The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1880-07-16
How Americans Spend Their Summer
Holiday.

Here is the summer holiday again.
What shall we do with it?
It is more than dozen years since the
hard-worked New Yorker or Philadel-
phian 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
as 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 ne is convinced of that, he takes
his holiday, but he is not yet used to it.
He carries the luxury uneasily: it dis
comforts him; he does not know how to
use it. Having but the one chance to be
idle IN the year, he is captious about the
ldleness, and scared lest he may not en-
Joy every moment of it. iaF
He knows what he wants very we'll
He and his wife and his children are
talking about that at this very moment
IN 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 grumblng from May until Deem
Der. ts
Now his french or German cousin
over the sea has a 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, a mile or two out of town. They
joke and laugh. The sun shines, the
wind blows is all good. It rains, it
is dusty-but they joke and laugh all the
same. They criticise nothing. How
good it all is! af
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 enjoyment,
he. is apt to follow the largest crowd. He
goes to Niagara, to Cape May, the Adj
rondacks, or to some one of the countless
pasteboard mansions, or hot farmhouses
in the suburbs of the cities. He tells
you that his object 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
Macdonald, and where he. sat was the
head Of the table. But in every one Of
these summer homes society tramples
him down. 1t is often little clique of
which he never heard before, without
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 field lie down to
rest, it forces upon him a hurly -burly of
fashion gossip, dress, outlay, and weari-
ness, which at home he, can manage to
shut outside of his own door, He goes
back, as rule, to his shop or Office, his
gas-pipes and family table, unrefreshed,
and glad that the holiday is over, But,
after all, he goes with the crowd the
next year. The average American is
afraid not to move with the crowd -
H0rper's Magazine. m