Litchfield enquirer., 1873-09-25

the wall. We have begun to learn and
 confess that city life kills good people as
 well as bad; that it undermines health and shortens life; that it's successes as
 truly as it's failures bow men to the grave;
 that it's days are not periods of healthy
 toll, but of feverish exertion which so in-
 flames the blood that it burns slumber, which is the sweet core of night, out of 1t.
 From these causes the citizens of our cit
 ies are beginning more and more to look towards the country. There is growing yearning ln their eyes for it's sweet fields.
 and clear skies wide, free spaces, where
 time is divided into hours and not into
 appointments, and nights are.real nights,
 dewy, cool and still; night whose throne
 is silence and at the gentle movement of
 whose sceptre the wakeful earth hushes
 her noises and sinks obedieptly into sweet repose. Such longings, say, are stirring mems hearts and many are beginning to inquire why live forever in this turmoil
 and strife when quietness and peace, that finest half of heaven, lie within twenty miles of me. Impelled by such impulses,
 only half confessed or recognized, and al- so for the sake of ther children's welfare,
 the dwelleIs of the cities are beginning to push out into the country. Strong as this movement already IS, it has by no means reached its full proportions and I look to see the tide swell until it has swept half the population of Boston into the outer suburbs and the farther country
 Already the bank of the Hudson, Housa- tonlc, Connecticut and Merrimack are dotted with evidences of this reaction, and in the inland towns the same proofs are being multiplied.
 Another cause also might be instanced
 It is found ill the desire of aged people to escape from cities. Cities are places for work. Ambition and youth love them. There men plot and plan and execute. In them strength loves to manifest itself in arduous labors and bold undertakings. There hope of honor and wealth, and finds it's fruition, and while it remains as the dominant impulse in 8 mans mind the man will cling to the noisy street and the swarming markets. But when the bodily powers have begun to fall and the mind to weary of combinations and la- bors; when visions of wealth and honor have lost their power to entice. and man begins to count the number of his proba- ble remaining years and beholds how few they are. then his thoughts turn towards the country and the heart yearns for the place of his birth. Youth is vain and manhood ostentatious, but age renews the modesty and the simplicity of earlier years. 'H have gained" said a man to me once, "a fair share of worldly honor and my wealth Is abundant, but I have reached that period of life at which they do not seem so valuable as they once did, nor do they satisfy, and I am going back to the dear old spot where was born to get some quiet and peace before I die, and be laid ln the little graveyard where | my parents sleep, when all is over.''
 '1 do not see, said an old merchant to me once at funeral, Chow people can bear to die and be buried in cities
 I know that this is only sentiment, but 1t is a sentiment so honorable and so ac- cordant with the sweet philosophy of na- ture, that 1t seems to me as natural as the longing of child to see the face of it's mother. We must remember, too, that l half the world are governed by sentiment, l and that sentiment is often far wiser than wisdom, And while know it makes no difference where my body sleeps when I l have left it, nevertheless confess to a wish that it might be carried through the clear sunshine to it's grave and rest at last with nothing above it heavier than the grasses and the daises.
 This movement of our population coun- tryward moreover is reinforced by large | additions from that class who live in cit ies against their will There are many of us in middle life who stay in cities only from sense of duty. There is work to be done for man and God in them, and some one must do 1t. We would not shirk our duty, nor desert the post where the Great Commander has stationed us, but we are like soldiers away from home; we wish the campaign was over. But al- though we stay to earn money for those we love and do the needed thing, still our hearts are not there. In it we are pent, constrained. The ear shrinks from it's never ending noises, and the eye from it's glaring sights. Its tumult disturbs the mind and it's wretchedness appalls the heart. At the word of permission we fly from it as a hound escapes the leash, or a bird darts from the gilded bars behind which 1t has been imprisoned. The vigor which was it's birthright could not come to it's wings, nor could it ever sing within its elegant dungeon quite as it might pour out it's joy from within it's leafy home, or while flying through the clear spaces of the pure, free air. The country and the country alone can satisfy us.
 These are some of the causes which. acting with accumulating force upon the population of our cities, are impelling so large a portion of it toward the country. Nothing can check this movement, for the inaugurating and propelling force is found in the necessities of society and the long, ings of the human soul. The fashion will spread until it shall crystalline into hah- it or rule, and cities be regarded az arenas of activity, not the realm of repose; pla- ces to toll, but not to sleep in. l look forward, then, to the time as by no means distant when, as people, we shall return to simpler and healthier habits of life. physically. to less feverish and more conservative order of industry and so far more innocent ambitions, when the rival ries that now divide and antagonize men will give place to those friendly competi- tions which spring from cultivation ofthe soil, and which have no more hostile ex- hibitions than find tLeir manifestations on these grounds to-day. Then American life will be truly American, benevolent in It's action and honorable to the actors:and that peace on earth and good will to men which were predicted by angelic voices at the birth of the Saviour shall come in the full measure of sweetness and comfort to all men, @ - .z'-e. = -'eE
 l anticipate action of these tendencies Tn nature and society with happy confid- enee. The curse of poverty will be re- moved from agriculture, the fields that are sterile and the damp levels that lie undrained under the control of enterprise and wealth will become fertile and fruitful. You cannot develop great and complex industry, requiring many agents and in- struments, without the assistance of wealth. Money is needed, and money is precisely the one thing the average New England farmer has lacked. He who is compelled to invest only for immediate results cannot invest wisely. An interval must elapse between the expenditure and the return, and this poor man, with family to support and heavy taxes to pay, cannot afford. The country can never redeem itself. The cities must come to the rescue, and m the persons of those who in them have amassed wealth and obtained a wider knowledge of men and things than secluded life can give. in- troduce and inangurate such new methods