The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-05-24

1t went the childish kiss verses and leaves
from the old, torn school book that told
you something to the effect that
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,
Eating her milk and pie;
There came a Dig spider
That sat down beside her,
And made little Miss Muffet cry"
When she had outgrown the story Of The
Wasp Net a Bee" had ceased to write such
maxims as Little strokes fell great oaks"
and no longer preserved pictures of cats
and dogs and other quadrupeds. there came
her sentimental age, when she pasted in
dustriously from the poets corner" giving
preference to love-sick sentiments. and even
mutilating her fathers Mrs. Hemans, Moore
or Byron in her search, for sympathetic
rhymes. Later on came the mildly friv-
olous OF fashion-loving stage, which evinced
itself in clippings descriptive of New York
or Paris gowns. with queer pictures Of the
styles as they then were. In run
ming through mothers old scrap-book
one comes across a paragraph on the
beauties and duties OF connubial felicity.
hints to housewives and advice on how TO
make the home beautiful. The prattle OF
babies-perhaps her own-you can hear as
you read instruction on the best treatment
Of teething infants. how. to cure the whoop-
ing cough or suggestions of quick relief for
choking or for your complaint when you
have swallowed papa's collar button. You
are growing up and you see yourself romp
ing over hedges, and bitches. and fields, and
streets as you read how bruises may be
healed, how you are to be treated when you
have fallen into the stream, and evidence
of the other worries you have brought 10
the parental mind. Now you are going TO
school. and there are hints as to your edu-
cation and essays on the professions. with
sage advice as to your future career. Gray
hairs have come to that loved head. and the
philosophical trend OF the maturer mind Is
seen in gems of thought, sermons and other
religious sentiments. But now the hands
are folded, the eyes are dimmed. and the
loved one has gone to her well-earned rest.
Other hands than hers have finished the
scrap-book, for there is the 'in memoriam''
poem. the death notice. and perhaps other
reminders of q void you would give your ali
to I'LL. Vale, dear old family scrap-book
Especially were you the pride OF the coun-
try home but, like other things rural, you
have gone to the limbo Of mundane matters
obsolete. 49,
This last remark has set me thinking of
the passing Of the country girl herself
She has gone, with her big. simple hat or
sun-bonnet, her plain print dress, common
sense shoes. transformations manners and
ignorance Of the world in general--of every
thing except her domestic duties. her
knowledge or the joys and troubles OF her
neighbors and a few other things, including
how to love and be loved in turn In her
place has come young woman as good In
every way as her predecessor of
the simple manners, but who cam
not be detected from her city-bred
sister. Whether her means be large
or small the ineradicable stamp Of fashion
Is upon her, the airs and graces of the draw
ing room she knows and has. the wand Of
higher education has transformed her mind,
| and her small talk, like the birds Of her
| fields. can soar far above the petty things
Of simple country life. The country girl has
laid aside her gawkiness with the milking
stool, and when she comes to town and
takes in" the theater not the tiniest speck
Of hayseed finds lodgment on the plush opera
| chairs. The conspiracies OF the modistes she
Is as familiar with as her sister Of Murray
HUI, and by her aid the village choir has
| come to be musically correct, If not always
as sweet and sincere as of old. She nc
longer ''romps" over ploughed fields, but
| trips dainttly'' down the country lane In
footgear unimpeachable. She knows the lat
| est things in literature. in fiction, at least,
and can tell you the gossip Of the theaters
for She Is a matinee girl with the best OF
them. Though not in the city she is of it to
all intents and purposes. All this has come
| forcibly to me during many visits to rural
communities of late. have been with the
| madding crowd so much that this evolution
| or, rather. revolution. OF the country girl
| came upon me ''all OF a sudden" was sur
prised to see in villages of one or two streets
a perfection of feminine attire that would
not be out Of place in the most fashionable
| promenade know.
| In this change the steam railroad. OF
course, has played conspicuous part, but
the trolley is still more largely responsible
for it. Small communities many miles apart
1t has brought into immediate neighboriy in
tercourse, and made them but as offshoots
Of the nearest great city. Those to whom q
visit to the next town may have been only
a weekly or monthly occurrence. and a trir
to the city something to be looked forward
to with longing and anxiety, now can and
do visit either or both of them every day
The farm house. to the windows OF which
came the whole family once a day tc
see the stage go Dy, now mas the trolley run
ming past its gate every hour or so in some
| communities. What this has resulted ir
| was well expressed to me by a lady in @
small Massachusetts, village recently BE.
fore the trolley came along here" said she
I'VE could work or sit around all day In
| comfortable wrappers, lounge for a sur
bath on the porch or walk down the country
road in the same attire without offending
the proprieties. Now we must stay dressed
up. since. because of the cheapness and
speed of the trolley, we never know the
moment caller may drop in. Neighbors
1 used to meet only once a week or SO
now see frequently. and we cannot ever
go to the doors without best bfbs and
fuckers on" So that the trolley while
flashing the way to refinement and higher
civilization. has killed many Of the que
joys of country life.
It is a tribute to woman's ability tC
catch on" that while the country girl ha.
been passing" her rural brother has In
many ways remained stationary. While she
has donned with ease the latest feminine
| attire, he locke just as country" as ever
In ''store clothes" Poets may continue &
sing of rustic SWANS. but OF the picturesque
milk maids-never more. The hayseed is In
his hair still-it has been combed out Of
hers. Why? FRANCIS j. O'NEILL-
rroucss VtIson,s I.itfre yoEe