New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1903-09-06

up to old Phillips Academy every Monday
morning. Perhaps they tramped home Of
Saturday.
There is a through line Of trolley cars from
Boston to Andover now. spur OF this line runs
into my old village, almost to the door Of the
homestead. The stagecoach is no more, for
You can make the five miles to the town where
it started in twenty minutes by trolley, and go
every half hour. In thirty minutes you can
be in Andover. The town to the south is the
cheap, noisy centre Of seven trolley lines; An
dover is the centre of three-stately, elm
/ crowned AndOver, where they made intellectual
history for a century, OF course, the result Of
this is not only the influx daily Of a cheap
trashy class Of people. on cheap trolley excur-
sions, but it is also a change in the character
Of the village itself. The young people go off
. 10 neighboring towns nightly. to sO-called band
concerts" that are in reality one Of the most
coarsening institutions in suburban New-Eng-
land. consisting in the parade about the town
common Of young men and women. intent on
the game Of chance acquaintance. The name Of
/ the town is on the cars. and gradually, as the
older Inhabitants die off, their places Will be
taken by q poor class Of people, who can come
out into such decayed village and get a house
cheap. going to work by trolley. Already the
village forums no more, and a pathetic
sophistiCatiOn Is the dominant village note,
pathetic because the trolley at best can connect
the inhabitants only with the backyard of ur-
banity. Vulgarity is slowly but surely spread
ing alike over the landscape, the village arehi-
tecture lin the shape Of 'citifed' houses. and
the people"
AN OLD HOME WEEK PICNIC.
Joshua Abbott paused to fill and light pipe.
We had a grand village picnic on the chief
day Of Old Home Week" he said. presently.
II :.
would be. for there is nothing harder in social
intercourse than meeting years after the men
you used to play with when boys. You shake
hands. you ask What are you doing now? and
then you both stand in awkward silence, keenly
conscious that you have nothing more to say,
aware Of the great chasm the years have put
between your lives. 1t is little easer with the
girls But l went, and greeted my innumerable
distant relatives and watched the village Teop,e
who had stayed at home talk with those who
had gone into the world and come back
for this old Home Week. There were Of the
former. Of course many an o,dtime- with the
Yankee beard and the Yankee Wit and the
Yankee twang Of speech. and. above all. the
grand old Yankee simplicity Of greeting, sim
plicity born Of its possessors utter faith in his
way Of life. his own individuality. But among
the younger stay-at-horne, the younger the more
pronounced, were affectations Of manner, the
dress Of the towns, the faint Of sophis,ication,
the attempt 10 be something other than they
were. A Philadelphia band of capitalists is
richer by some score thousands Of nIcke.s fcr
that result!
At least I told myself, 1 may 80 down to
the old swimming hole and dive into the black
pool under the bank. and call up memories vi
the cool shock So l vent of by myself my
body tNitching to be out Of clothes. with peas
ant eXpectations.'
''WeI?" said his roommate.
Well the swimming pool was no more re-
sumed the other. There was poo there, hali
choBed Up with a fallen willow. but the trolley
line. too heavy to cross the Old bridge upstream,
went directly over one end Of the pool on huge
piles No swimming there, for man or boy. I
looked al the dear old boyhood spot long
time made a sour jest AZ my sentmentality. and
returned with dry hair TO the picnic. Old Dea-
con Campbell was wandering about the out
skirts OF the grove.
Deacon said l. where's the swimming hoe
nowg
II don't reckon there be any said he. The
col durn trolley spilled the pool. and the milLpond
amt no good since the mil wuz tore down and
the dam bust Up. The little feIers may get
their feet wet in the bend By Suas Fiints. be-
hind the bushes. but We old fe,lers have TO wash
i'm the kitchen. same as in winter.
But where do the bows SWIM asked.
- presume likely they go to Lynn Beach /
said the deacon. I see EN- ridin off in the cars