The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1905-06-18

but somehow Mr.. James Whitcomb
Riley's line keeps ringing through
your brain: "June's here and I'm to
spare"
OF course there's work needed.
You know how the closets and floors
and windows look. You have, for
some time. been haunted by the fear
of moths there's no telling where
their depredations will end. The
creatures are no respecter of eccleslas-
teal property and may decide to FEED
on the parsonage blankets. If you had
the strength you ought, like Prue, to
be mending "adolescent pants. Then
the baby is large enough to be put in
short clothes and by all means, you
should be about the business OF get
ting them ready for her.
You can imagine that If William
Wordsworth. peace to his ashes
should come into this parsonage he
might be ready TO say of its mistress as
he once said of another lady
but her education had been most un-
fortunate. (This sentence has been
garbled purposely. He began 1t with
the statement that the lady In ques-
ton had been handsome in youth,
but. She was totally ignorant OF
housewifery, and could as easily nave
managed the spear of Minerva as her
needle"
In spite of the look of things, you
could afford to smile with a superior
and indulgent air at such remarks, for
deep down in the heart of you there
rests a safe and steadfast conscious
ness that you are an adept-at patch
ing And IL there should come time
when Macon county goes wild and has
a fair, you are morally sure that you
would get a premium for your needle
work, not, 1t may be. for thing so
lacking i'm unitarian beauty as
crazy-work quilt. but for your skill in
mending boys trousers.
But leaving the ability to manage
your needle out of the question. there
Is now such little strength given you
wherewith to WELD that needle, you
make up your mind that you'll have
to let these things go; and lying back
I'm an easy chair on the front porch
of the parsonage, you look out on
Summer Hill with its glory of green
ness. and inwardly mnrmur: "Sdne's
here and I'm to spare"
You lazily watch the splendid oak
in the corner of the yard. There's
a strong breeze this morning and the
leaves are in constant motion. You
think of these blessed things about
you: the mountains, the hills, the
green lawns and fields. the trees. the
whey air, and again you think of Mr.
Riley: I'D ruther lay out here 'mong
the trees than to be up thar in the
city
Think of being in a city. shut up in
some dusty office doing the worlds
work, while there is room out here
for men to come for rest, though ii
were only for day.
"To one who has been long in city
pent,
IT'S very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven. to breathe
prayer
Fun in the smile of the blue firma
ment.'
eff you want to find a thing we'll
said. go to Keats" you think, as the
long-remembered lines glide through
your mind, that is. what mind you
have left.
This June day is not conducive to
mind; you really do not feel that it's
worth while to try to think. You lie
back in a luxury of indifference. If q
stray thought should come your way
you might give it a moments lodg-
ment, but as for positive effort, it is
an absurdity in the face of this perfect
beauty and restfulness of which You
cannot rightly speak in ever so strong
and ambitious an hour.
Your mental makeup is but giving
itself what a friend would call "a
stretching" 1t is easing itself of
thousand little worries that have mag
nified themselves during months OF
indoor life 1t is surely adjusting itself
to the beauty and rhythm of these
fair sights and sounds.
You think of Hawthorne's story and
wonder if it could be possible to Look
on this lovely scene, the little valley
and the understanding mountains,
without undergoing, day by day, an
oh rd hott at
such as the Great Stone Face brought
about
Will not some of the calm of ma
lures summer mood pass into the re-
ceptive soul? Will not a part of this
beauty become SO incorporated into
the very wool of your being that you
will carry about you, for days. the
freshness and sweetness of June $
verdancy, of June's sunlight and soft
hued skies?
Summer Hill? Why Summer Hill?
Years ago the owner who must have
had the soul of poet and the hand
of a philanthropist, kept the hill as a
pleasure ground. There was sum-
mer house built on its crest. Adown
its sides the roses bloomed. Little
children played there and lovers
walked there.
Thus it won its name. And when
the inevitable railroad shall come,
bringing its dust and hustle. IT'S
clangor of hideous noises and its few
cred unrest, the descendants of this
old-time gentleman should see to ii
that the town is provided with its
park; and instead of q big hotel
browning the hill, there should aga'n
be a summer house there, vine-clad
and redolent of flowers, while trees
and grass and roses shall keep fresh
the memory of a golden hearted gen.
tleman.
Then again shall Summer Hill be
gathering place for children and low
ers. while the crest. with its pine and
surroundings oaks shall look calmly
down on the bustling valley with it's
eager workers, and the summer breeze
signing through the leaves viii surely
whisner: flush, hushi Come up and
rest"
Dear Mother Nature, how softly
does she soothe US! Tender and pa
tient she is. but always does she win
US to a higher mood.
When you first came out into the
glow of the morning your spirits
1aI 81, dxr