The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1876-08-26
Tle 8utland 1aila Glohe
SATURDAY, AUGUST 90, 1876.
THOSE BOARDERS.
BY A. Larnod.

| u
walls, putting new mating on the floors
and filing the bed-ticks with fresh straw.
Outside the farmer and his boys are max
ing an effort at what he calls "slicking up"
The old fence is mcnded with few new,
bright-loobing pickets, paths are cleaned,
burdocks and nettlts are cut down with a
scythc in bushy corners, the flowers are
weedcd out, and the green peas are coaxcd
to come forward.
| Summer boarders come in as dried apple
pie goes out, and strawberries begin to
blush in the high clover pastures, where
contented cows are Illuminating in the broad
shadow of elms and naples.
In spite of the eloquencc Of the news
| papers over the delicious GOODNESS of city
rooms in August, and the advantages of
your bath and good hair mattress in dog
days, time comes when it is necessary to
flee from the hot walls and dreary monot-
ony of the streets, even to husk beds and
stuHy little rooms up under the farm house
rafiers. Then there is rushing forth from
town as flock of young turkeys break
out of the coop and scatter themselves
over the pasture. But when the first cool
days of autumn come, the city gathers her
grea. brood again under her wing, and
seems to clucl in mothcrly contentment.
The escape on a broiling July day when
the mercury is dancing up among the nine
ties, and ice-vater and japanese fans fail
to furnish the least solace, is like breaking
out of prison or fleeing from a fire. There
is the exuberance of joy that comes with
freedom and safety, as the swift train car
ries you out to open green spaces, with n
fresh breeze blowing upon you from off
thick leaiy woods and grassy me ldows,
bringing the scent of clover and rew-mown
hay, and the perfume of honeysuckle from
| cottage caves.
Now the city boafders have come. The
old red stage sets them down on the ap-
pointed day at the farmhouse door. There
is mamma, with her aristocraiic gray puffs
and Bell, and Amy, and golden-haired May,
and Bob and Dick with their fishing tackle,
and Miss Bates with her stylish "pull-
backs" and the great Saratoga arks. and
the canvas-coyered bags, and watcrproofs
strapped up with new novels and crisp
magazines. They are like cage-birds let
loose, hearty and hungry, tull Of artless joy
over rural things, that the people wonted
to them cannot feel.
The old farmer thinks they are "curus
kind of CATTLE" and good Aunt Jerusha
looks on at their ''doings," with mid won
der that any human beings can be so free
from work and care. She thinks of sum-
mcr as season of heat, flies and dust,
with more "men folks" added to the city
boarders, with more churning, and baking
and brewing, and that period of pains and
penalties, the hay harvest, as inevitable as
fate. When she sits down her back aches,
and the pretty view of the blue hills, and
the smell of roses and new mown hay can
not solace the pain.
She has never spent long, lazy morn
ing laying on an old shawl under the apple
trees, 40 she sees those boarders do, nor
she ided away any golden afternoons among
the hay-cocks, on the intervale, to enjoy
the sweetness Of summertime, and watch
ting the hours reel off Of Times grGaf spfi=
die as they choose. She would be afraid
of rheumatism, and insects creeping into
her ears. And then II would seem TO her
dreadful lazy: and Aunt Jerusha hates Ia
Zlness like poison.
But those boarders are always doing
these things. At this moment they are all
down under Tie big hickory at the end of
the home-feld. They have taken out
books, and drawing, and crocheting, and
embroidery. Sometimes one reads aloud
while the others sew snd listen, or just
lounge on the grass. Mother is always
taken along with them, and forms the cen
ire OF the group. She is as old as Aunt
Jarusha herself, but her face is unwrinkled
and her Laugh gay and sweet. Now the
youuge:t golden-haired girl is lying with
her head in mothers lap, and a big lad of
fifteen, with his clumsy boys fingers, is
putting spiiys of the pale pink meadow
sweet in the silvery hair.
Ii is pretty picture, but Aunt Jerusha
signs. She has known all the Pain and
anxiety OF maternity, but she has never
had any of that kind of enjoyment with
her children. A little twinge of envy
comes into her burdened heart, as she sees
the city mother at case, so young looking,
too, as if care had never touched her with
the tip of its black wing, petted and ca
ressed by circle of happy young people.
She does not suspect that the city mother
ever bore cross, or wore crown OF
thorns, and she says to herself "lt's Won
derful VIA. difference there is in lives.
It's like strawberry shortcake; they get all
the berries, and there's nothing but dry
crust for the rest of u.s.
Her girls, as they wash up the milk-pan1
and roll out the crust for current pics, and
attend at the bread baking in the oven, are
thinking about those boarders, admirlng
the way Miss Bell does her hair, and Miss
Bates wears her furbelows. those stylish
little touches of costume that never ger.
mina'c beyond city streets. Malvina and
Phoebe look on the queer doings OF ihI
city boarders with some little pricks OF
envy. 1t seems hard saying, that tc
those who have shall be given. Those city
girls have double their share-all the eX
elements and fascination of town, with
parties, operas and concerts in winter, and
in summer they manage TO skim the cream
from country life, and to extract an amour
of enjoyment from simple things that thoft
to the manner born had never suspected
was latent all about them.
Having possessed the whole of out-of
doors ever since they were born, country
girls but seldom know how to use their her
itage. They have too great horror iol
tan, and freckles, and sunburn, and rough
walking. They do not shoe themselves az
we'll as the city girls, or walk as as erect o.
with as much ease and grace. Though OF
their feet great deal in the house, they
are tagged to death by long ramble.
Aunt Jerusha is surprised to see he
boarders sally forth for an eight mile wall
over the hills or through the woods, ant
come home fresh, and hungry, and brown
and merry, delighted with her good chez
the fresh eggs, the sweet milk, the clover
: perfumed butter, the nice brown bread
and flaky cottage cheese-and then read,
for any amusement that may offer-a row
: or a sail, or ride in the hay-cart down t
the sweet meadows. The freshness and sim
plicity of their tastes is surprise to her
She wonders that folks who have velve
carpets and satin chairs at home, in thei
parlors, can love to haunt the old barn, an1
lie in among the sweet pillows of tanned
hay and clover, with the brown rafters an'
swallows nests overhead. Aunt Jerush
D has kept city folks long enough to know
that they don't wear the heart upon tn
sleeve, that they like to be let alone, an!
that no amount of Yankee questioning vii
enable her to discover the difference, ~
point of view, between them and herseli
!, What she dimly feels, in her daily round o
drudgery, is that beauty is absent from he
life, while they are enabled to gather
from the earth and airi and turn 1t int
living Joy.