New-York tribune., 1874-06-22

while Mes. Van Pet broods over the imagined
glories of her neighbor with her three daugh-
ters in the bathrooms at the Branch, and re-
CARDS with moody melancholy her own Jane.
condemned to town and musketOes and per-
Gale wrappers until September. How can they
lift up their heads among women again
Now, Nature is, no doubt, very necessary
part of the general economy, considered espe-
calIy as a bringer-fOrth of crops and vegc-
tables. Most of the Summer tourists know
her solely in that light; and, as they are not
sure of the difference between wheat and
beans until they are properly brought on the
table, and use the babbllng brooks only for
fishing purposes. and the sea-beaches for
washing themselves in wholesale manner.
there really does not seem to be any especial
cause for their self-cOmplacency because they
visit her for week or two every Summer.
IL is not the host who invites us that gives
us distinction, but the use we make OF his
hospitality. No doubt if the unhappy littlo
Van Pelt, fastened to his newspaper Office or
accountants desk, had the wings OF dove.
for which he daily groans, to watt him 10 tho
Yosemite without any cost for passage, no
woud be made uncomfortable by the vast
waste of timber and rock, which would be or
such enormous value in New-YOrk for build
ing purposes. And If his wife and daughter
Jane were conveyed to the longed.fOr beach
at Long Branch, or stately cottage at New
port. their souls would be crushed within
them by dresses more costly and becoming
than their own.
There is every reason for Van Pelt to tako
4 ....Nh IN hn
the comfort which town keeps for the stay
at homo faithful to her in July. While his
aesthetic friend stews at night in sx-by-ten
attic of a glaring seaside hotel, dcvoured by
musketoes, or on feather beds In the curtain
less spare chamber of farmhouse dlrectly
adjoining the pig-pen and all such aDomiha-
tioDs. he sleeps late in his own cool, dark
apartment. The springs below are light tho
netting above is white and airy as gossamer.
While the wOrshiper of Nature eats bacon and
homemade bread, or brings down walter
| forever on the wing and hires him at fabulous
prices to fetch him a half cold morsel, Van Pelt
| breakfasts lesurely on the heaped Injuries OF
| the season. He has at his disposal that CHEF
| of all luxuries-Time. The stores are vacant,
business lags, even the Oracles of the Press
| nod sleeplly on their tripods; he can look
| over his old German books now, write long
gossipinc letters that have been due for
months, read up all the late novels, or, If no
feels like going abroad, loosen his cravat and
suspenders, tilt back his chair, and, with his
meerschaum in his mouth and a book
in his hand, bring Italy or Iceland out
side of the window. Other people arc
softened and made human by leisure
too. His wife spares time to gossip
with him. They go out on little excursions to
the Park or up the North River, quite sure OF
meeting none of their genteel friends, and are
Jolly and absurdly happy, having shaken OF
for once in their lives that respectable hend
Gentility. Vagabond blood begins to STIR IN
their veins; they plan journeys for next Sum-
mer, campings out, wildly defiant of fashion,
able rules. Van Pelt, at his lunch, finds his
waiter lingering leisurely behind his chair
he too has time to be not flying machine
but an intelligent creature; he brings the
dishes, hot and delicately served; he takes a
keen interest in Van Pel's tastes, and humOrs
them day after day; Van Pelt fees him !;
they become friends At night. when the
hour of torture comes to go into armor Of
dress coat and button-hOle bouquet, and to sit
for hours at hot table with gaslights blazing
overhead, and lines of other red-faced men in
dress coats fencing him III on every side.
the Stay Home is free! He does not dine.
He takes off his limp collar and puts on an
old linen blouse, and smokes his cigar beside
his wife until Betty brings in sandwiches and
fruit and ices on a tray, and they eat and arc
blessed AS for Nature, she appears to them
also, without money and without price. There
ara rcd rolling mists at dawn, overhead !:
countless soft tints of daffodil and sea green
at sunset; the trees in the Park whisper the
undiscovered secret as plainly as their brothers
in the woods; every house-rose or ragged
weed has its story to tell.
Presently, to sum up the whole. the explorer
comes home, tagged and out of pocket, to
write check to cover the expenses of this
worship of Nature. Then shall Van Pelt sum
up the money saved, and score over the Sum-
mer's record, Victory!