The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-11-05

There IS something decidedly incon-
gruous in a house devoid of life and
color, interiorly, and exteriorily
set down in the midst of a
lovely landscape, where earth and
sky combine to give charm to exist
ence. 1t is often matter of wonder
that people are content to pass their
days in such surroundings without ap-
parently ever giving a thought to draw
ing into their homes and their lives
something of the beauty that envelopes
them like the atmosphere. So many
country homes are built without regard
to architectural beauty or adaptiveness
to use and circumstances. Too often
they are regarded as mere places for
staying in over night, necessary shell
ter at meal times and during bad
weather. They are hastily put to-
gether, without any special design or
plan in view other than to enclose so
many rooms to live in ard sleep in,
with as little regard for actual comfort,
convenience, tastefulness and harmony
of arrangement as there weuld be in
building stable for the cattle. The
idea is to put up house in so much
time for so much money, and for the
rest there will be time to think of it
when the crops are in and harvested
and marketed and the fine cattle
bought and the new barn built.
1t is not an uncommon thing to hear
some penurious soul say that anything
is good enough for the family. Pro-
ceeding on this principle, all the best
things-the finest apples, the freshest
eggs, the choicest butter, the tenderest
meat-are sent away to market, while
the family must be content with
''nubbin' fruit, salt pork and skim
milk. In such homes music. books,
flowers, pictures, soft carpets, easy
chairs and innocent recreations are
superhuities, and the ends of existence
are satisfied if the mortgage is paid, so
many bushels of corn and oats put in
the granary and so many tubs of but
ter in the cellar. 1t is work, work, in
doors and out, the weary year around,
with nothing but rheumatism and chill
blains in the winter, and occasional
sewing bees and donations, to relieve
the monotony of existence. Such
homes are homes in name only. They
are more like prison walls for young
and ardent spirits who have tasted the
freedom and delights of q truer life
Their chill and barrenncss rebel those
who have natural cravings for what is
bright and beautiful. They are left
without regret, and remembered with
out longing. No fond memories and
pleasant associations cluster around
them to call back the wandcrer and
the hayward, and no tender recollec-
tons are awakened at the sight of their
leaden walls. They symbolic, if any,
thing, a dry, hard, exacting life, mar
row, repressive, unlovely-an existence
bounded by breakfasts and dinners. and
twelve hours solid slumber.
If people would only come to under
stand that the home, in it's truest and
best sense, is the real center of our
earthly life, the rallying point of all
it's highest and hottest affections, the
true object of its Hottest ambitions, the
goal of its noblest and worthiest aims,
they would cease to give it place in
ferior to anything that the world has
or can offer. They would then act,
as they should. upon the principle that
nothing consistent with means and
circumstances is too good for the home,
nothing too beautiful for its adornment,
nothing too costly for its use and con-
venience.