The daily sentinel., 1900-07-02
, OLD COUNTRY TOWN.
1T HAS GIVEN WAY WITH OTHER
OLD-FASHIONED THINGS
To the Rapid March of Progress and
tho Old Scenes of RustIcity No
Longer Exist Even the Church
Affected. q

Like SO many other old-fashioned
things, the country town is going down
before the march of progress. Nothing
is like it used to be. The city man
who has been travelling by rail for
generation or SO is in his meanderings
in these present days impressed by the
change. He notices the passing of the
country town as he whirls across the
land. Invention, discovery and edu-
cation Of the people up to taste in
better things and ambition for con-
veniences are what have led to the
change. The traveller of today sees
the village maiden arrayed in shirt
waist that would come near taking
first place in a procession in the main
cities. The villagers trousers are
worn over russet shoes instead of be-
ing tucked in cowhide boots. The
abundantly If not artistically carved
boxes no longer stand in front OF
stores, ready lounging places for the
discussion of the worlds events. No
sign extends across the main street
near the tracks cautioning the people
to Beware of the locomotive" Mod
ern gates are let down to prevent col
lisions between trains and teams. NO
tin-started constable in overalls swells
about the station platform any longer.
A uniformed marshal, every bit as i'm
portant, struts there to meet all trains.
The old inn, with its slanting porch
extending over the sidewalk, supported
by posts off which country horses have
long been dining, has given way to
hotel with some humming name i'm
ported from some metropolis. Lamp
posts adorn the corners and the mer-
chants display their wares behind
plate-glass windows. All these the
traveller sees-signs of progress-a
great difference to the passing eye.
Twenty years, even ten years. ago
the village store was the spot where
ali the earth centered. In the winter
time the prominent citizens sat around
an abundantly provided stove. Mes
sengers boarded the passing trains.
pumped the passengers for news, man
aged to pick up any kind of an old
paper and hurried back to the store
to tell the tidings and to join in their
discussion. Between arguments the
debaters nipped at dried peaches and
other delicacies from the hospitable
barrel of the storekeeper. who made
up on the customer by manipulating
the scales the next purchase. A
stranger in the town was an oracle.
reverenced and respected. He had the
best seat near the stove and the towns
men nursed their knees in their arms
as they drank in from him his re-
Deitals of affairs in the rest of the
world. Then there was the town hall,
with its spelling bees, its occasional
lecture or its debate.
In the summer the wise men took
to the boxes in front of the store. or
to the hitching rail, on which they
poised, and talked and whitfield"
They were out in their shirtsleeves be-
fore breakfast to learn what had hap
pened during the night. Then they
strolled over to the old frame station
to see the train go by. How different
now is the matter of acquiring in
formation. 1t is poor town, indeed,
that hasn't its own paper to record.
and brightly, too. the local happen
ings. And as the trains go by they
drop of bundles of papers, fresh with
all the news of the earth. all the latest
periodicals, illustrated papers and the
newest books.
Ten years ago the country clothing
store. which was also the hardware
store and the dry goods store and the
grocery store and the millinery es-
taoiishment all in one-a bucolic trust
made speciality of readymade suits.
tnat were SO tightly packed away on
the shelves that you couldn't get the
creases out of them any more than
you could get the wrinkles out of a
iron roof. And what WON
derful patterns and styles. Now in
front of the clothing store Chauncey
Depew and Mark Hanna and Gen.
Miles and Admiral Schley and George
Dewey, all in wax, stand in all the
glory of blue serge and oorkscrew, with
double breasted and bewildering vests
and a crease down their trousers legs.
The shoe store is in the next block,
the milliner is across the way with
fascinating display of daily hints from
Paris, the hardware man is in busi-
ness for himself over next to the brew
cry, and the grocer occupies the mod
ern store-room under the office of the
evening. Tell-Tale, the rattle OF
whose linotypes makes merry race
20 ,ir,,