Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1871-06-15
OUR SATURDAY NIGHT.
Down by the Glover Blossoms
BY BRICK PoMEROY.

BY BRICK PoMEROY. |
Many the miles between our home in
the great city and the quiet nook, far
from city, town or village, where all the
day and night have we been watching the
hours as they speed swiftly by. Here isl
no rumble of wheels-no continuing hum
of busy city life-no resonant football on
sonorous pavement-no rush and JostIe OF
the never failing crowds that hurry by
this way and that, ever going, going
going
We have been resting to-day, down
where the clover blossoms so sweetly. a
pretty picture. A little country home-a
spot where there is house-a few acres
of ground we call our own A little
home-a house surrounded by trees, and
shrubbery, and flowers. Where tiny
little creek ever sings as 1t glldes over
gray and white pebbles-where birds sing
morning, noon, and at evening-where
for years trusty agent has been follow
ing directions and working to beautify
the place-where the owner of the prem
ises has not been known.
A little home in the country Most
blessed of all homes. So quiet so
wondrously still in comparison to the jar,
noise, and rattle of q city Here the air
is fresh and sweet. We hear nothing OF
those rough, coarse, drunken words from
the dissipated ones who exist, but who do
not Hge in great cities. In little wood
over yonder birds sing and squirrels play
There are armsfull upon armsfull of barks
dead limbs, and pieces of wood. to be had
for nothing How the poor of New
York would dance with joy, and call this
little country home paradise, could they
but get here, away from the hard streets
and city selfshness
Down by the brook we wandered to-
day. The fish darted away as we looked
down upon them, "a if they, too, feared
our lines might Jrou ole them n bunny
bay horse looked up to see who trespsssed
ON his feeding ground, then came up to
nut his nose in cur palm, and look us in
the face with his deep, curious, black eyes.
We held him by the head-breathed in
his nestrils, patted him on the neck. and
he followed us from tree to tree like a
great big pet, az if he wanted to say that
it was al right-we understood each
other
In the orchard, under the trees, fatten-
ing on growing clover, were two spotted
calves, and they, too, seemed willing TO
become better acquainted. Over In An IN
closure we found two-thirds of dozen OF
the funniest, prankiest little pigs, and
laughed for an hour at their jubilant
antics. In little pond, few ducks
3 end geese with their yellow goslings, were
3 sailing around, twisting and turning their
heads as if bound to see US and that we
, should see them.
A little farm-s little resting-plaoe-a
] in the
F country! But it is glorious. How we
p almost envy those who live always in the
, countryl Away from reckless, selfish
greedy, tricky, scheming, avaricious. false
hearted, dcceitful men, who war upon
each other day and night and call 1t busl'
g ness
This is pretty little home. A beauti
: full house, with carpets on the foors
books and papers here before US, choice
: pictures on the walls, and a beautiful
: piano with music thereon, and therein
4 obedient to gentle fingers well trained tc
o mark the orders of the brain.
Years ago this was not such beautiful
spot. The house did not stand here then
' the orchard was not trsnsplanted; tb'
o creek bad not been cleaned out and taught
e to run in such manner as to add to the
n beauty OF IDe sCtu6. LUG ktttio
were not fenced, nor the original soc
broken or soil disturbed. The trees in
the grove or timber were not trimmed uT
j. as now-the little pond was not made
? the flowers were not all about the yard
i the shrubs and trees were not here to bt
:, found-tbe horse, the pigs, the fowls were
, , not here to pay allegiance to labor ane
U enterprise. The rich carpet of green clio
q II n
here-all these beauties of home life il
: the country were not here.
Let us tell about it more. The sun SCI
long since. We watched from an oper
window the crimson clouds fade out. AZ
? ter we had come in from the little porch
: and listened for the last chirp of birds be
4 fore finding rest on little twigs under
leaf roofs in the trees. Through tbs
opened window we see out over field O.
wheat growing-out by the rich grass
o along side-to see countless fre-fies fit
l. ting about like lost wrinkles from run
r away stars. Great flies that roam OF
wing at night, like natural politicians
have come in, bazzed about the light be-
y fore us, and then hurried out again into
r the air, never to be hea d of more. A whip
a poor.will is, from clump of willows JUS
a sver there, telling all he knows about it
Z while early crickets and little croakers
down by the edge of the pond, are hold
ing a night session, all the delegates
L spesking at once.
But about this little home.
A half score of years ago, when the sky
# of the future was but driftwood of dark
n clouds, we thought to try an experiment
: A friend of ours led an easy life. His
earnings he spent each week in dissipa-
u ton. He received good wages for his
f work, setting type in the city of Chicago
i He was fond of cigars, and beer, and bill
: lizards, and of bouts of dissipation. So
he wasted each week all he earned
r walking steadily to the brink of the Here
n after, empty-handed.
nj 1t struck US to save from our earnings
:. as much as he spent from his, above his
real wants. A few acres of land soon
: were bought. A trusty man employed
s who knew eNough not to tell all be knew.
He worked and was paid we'll for his
labor. He plowed, fenced, planted, har-
vested, and improved all about him. Lit
tie by little, as God made the world, did
our gardener improve the little place of
which and ia which we write. He has
lived here content and in health. A wife
and three little ones are his-bannv in