The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1905-02-02
CHAPTER I.
OUR COMPLEX LIFE.

A n Mile YYonne is to be married
Tuesday, and today is friday
Callers loaded with gifts and trades.
men bending under packages come and
go in endless procession. The servants
nre at the end Of their endurance. As
for the family and the betrothed, they
no longer have life or a fixed abode.
Their mornings are spent with Dress
makers, milllners, upholsterers, jewell
ers, decorators and caterers. After
that comes q rush through Offices,
where one waits In line, gazing vague.
ly at busy clerks engulfed in papers
A fortunate thing If there be time
when this Is over to run home and
dress for the series OF ceremonial din.
ners - betrothal dinners, dinners OF
presentation, the settlement dinner-re-
ceptions, balls About midnight, home
again, harassed and weary, to find the
latest accumulation Of parcels and u
deluge of letters - congratulations, fe-
licitations, acceptanees and regrets
from bridesmaids and ushers, excuses
Of tardy tradesmen. And the contre-
temps Of the last mlnute--a sudden
death that dlsarranges the bridal par
ty, wretched cold that prevents a
favorite cantatrice from singing, and
80 forth, and 80 forth. Those poor
Blanchardsl They will never be ready
and they thought they had foreseen
everythlngl
Such has been their existence for a
month. No longer possible to breathe,
to rest half hour, to tranqullize ones
thoughts. No, this is not livingI
Mercifully, there is grandmother's
room. Grandmother is verging on
eighty. Through many tolls and much
suffering she has come to meet things
with the calm assurance which life
brings to men and women of high
thinking and large hearts, She sits
there In her armchair, enjoying the
silence OF long medltatlve hours. SO
the flood OF affairs surging through the
house ebbs at her door. At the thresh-
old OF this retreat voices are hushed
and footballs softened, and when tho
young tiances want to hide away for
a moment they fee to grandmother.
Poor childrenw is her greeting.
"You are worn out! Rest little and
belong to each other. All these things
count for nothing. Don't let them abb
sorb you; 1t isn't worth while"
They know 1t well, these two young
people, How many times in the last
weeks has their love had to make way
for all sorts of conventions and fulfill
tles Fate at this decisive moment of
their lives seems bent upon drawing
their minds away from the one thing
essential, to harry them with a host
of trivialities, and heartily do they ap-
prove the opinion of grandmamma
when she says, between smile and a
caress, Decidedly, my dear, the world
is growing too complex. and 1t does not
make people happier--qulte the con-
traryg'
also am Of grandmamma's opinion.
From the cradle to the grave, In his
needs as In his pleasures, In his con-
ception of the world and of himself,
the man of modern times struggles
through maze of endless compliea-
ton. Nothing is simple any longer
neither thought nor action; not pleas
ure; not even dying. With our own
hands we have added to existence a
train Of hardships and Topped off many
qualification. believe that thou
sands Of our fellow men. suffering the
consequences of too artificial life,
will be grateful IL we try to give ex-
preston to their discomfort and to JUS
tify the regret for naturalness which
vaguely oppresses them.
Let us first speak of series of facts
that put into relief the truth we wish
to show.
The complexity of our life appears In
the number of our material needs. 1t
Is fact universally conceded that our
needs have grown with our resources.
This is not an evil In itself, for the
birth of certain needs is often the mark
of progress. To feel the necessity of
bathing, of wearing fresh linen, inhab.
iting wholesome houses, eating health
full food and cultivating our minds Is |
n sign of superiority. But If certain |
needs exist by right and are desirable |
there are others whose effects are ia
tai which, like parasites live at our ex-
pense Numerous and imperlous, they
engross us completely.
Gould our fathers have foreseen that
we should some day have at our dis
posal the means and forces we now
use in sustaining and defending our
material life, they would have predict
ed for us an increase of independence,
and therefore of happiness, and a de-
crease in competition for worldly goods.
They might even have thought that
through the simpllacation of life thus
made possible o higher degree of mo-
rality would be attained. None of
these things has come to pass; neither
happiness nor brotherly love nor power |
for good has been increased. In the |
first place, do you think your fellow
citizens, taken as a whole, are more
contented than their forefathers and |
less anxious about the future2 do
not ask If they should find reason to be |
so, but If they really are 80. To see
them live 1t seems to me that a majori-
ty of them are discontented with their
lot and, above all, absorbed In material
needs and beset with cares for the NOR
row. Never has the question of food /
and shelter been sharper or more abb
sorblng than since we are better nour-
ished, better clothed and better housed
than ever. He errs greatly who thinks
that the query, "What shall we eat
and what shall we drink and where
withal shall we be clothedT presents
itself to the poor alone, exposed as they
are to the anguish of morrows without
bread or a roof. With them the ques-
tion is natural and yet 1t is with them
that 1t presents itself most simply.
You must go among those who are be-
ginning to enjoy little ease TO learn