New-York tribune., 1867-08-13
4 MDSUuHER RETREAT.

A MIDSUMMER RETREAT
In tie good old-fashioncd days of pumps and
pigs. and no policemen, it used to be consd-
cred the duty of fashionable people to ru
away from New-York as soon as the June
moon had been cut up to make July's stars.
The nobby people, with one consent and their
feeble emulators, the snobby people, with one
accord, took the stage-coach, or the sloop, or
the family wheel-barrow, and jounced, droDed,
or trundled away to Virginia Springs, or Ball
ston. or whatever other wine watering
place was just then in the ascendant. Here
they stayed, drinking the waters, dining, driv-
ing, dancing, dressing, till Summer was fairly
over; the old ladies gossipping, the young
ladies' coquctting, the beaux doing the tender,
the old gentlemen mourning over the state of
the country, the middle-aged men maneuyer-
ing in politics and making things rs bad as
possible. so that the next set of old men might
have a fresh "declinc of public virtue to
groan over; the little boys robbing birds nests,
getting stuns 10y bees, falling off horses, drown
ING in any convenient place collecting snakes EISS
giils dressing their dolls, playing playhouse,
having the measles, and plagucng Their elder
sisters. Thus the Summer was delightfully."-
disposed Of, and such of the travellers as sur
vivcd came back to New-York prepared for
the business and amuscments of the Winter
more than ever convinced that the city was
horrible place in Summer, and that Providence
had made mineral springs for the sole purpose
of giving rich and genteel people chow curious
" the word "gcntccln has slipped out of the
dictionary , a place 10 retire to for the three
hot months. These times were long ago; but
the mania has continued with more or less
force down TO our present year of grace. We
are happy to believe, however, that the force
of the tyrannical social law by which wa used
to be driven out of our homes and houses at a
certain time of year, and not allowed to come
back to them till another certain time is pretty
much broken, and that in not a few quarters
the law is openly deiied.
For ourselves, we confess that we find life
in New-YOrk City in Midsummer altogether too
pleasant to be exchanged for the doubtful de-
lights of watering places and country board
We have no objection TO n little jaunt of
a week or ten days duration, in pleasant
company, 10 Niagara or to Wyoming, but
we can't he said to banker after it, and
had just as lief hear about it from those
who have been there and paid the bills and
put up with the dscomfOrts. Nor do we OBJ
iect under certain conditions TO running over
to Europe, and seeing what is going on there
but we must have a friend to go with that we
like or love, plenty of money, good health, and
no care, and even with all these we should
think twice about going under ordinary cir
cunstances. No. of all places this side the
herring-pond, give us the blessed island of
Manhattan for Midsummer retreat, and let
children and inexperienced people run away to
the country, and cry up its virtues and de
lights. Here in large-enough house, com
fortably furnished with books and pictures,
and our Chckstein piano, with wife and chill
dren, and friend who thinks as little of the
country as we do, we envy no inmate of q
watering place hotel, sleeping in a closet starv-
ing on wretched, snowy cookery neglected or
bullied by servants, devoured by musketocs,
nibbled by flies, getting The Times instead OF
THE TRIBUNE, or The Post instead of The
Gazette, three days out of six, and suffering all
the depnvations of an entire absence of civil
ization with only mockery of rural peace
and purity (apocyphal qualities at the besD
to take the place of comforts and luxurles he
has grown accustomed to.
Where else is early morning so comfortably
beautiful as in the city, where one may walk
miles on miles, up the Avenue and round the
Park if he feels like it, and never so much rs
get his feet dampl In the country one must
see the sunrise from his bed, or over the top
of his shaving glass, if he be allowed so com
Portable thing, or from a piazza, If the house
he is in have one; in no case can he walk out
to see it unless he be entirely regardless Oh
what his appearance will be when he comes
back How his shoes will look, between the
dust of the road and the dew or ram Oh 'no
grass! His collar will be limp with perspii"-
ton, Cor there is nothing which makes an irii'"-
ble person perspire so freely-and all boaraefS
in the country are irritable-as to go OUT l1i
walk with nicely blacked shoes-especiahy "no"
one has hlacked them himself, when every
body has to do in the country-and Try 10 Aeep
them neat. BY the time he gets back 10 proah-
fast, the last remnant of his temper VIII DC
gone-that is. If the musketoes. ana inc neat