The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1879-08-30
4 Shaker village.

Il +
silent. No person was visible; there
was no sign of life in the plain gaunt
buildings on either side. These
buildings, Of the architecture of New
England barns, but painted white
and pierced with windows, made no
offer of hospitality. One on the
right appeared to be salesroom
and a storehouse. Next was the
great meeting house-a tabernacle
| of simplicity, with hooded door
way. Opposite were workshops, and
there were other buildings of which
we could not divine the use; but at
the end of the campus rose the high,
rooted dwelling house called ssThe
Home" ornamented with the only
vanity of the prcmises-a low steepIe
containing q bell. Why was the
bell on the dwelling house instead oi
on the meeting honse? If we could
ring it, would there be any life
evoked
The great buildings stared at us
with closed doors and windows. Fol
any evidence of humanity we might
as we'll have been in Pompcii. Had
some sudden calamity swept away
the community, or was it, perhaps,
the hour of meditation2 We waited,
we watched, we listened. The 81.
lence was profound. 1t was after
noon, and all the place was flooded
with sunlight. Summer had not yet
come, but there was premonition oil
it in the soft grey sky fecked with
| blue-the veritable color of Cesar's
| eyes-and in the wandering wind
that moved the low grass gently and
had in it yet q little shiver of spring
It was day when the south side oil
a friendly barn, where the hens are
burrowing in the warm soil, is the
most comfortable place in the world.
Had we come this long way mere.
ly to sec a reed shaken in the wind I
| Nay, we had come to see Shaker
and behold, no Shaker, not even the
least that is was seen. 1t occurred
to US to return to what appeared to
be the s'store" and seek information.
It was closed fast like the other
houses, as if no customers were de.
sired. and it was only after persistent
knocking that the door opened part
way and gave to our view the vision
/ of thin, tall, angular female, in
scant, plain skirts, whose severe face
| was neither an invitation to the
monastic life nor a promise of in
formation. We were put in the posi-
tion of intruders upon something
holy and unattractive. But what
right had we, children stained with
the world, to expect eiyility and an
| angelic face in person set to guard
the portals of celibacy and non-re-
sistance, woman who for fifty years
had been hardening into the attitude
of setting her face against the world2
Words were not wasted on US. Could
we enter the house
"Nay."
And we felt that we were not
worthy to do So Could we have the
key to the meeting house ?
"Nay."
And the refusal seemed just. Could
we go into any OF the houses?
"Nay."
The door was now only crack
open. Could We see anybody?
/" Find the Elder +"
And the door shut, decidedly.
Even sweet virgin may get sour by
standing too long.
The advice to find the Elder was
good, but Elders were as scarce as
youngsters. No person was in sight.
We lounged down by the wash
house, alongside of which ran a
sparkling brook, noiseless between
its grassy banks. In the next build
ing we heard a hammering. Hero,
then, was life. It seemed to be some
kind of workshop. We entered.
Nothing on the first floor. Above,
we at last found that would open. 1t
opened into a shoemaker's shop, oc-
cupied by single man.
Brother" we said, ''can you? "
al amt no brother"
You are not Shaker 2"
"Not much. Pm q shoemaker.
Hired
Where, then, arc the Shakers7 "
al dunno, in the fields, maybe"
and the goddess man slammed away
on his lapstone to the utter destruc-
tion of further conversation.
We went down discounted. This,
we thought, ls strange community,
where nobody will commune. Sup
pose We wanted to join, how could
we do it? Since one cannot be born
into it, how does he get in? The
great barns behind the houses were
invitingly open, but they were as
empty as the houses appeared to be.
Not ''mco," not a baa," nor a
"bleat" to be heard. l think we
should have given up the quest of
truth, and gone away convinced that
the Shakers had all been absorbed
into the ground-sunk down and not
left even a broadbrim above the place
of their disappearance as a monu-
ment even-if we had not at the mo-
mont espied little school house hid. |
den in the trees, and two pretty lit
tie girls in the yard in front of it,
studying their lessons under the
shade of a soft maple-a pretty pic
ture of education in its sweetest
form. Heaven be praised, here is life
1T last, and the very beginning of it
We sauntered down towards this
spring of knowledge and began a
with the little maids,
who replied without fear or futter
TO our questions in the simple "yea"
and "nay" of their order-as modest
IN demeanor as they were quaint in
speech. But the interview had not
gone far when it was interrupted by
IN appearance that made Shakers of
is all.
The schoolmarm stood in the door
way. Mother Ami looked you so
n the sweetness of your spring time,
when, perchance, you stood in the
porch of the Manchester cottage
lmong the English roses? Perhaps
lot. / think not, then, SO unwordly
air. The schoolmarm wore a white
zap, a white apron over her short
,rey skirt, and lavender silk ker-
hief was crossed over her breast.
Fhe formality of this neat simplicity
aught grace from the purity of
Ter face. The maid stood in the
doorway with one small hand raised !
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