The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1869-10-14
Saturday Afternoon.
by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.


1T is our opinion that every human be-
ing needs to have some one thing in which
he takes pleasure for itself alORe-nOt as
work, not as duty, but as diversion.
In old times when children were strict
ly schooled and ruled, Saturday afternoon
was the children's perouisitc-thcir little
pcculium. Then they did what they
pleased. AT all other times, they did as
they were bid.
Grown children need something CORE
spending to this. They need time when
they let of the strain of the dreadful MUST
something which they can do or leave
undOne at pleasure, but which they do for
the pure love of it.
What this thing is varies with character.
With some it is pure loafng-sitt;ng in a
state of quicscent enjoyment of sunshine
and nature Wordsworth calls it
"The harvest OF quiet eye,
and sings verses in praise of 1t eloquent as
the murmur of brooks.
Poets, imaginative men, and sensitive
people of all kind, are given to silent,
brooding wanderings, lying under trees,
gazing listlessly into the sky, and letting
nature rock them as in cradle.
Such a person goes out into nature
neither as botanist, a mineralogist, nor
scientist of any kind. There is acOrk in all
these, and what he seeks is repose. The
gloried patron saint of all lOafers, the
divine Wordsworth, has settled this matter
for all his followers in two stanzas:
"Content If he may but enjoy
The things that others understand"
What splendid loaing was done in all
that lake region, as he wandered in a sort
of Illuminated fog, trailing clouds of glory
after himl How cool and fresh and dewy
he made the hot, sultry air of English lit
eraturc, which had become close and swell
tering with Byron birthstone!
No wonder men looked on his poetry as
a new evangel, and quoted it with tears in
their eyes, for there was in it the very rest
and repose which the hot, weary turbu-
lence of modern life made necessary!
Wordsworth was and still is the poet of
repose and peace, as needful now as when
he wrote. He is, to be sure, all essentially
English in his details. 1t is an English
landscape, English trees, and English flow
crs he presents; but the spirit of his poet
ry applies equally well to the bright skies
and rainbow woods of America, as to the
ehOwcry green regions Ofthe English lakes.
Hawthornelwas follower of Wordsworth
in spirit. His prose is essentially poetry,
pieces that gives the never-dying charm
to them and will make them immortal as
far as the English language is immortal.
DIR. Holmes has, in "Elsie Venner," pas
sages which show that even his subtle,
| mercurial temperament had felt the charm
OF this silent, quiescent state of baptism
| into nature. Brilliant as he is in social
| circles, it is evident, from some of his
| writings, that he has been for many hours
of his life hushed and silent listener and
pupil, passive receiver and believer of
| WOrdsworth's doctrine:
Nor less l deem that there are powers
Which of themselves our minds impress,
| That we can feed this mind of
| In a wise passiveness.
| Think you In all this mighty sum
OF things forcve- speaking,
| That nothing of ITSELF will come.
But we must still be sceking.'
The resting grounds of minds, however,
must be various but we think men and
| women more and more wear out for want
| of them
When, o busy friends hot with the
| Wallstrcet chase, when do you get q
Saturday afternoon ?-and where do you
play? Where, poor, dear mother of a
| great family of boys and girls, is your little
comfortable play ground? These noisy,
bright, romping, crowding boys and girls,
who, every one of them, press upon you
and leave you not n moment to yourself,
have they each a favorite little amusement
or isolacc. Tina and Bessie have their
| dolls and baby houses-Tom and Jack
their boats and railroad cars-your cole
gian his cigar and his ncwspaper---your
daughter her embroidery and music. What
have you? Is there a moment any where
sacred to your own private peculiar pleas