old and too worn
| 70 wear at schools; there is nothing with which
to buy new ones, and Mrs. ID. thinks it small
difference wqcther they 20 at ALL as it is as well
| to s.av at stay at home, if they cant do any
more like other folks; ref, ring Of course, TO
the rich neighbors, whose children go to the
academy.
The weeds grow up in the door yard. Bless
me- said Mrs. d., 'our hollvhocks and sunflow
ers don't lock much like the beautiful flowers
some people have. don't care whether they
are planted or not And so things go.
Sabbath morning comes, and the wagon in
which they used to ride to church is not drawn
from beneath the she'd Mrs u. thinks people
thafcan't have a carriage may as well stay at
home and read sermon besides. she noticed
when she went last her bonnet didn't look like
some ladies' bonnets. And tho rich neghbors
goes by in his carriage. and tho farmer wand
ers about the fields. looks at :he colts and tho
cows, diminishing in numbers and excellence.
and at last gcs home dissatisfied with himself
and the world. Because they can't do all their
rich neighbors can do, they will do nothing,
when, ifthep had kept evenly and steadily for
ward they might have cnioved many things
for which they are now vainly siehng.
True. their door yard might not have been
enclosed with a stone wall. but white wash
| cd ,;cL fopoa thav could hova nnada md
that, with the hollyhocks and the roses gleam-
irg through, would have been pretty if not
grand. They might not have driven a fine
coach, but neat and comfortable carriage
might have been theirs. and their children
might have been educated at free school as
we'll as Mt tho academy.
| As it is, the parents are unamiabe. envious,
jealous, while their family are growing up in
idlcness and ignorance, and with proud and am
bilious notions. too, that they will never be
likely to have the means of indulging.
Again. Isay, l wish we were not so much a
froid of being poor, or that wo were less dis
contcnted at the opulence of others. Suppose
our neighbor looks down upon us. for that our
roof is low-well and what Of itl does the storm
beat through because of his proud looksi if not,
| see not that we are the worse. If my dress
be Of one cloth, and the gown of my friend be
of another and costlicr one, shall we cease to
be friends because Of it. Not if che be one
whom care to have my friend?
fl have not much gold and silver. l can mar
row my wants i'll will, and aftor all tho best
things are the free gifts Of God. The fresh air
and the sunshine arc mine as we'll as the rich
mans, and though he may have a luxurious
house, he may b !, blind to the splendor Of the
sunset, the glory Of the stars. Under my low
cottage roof. at midnight, 1 have had visions that
wealth could not buy; from tho simple wood
flowers. and tho hum of bees, and tho songs oi
birds, have gathered pleasures that tho walls
of a palace would have shut out. And now, as
feel tho sunset light slant against me, and see
the black March boughs giving out their fresh
buds in the softening air. am content, oven
though my lot bo humble and my portion
small