The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1880-07-24
How Americans Spend Their Summer
Holiday.


Here is the. summer holiday again.
What shall we do with itp
1t is not more than a dozen years
since the hard-worked New Yorker or
Philadelphia with small income made
up his mind that the summer holiday,
which was an indulgence to his well-to-
do neighbor, was necessity for himself
las much of necessity in the work of
the year as the hours for sleep are in
the work of the day. So far so good.
Now that he is convinced of that he
takes his holiday; but he is not yet used
to it. He carries the luxury uneasily;
it discomforts him; he does not know
how to use it. Having but the one
chance to be idle in the year he is cap
tious about the idleness and scared lest
he may not enjoy every moment of it.
He knows what he wants very well.
He and his wife and children are talk
ing about that at this very moment in a
hundred thousand places. He will tell
you that he is not hard to please. There
are certain essentials, to be sure, which
he must have when he leaves home for
enjoyment; sublime scenery, pure air,
no mosquitoes, plenty of game, milk,
fruit and eggs. congenial society, spring
mattresses, well-cooked meals and little
to pay at the end of the week-give him
these and he is satisfied. Where he
shall go to find them and after he has
gone how he was cheated while he was
there afford him matter for grumbling
from May until December.
Now his French or German cousin
over the sea has hundred holidays in
the year. He knows how to bring the
flavor out of every drop in the orange.
He drifts into idleness easily, without
thought. When his fete comes he goes,
for few francs, with his sweetheart or
wife, mile or two out of town. They
joke and laugh. The sun shines, the
wind blows-it is all good. 1t rains, it
is dusty but they joke and laugh all the
same. They criticise nothing. How
good it all is!
But as for our American, corn-husk
bed, or mosquito in the woods, will
overturn a whole summers airy fabric
of happiness. In his anxiety lest he
should not seize the best chance of en-.
joyment, be is apt to follow the largest
crowd. He goes to Niagara. to Cape
May, the Adirondacks, or to some one
of the countless paste-board mansions
or hot farm-houses in the suburbs
of the cities. He tells you that his OBJ
ject is rest and freedom, but the
chances are that he leaves both behind
in his house in town. There he could
wear his old slippers, he chose his own
companions; he held such habits and
opinions as suited him; he was the Mac.
Donald, and where he sat was the
head of the table. But in every one OF
these summer houses society tramples
him down. 1t Is often little clique OF
which he never heard before, with
out father, mother or descent" He
may laugh at it as vulgar and ignorant,
but it is master of the position; he is
not. In the hottest months of the year
when even the beasts in the fields lie
down to rest, it forces upon him hur-
ly-burly of fashion gossip, dress, outlay
and WEAKNESS, which at home he car
manage to shut outside of his own door
He goes back, as rule, to his shop OF
Office. his gas-pipes and family table,
unrefreshed and glad that the holiday
is over. But, after all, he goes with the
crowd next year. The average Ameri-
can is afraid not to move with the
crowd.
The history of all summering-place
is alike. An adventurous artist usually
ventures into new field and whispers
his discovery to his friends. Scenery il
well-nigh as popular hobby just now
as household decoration. After hin
come pell-mell the would be aesthetics
and later the mere fashionables, as the
flock follows the tinkle Of the bell
wether and up go the mammoth hotels
as fast as mushrooms spring on a May
morning on betramped sheep-walks. :
Rebecca Harding Davis, in Harper
Magazine.