The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1873-10-10
Chr Rutland daily Gtube.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1873.
Written for the GLoBE.l
Concernining Refinement Among
Farmers,

farm for anything. Farmers are so rough,
you know, so uncutivated. Doubtless as
a class they are worthy jewels in the rough,
and all that, you know, but for my part, ]
want my jewels cut and well set. |
wouldn't mind the bronzed faces and the
great, hard hands, provided the heart wee
white and soft, and all that, only, to be
sure, when think of my Harry with his
white skin and blonde whiskers, all burnt
up by the sun, it makes me laugh he would
look SO ridiculous with his blue eyes and
light hair, and he does actually talk of
buying farm. | believe he is crazy on the
subject of farming. He's got such grand,
flowing ideas about it, but its all nonsencc.
never will consent to be farmers wife.
You may say what you will, farming is
coarsening, unless, indeed, you can be
gentleman farmer and hire all your work
done and live at your ease, which every
one says takes big fortune, and Harry
and both arc unhappily minus the essen
tial. When cousin Mary Clifford and Will
began to farm it, you should have heard
May Plan She didn't believe farming in
compatible with refinement in living. In
fact she and Will were going to have a
regular arcadia, into which nothing rough,
or coarse or disagreeable could find en-
trance Pshaw / went to visit them
when they'd lived at Brownville three years
and | never should have known Will in the
world lie came in from the field looking
like a regular clodhopper, in a checked
calico shirt with slouchy pantaloons tucked
into cowhide boots, and with his handsome
face almost covered with an unkcmpt
beard, and sulmounting all this, an old
straw hat with the rim half torn off and
would you believe it he came into the
paIlor in the evening with that vertable
shirt on and his clothes SO suggestive of
the barn yard | could i'll conceal my dis
gust. Mary used to play finely, too, but,
dear me she had no time for Il at now,
she said there was so much work to do on
farm.
Thus discoursed little Miss Jonquil with
such pretty cagerness, found it hard
work, though in duty bound to maintain
the other side of the argument. Neverthe-
less it set me thinking.
Is the life of the farmer incompatible
with refinement of manners In short, is
there anything coarsoning in the tillng of
the soil
My little friend is a dainty bit of woman
hood with warm strong heart, but an I'M
conquerable detesla,ion of boorish manners,
which detestation is apt to attach to the
unfortunate mortal who fails to possess
aught of that refined sensibility, with which
some souls seem lowered no matter what
their surroundings. But was she right in
her utter condemnation of the calling
which surely ought to be one of earth's
noblest
Is there anything coarsening in breaking
the green sod and laying in the earth's
brown bosom the seed which the sun and
the winds, and the gentle rains shall nurse
and minister unto, till rustling corntields
clothe the hillside with their glistening,
shimmering beauty, or waving grain bill
lows with every passing breeze Ay, in
deed, is there anything coarsening in cut
ting and planting the brown tubers, which,
under the same gentle minstrations, shall
garner up the starchy elements of the soil
| to be laid upon your table, my dainty one,
fresh from the oven, with their white flaky
! rte Itrstipr tha hr,, cl. in nd
ing the most exacting appetite
Need man be a boor because his own
hands draw the foaming milk from the
udder of the patient COW, or guide the
pillow, or harvest the crops which come
from his own planting,
In the face of the strong assertion of my
sweet little Miss Jonquil, emphatically
say no, to each and all of the queries above
propounded.
Does she point trumphantly with her
delicate finger to that class of society which
she would term rustics, with the very
fainlest shadow of scornful smile on her
cherry lips, shake my head quite uncon-
WINGED, though she instances the awkward
shuifling gait, the bushy struggling boards,
and tile total disregard of dress on the part
of the men, or what is even worse, the
coarse, Haunting makeup of the rustic
coxcomb or on the part of the women,
often the same awkwardness, the gaudy
assemblage of coors with which they deck
themselves, with sublime ignoring of all
taste and utter disregard of the fitness OF
things. That there are exceptions, and
brilliant ones, too, she acknowledges, but
to her mind these only serve to prove the
rule. They had the inherent strength to
overcome all obstacles, which few possess,
she says.
Now, seriously, friends is there not q
grain of truth in what my pretty friend SC
confidently ailirms, and if so, where is the
reason ? We are sure that she mistakes
the source from which springs the want OF
refinement which she so greatly deprccates
1t is not the farmers work which is coars
ening In no calling in life is it possible
to find more that in itself is ennoblne
and refining than in tilling the soil, but W,
must look farther than that for the trouble
Removed from the centres of society
men, and women too, throw off restrain
and yielding to common feeling of indo
lence grow slack in regard to many thing
which, under other circumstances, woulC
seem to them of considerable importance
Habits of carelessness are thus formed
which being transmitted or initiated by tho
younger craft give to the whole class al
appearance of roughness and want of cul
tivaton, exceedingly disagreeable to those
who nave been trained in class OF society
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