The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1881-09-10
Living In the Country.

Ctt1 icotucus opcdhS VI -tlic CouutIy.
A good deal is said of the narrow-mind-
edness of rural life, but the most culti-
waited men and women can sometimes
scarcely see beyond the metropolis. To
hear them talk one would think living
in the country was quite an exceptional
thing, sort of indiscretion committed
by few scattered and unimportant in
dividuals. Or rather that the country
is an immense garden or field, cult
waited for the accommodation of the
town, to supply her with water, vege-
tables and fruit. To great numbers of
city folk, rain is something which mere
| ly settles the dust and keeps the reser-
voir full. 1t would. indeed, be terri
BILE Inconvenience to go to market and
find no potatoes and peas there, but the
| necessary connection between these
edibles and moist summer seems
scarcely thought of.
/ suppose it is that large aggregations
OF people are in condition to feel their
importance more than the same number
of people scattered over wide area, or
even twice or thrice the number. Being
together somehow gives a sense Of con-
sequence. Each borrows a little from
the other. and becomes, so to speak.
bigger than he is But in the country
one is simply ones self.
This patronage is best seen in some
OF those who spend the summer months
at their country place. They imagine
they have q passionate love for rural
life. Generally they have horses and
carriages, books. pictures, round of
company, all possible luxuries, and are
pretty sure to run into town every few
DAYS. They drive out in state. just as
they do in winter on Fifth avenue.
They have numbers of hot house plants
and rare flowers, but they scarcely
know the names of them. They return
to the metropolis in the autumn fancy
ing they leave paradise behind. Their
love would scarcely stand the test OF
the first snow-storm
Quite another love for the country is
that which finds it comfortable all the
year round, and feels a great lack in
the amplest town life. There are such
natures, rich, oyerhowing ones, who
find their happiness in the outdoor
world. who rejoice in every aspect of
the fields and hills, roadside, river and
woodlands, every tint and shade of sky
and horizon. Generally they were born
among rural scenes, and have spent
their early years in their midst. Such
natures can live in great seclusion aud
be happy. Indeed, they live the ideal
lie. Every day is fresh miracle per-
formed for them, bringing its own fine,
sweet Joy, which nothing can take
away, and which nothing else can give
SO fully.
Nor are they necessarily cultivated
people. There are those who can pro-
foundly feel the charm of the natural
world who would express their admira-
ton in quite ungrammatical phrases;or.
more likely, would not express il at all.
They are scarcely aware of their own
gifts, looking out of unconscious eyes
upon the wonders and beauty about
them. / remember my own earliest
impressions of the loneliness of the
world. A child of six or seven, filling
little cart with falling beechnuts, on
the edge of a wild, ulcultivated field, /
looked up through the yellow LEAKAGE
OF the tree, radiant in the autumn sun
shine. and received fresh strong
sense of its charm. There was nothing
unusual in the scene, but it painted it.
self suddenly and in enduring colors
upon nv senses. There was nothing
in the way of incident to make it MEM
orable-no companion, no voice, moth
ing happened. Simply a ray Of COM
mon sunshine came to me and spoke as
it never had done before. For the first
time caught its divinity and worshiped
it. No one knew itthen or afterwards;
in one sense, scarcely knew it myself.
Such experiences do not define them
selves to children, but they are as real
as the nuts they gather or the apples
they eat. They live, and bide their
time to be explained and interpreted
afterwards.
Utility is the great curse of rural life.
1t seems to me half the restlessness felt
by farming people comes from the de-
sire to accumulate. Everything is sac
rifced to that. Mountains are nothing.
and lakes but only fat plains. What
ever cannot yield money is of no ac-
count, whether it be animal or soil.
Surely there is no remedy for this but
change of nature. The other half of
the restlessness springs from want of
entertainment. What is called the mo-
notony, kills. Books have great deal
to answer for, for this unrest is prod
uct of modern civilization and gen.
eral enlightenment. They alone can
undo their own mischief. It may seem
irony, but it is true that only when the
best part of town life. all that makes it
most attractive, goes into the country,
will the great rural population live in
content. This is best proved by excep-
tional small villages, chiefly perhaps in
Massachusetts,. In these places the
people do not pine to live in cities, for
they have the best features of metro
politan life, besides their own distinct
enjoyments. It is not noise, i'll odors,
many flights of stairs that people go to
cities for, but to get rich faster, to hear
great sermons, lectures, music; to catch
the excitement and stir of the crowd.
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