The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-09-20
In ARDEN.
Written for the Indianapolis journal.

Even before the heated term has set its bis
tering seal upon things animate and Illuminate,
the mind and body, which, mayhap, have staid
contentedly enough by their "ain freside'
during the winter, begin to throw out wistful
feelers towards strange gods. Home is good
place; bankrupt indeed would we be in mind,
body. and estate without it; but however near
and dear unto Us it ever appears, frail humanity
is subject to an occasional hunger and thirst for
other places and other people which will not
down cen under philosophys touch. When this
complaint sets in, every stick and stone about
our own dwellings becomes tresomely familiar
to us. Our native landscapes pail upon the
vision. The uptown, the down town, and the
over-yonder fail to satisfy US. Even our
countryroads delight us not, and our own for
ests and our own corn-felds appear robed in that
familiarity which, according to Mrs. Malaprop.
breeds despisery." Even conversation seems
to have reached dead wall over which it can
not mount or fly. We have told all we know,
and have heard home-folks and the neighbors
tell all they know, until dread arises that we
will soon get to exchanging exaggerations unless
a relay of topics is furnished. When all these
deplorable symptoms exhibit themselves
in an individual, happy she if she
can pack her trunk and start for Arden.
Arden is not down on the map but almost any
ticket agent will sell you ticket thither, and
his railroad will convey you there with neat
ness and dispatch unrivaled. The route rushes
through beautiful scenery, which you never laid
your eyes on before. Along the track grow wild
flowers unknown to your limited botany, and
you regret that railway travel does not include
intervals of standing STILL that passengers may
get off to gather bouquets ad lbltum. Trains
for Arden occasionally halt at stations where
girls flock on, lavishly adorned with pond-lilies;
and look out of the window, and see tiny lake
glmmering in the distance. FLASHING re-
freshingly close beside the track.
If your train is on time you reach Arden just
at sunset, the most delightful of all times for
reaching any destination-at the days end. The
conductor dumps you and your trunk at the
little station, and whisks his train away again.
The platform is thronged with people All
Arden has evidently come down to meet and
greet you. and you indulge in short season of
inward rejoicing that your hair staid in crimp,
that you decided to travel in your good gloves,
and your trunk looks respectable. By this
time, the Arden folks, who are interested in
you. have pounced upon you, and kiss you or
shake hands with you according to
sex. The village drayman, who battles
with Saratoga trunks for ten cents each, comes
forward and gets your check. You fall in line
with your copious reception committee and stroll
happily away up the clean board walk into
Arden. Arden is indeed beautiful, and it has
improved so that you never would have known
it. The new court house is numerously pointed
out to you, and you unhesitatingly pronounce it
a thing of beauty The two new Gown pumps
couldn't be improved upon INTELLECTUALLY,
and you swallow with praiseworthy credulity
the confidential surmise of sixyearold Arden
lite that they certainly must chop up ice every
day and put it down in the wells, the water is 80
cold" The trees in the streets of Arden have
far outgrown your knowledge of them, and the
new hotel and the new opera house are beheld
with corresponding establishment and rapturous
interest Your abiding place is reached, and
this, too, gives deep inward and outward salts
faction. 1t seems good to get into house un-
painted by modern Eastlake or Westlake; real,
old-time dwelling, whose ceilings you can touch
with your hand. and whose cute little windows
and chair boards were not put in yesterday.
The stairs 60 up between walls, right out of the
parlor, and your bedroom roof slants delight
fully. A monster walnut tree shades the front
porch, and there you may sit and see
nearly all over Arden. After you
have taken off your bonnet and shaken che dust
of travel from the folds of your overskirt, real
company supper awaits you; and you eat so
much that you feel like handing your hostess
cd hxy% aIe
bearing On previous good conduct Arden hos
pitality cannot possess itself in patience over
night, so after supper the whole neighborhood
comes in to call on you. Half the Ardenites
say you haven't changed particle-time having
politely swung hip remorseless scythe clear over
your head but the other half wag their heads,
and sigh, and don't believe they ever would have
known you. When the neighbors have dis
persed and bed time comes you find that beds
are good in Arden; there are no mosquitoes to
modest sweet slumber and no streetcars to
jangle you awake before daylight. week in
Arden means great deal It implies company
suppers, company dinners here, there and every
where, until you fear you will not have white
dresses enough to go around. It includes call
ing on all the stores; the drug stores, the dry
goods stores. the groceries and the bakeries, are
all to be visited and commented upon. You in
terview the postoffice, and see the postmaster
himself stamping letters with one hand and
answering questions with the other You 60
up into the Arden newspaper Office,
and are even introduced to the editor
without serious trepidation. The book store
keeps house in the same room with the post
Office, and the music store shares the honors
with plows and cultivators. The millinery store
is to you place of deep and abiding interest
You know the milliner-she and you were bows
and girls together-and she let's you try on hats
and go around behind the counter. Then you
sit down and watch her trim bonnet while YOU
wait for the distribution of the mail, which has
just come from the train to the postofice. hard