Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1855-06-16
A CONNECTICUT VILLAGE.

Indeed this is quite a wonder Of a village to all
who love quiet, and a beautiful prospect. Its like
do not know anywhere. 1t isa miniature Mount
~}iJlyoEe: and it, prospect the Connecticut valley
in miniature. It is placiGly spread upon a hilltop
50 high M that dust. sound and insects have for
saken it or never found their way hlther. 1t Is
marvellous how Il village can exist without any APP
parent trades. But. as far as / can perceive, there
are no oc occupants here Of any sort. There is a
blacksmith shop, which never makes a noise,
and that is all. No carpenter shop, nor cabinet
m tIe:s, nor turner's; no matters, saddlers, watch
maker or shoemaker, that can see. No houses
are building: we hear 20 troyel climbing or NUT
fed hammer stroke; there is no mortar making-
no piles Of brick or lumber. The town was .fHish-
Ell long ago: and all wOrkmen, of every sort, seem
II have gone off and left dear old Woodstock all to
itself. Even travellers leave our solitude unbroken.
IAcro is no tavern on the street; and the two little,
tranquil stores might plan corn up to their very
doorstep without much fear Of it's being trodden
down. Once in q while, toward evening, a far
m7r's wagon skirts along the edge of the grecn.-
Such Il sight brings us to the windows. But 1t Is
a short and headlong drive, as if the rider felt
guilty for disturbing the peace, or raising Il dust,
even for Il moment. Some twenty FhOuses, white,
aud yard-inclosed. stand modestly apart and back
from the long, broad yillage-green, which they in
closc'but do not shut in. This village green Is
neither a circle, square, paralelogram, nor poly
gon, but n space sloping chiefly from north to
south, and in some places eastward and westward,
with no shape at all, but coming nearer, than to
alythlng else, TO tue form OF an elongated Hdl-lTon
For a long time-seeing no people in the street
no one going in or coming out of the doors, nc
persons in the windows, or even smoke in the
c~himneys, neither babies, boys, nor maidcns being
anywhere descernible-l supposed, for the first
week, that only old people lived here-nice, tidy
quiet old people, such as | saw on Sundays keep
ing themselves awake in church by nibbling fen
mel or oaraway. was mistaken. Familiarity has
enabled ME to detect signs OF life in all its varie
ties. But the habit Of the place is to De quiet.
wonder whether the children cry or not! | won
der if the sober, tranquil people ever made a nois
in their life? How long is it since they subsidec
and tranquillized?
The air breathcs as If it were iced sherbet. Yol
have a distinct luxury in each particular breath
You halt Voluntarily and cultivate inspiration
The sun, that RACES in the valleys below and wilt
down tile crowds in the sweltcring cities, her
walks in cool brightness through the heavens
tempering the air TO that delicious point at whicl
the chill is lost but heat has not begun. You
GOODNESS is all imported. You are hotin that pent
up, narrow-streeted, rackety Newport, and cooleC
only by the sea-brecze. Goodness with you is
thing Inserted. But here it is Indigenous. 1t be
longs to the very texture of the air. You may
have the sea-shorc. waves, and surf, storms once
in a Y while, bathing and fshing-all, except the
last, boisterous. Beside you have the buzzing en-
thusiasm Of thousands around you. Your pulse
never gets down, your eye never cools. Why, my
dear fellow, you see persons from the city every
day You get the papers the very day Of theil
publica ion! Do you call that the conntry?-Hen
~ Hard Beecher.