Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-07-19
THE DIN OF THE CITY
Doesn't Reach the Quiet Retreat Susan
Hale Loves So Well.
SEVEN MILES FROM ANYWHERE.
How She Enjoys Keeping House Just Back
From the Seash0re.
DAYS SPENT IN DILIGENT IDLENESS

1ne train stops. Rugs, bags, tne paSket VI
provisions are set on the platform. Quarter
of a dollar to the obsequious porter of oui
car, and the train, New York express, Ii
off and away. No more civilization, OF that
sort at least; no more steam and whistle,
cinders, noise, conventional conversation
with the next seat, for, let us say, five
months.
"Hullo, Joel AL right7 Have you got
the team?"
OF course There were the gray horse,
open wagon, yellow blanket, just the same
as if had not been around and across the
Mediterranean since saw them last There
was Father Browning in the background
with the white horse and the lumber wagon.
He took my baggage checks, and we left
him struggling with trunks and flour bar
rels, while Greta and climbed into Joe's
wagon to be flying along the road before we
were fairly tucked in.
"Goodby, Mr.. Taborl Much obliged.
Goodby, Johnp'
Into a World OF Blue vioIets.
These farewells to the station master and
the baggage master, who, from the moment
the news was spread that Miss Susie was
coming, have been on the alert to look after
my many effects. How lovely it isl Greta
and I can do nothing but e1claim: "How
lovely; how delicious to be herep' Blue
violets everywhere of the pedate variety,
with yellow noses and web-footed leaves.
We turn away from the broad road and its
telegraph poles, and plunge into our familiar
woods.
That first drive over from Kingston in
early spring is the true beginning of the
delights at Matunuck. Delightful any
come burdened with the accumulated dis
agreeableness of winter in town. The
load falls at once. Dinners asd bores, re-
ceptions, Brownings, 1bsens, Margery
Flemings vanish with all the other oobwebs
of our mind, our heads feel happily empty,
ready to receive impressions from red bud
ding oak leaves, long tassels of birch,
volantes of fern stems just pushing up
alongside of cowslips yellow as butter,
wickedly and correctly named by the botan-
list marsh marigold Not only these things
now, but promises of moro to be, signs of a
full season of Kalmia, fat buds of Rhodo-
dendron, plants that are going to be tall
nodding lilies in July, and points Of
Arethusa sticking up in the wet, all sooa to
be in blossom.
The Reception at the House
There is a certain uncertainty about my
arrival at home in the spring. Only one
thing is true, and that is that things will be
entirely different each time, Write? Well,
I have written, from Tunis, from New York,
from Boston. They all know am coming.
Then of course everything will be ready9
Of course hope SO. But you know they
may be all dead. They never write. But
you see Joe was at the station, which was
encouraging. Joe keeps the keys through
the winter, and he had opened the house
and set the breeze and bright sunshine to
airing and warming it. Cold as Greenland,
by the way, on the 18th of May.
Greta jumped out of the wagon and took
the basket of provisions into the great big
empty house, while drove down the hill to
see if Louise would come up and ''do' for
me-that is the correct expression. Louise
lives in the little farmhouse at the foot Of
the hill She is splendid, but you canno.
always get her. Luckily Louise is in fine
frame of mind this year. "Well, I suppose
must, if you amt got mono else" she says,
and by the time I have reached home by the
driveway, to find Greta in front rejoicing in
the broad view of sea and sky, Louise has
arrived by short cut.
First Meal In the Country
A genial clatter of poker and stove lids
shows that Joe is making a fire in the
kitchen. In five minutes I have a good
blaze on the hearth in the Red Room, and
Greta brings in bunch of violets from the
bank. Unluokily we cannot find the keys
of the cellar or the doghouse, where all the
wood and kindlings are, but there is
enough here for the present. Thomas ].
has brought potatoes and Indian meal
Christie comes this moment with fresh eggs
and butter. Joe has set the milk for cream
before, and there was a large, thick porter
house steak in the basket.
That first meal at Matunuok Invariably
consisted Of a porterhouse steak, hot po-
tatoes and bread and butter. I bring the
steak from Boston, and if nobody should be
there to edo" for me should cook it my
self But somebody always is here. If not
Louise, it might be Cornelia Once it was
Jane. Besides, 1 can cook beefsteak,
though you might not think it. Is there
any salt left over from last year? Why,
certainly, and here is pepper, though the
pepper pot seems to be lost. We set the
table ourselves, Greta and I, in the Red
Room in front of our cracking fire, near
the south window, not to lose minute of
the view. By brilliant effort I remember
where hid the silver last autumn. Knives,
The Appetite Isn't Lacking.
After winter of hotels and tables d'hote,
at the mercy of 'patrons" and garcons, it is
a sudden change to be looking up my own
knives and forks. Delightful variety, the
spice of life. Now come the steak and DO
tatoes, smoking hot, and better than any
thing you ever tasted in your life. Louise
is coy on account of Greta and leaves them
cir IA ha ic fha
that accompanies the repast. You must
know that the water of our pond, fed from
springs, is more delicious than any other
Such meall Seven miles drive through
the woods supplies the appetite for it.
All this excitement of arrival and re-
freshment has taken up the afternoon, and
after this dinner we linger over our wood
fire, which requires constant attention. To
tell the truth, it smoked little at first, be-
cause we had not the right wood. But we
have better now. The keys are found.
Peter Larkin gave them to Franklin and
Franklin left them with William, but
William forgot to tell Louise. We saw the
sun go down beyond our western hill and
Its glow over the pond. The sun is setting
late now and it was soon dark and we were
very tired. So we went to bed at 7:30 by
daylight, although there was kerosene in the
The joy of ones own bed, after six months
away, is worth being away those six months
to enjoy.
Where the Country Home Il.
And now what is this Matunuck, I hope
you all want to know. Matunuck is the
home of the Hales, where they disport and
repose themselves after the fatigues of the
winter 1t is about seven miles from every
-A.a,,1 i Al sP Il.