The independent., 1907-04-11
Village Life.


and less experience. They do not swag-
ger in the fields in a registering fash
ion and shout for slugs. Nor do they
disturb the peaceful country with un-
seemly chickering's They sit at home
all day and attend to domestic matters,
There philosophiZing on the vanity OF
the pursuits of birds in general. Then,
in the eventide when the earth is
calm and the air cool, they take silent
and solitary flights, pick up field mice
or something light for supper, and,
returning to their comfortable roost
again with a sound digestion, from the
depths of their warm chests they call
in measured cadence to their neigh
bors, and send up mellow anthems to
the moon. We love the owl, and record
our admiration of him here( for, mark
you, he is not always to be met with.
We have watched for him in seques
tered places as astronomers watch for
comets. We have followed him to his
dim retreats and waited patiently for
his coming out, as some folk wait and
watch to see a great man leave his
house.
Our village was a grand place for
owls. 1t was none Of the neW-fangled
watering places, with villas, semi-de-
tached cottages and such heather edi-
fees. There were no patent palings
there, no paving g-stones, no fashionable
promenade Policemen with helmets
and truncheons, plate glass and stuc-
coed fronts were utterly unknown, and
the commissioners Of sewers were
looked upon as myths, or at least at
all events as remote from the interests
of the villagers as the politics of Tim
buctoo. The shrieking rattle of the Red
Repuhlican-the railway-had never
disturbed the peace Of our village. 1t
was waif which the march of time
had left untouched with all its vener-
able beauties clustering round it. And
in these days when the schoolmaSter is
abroad with a birch as we'll as a book; /;
when the ruthless hand of the destroy
er is shaking the sands in the hour
glass of the relics of the past; when
shops and streets spring up like mush-
rooms from the ruins of the quaint, old
| houses of our sires; when the eccentri-
| cities Of the age are shaping them
| selves in the eyer-hungering metropolis
! of trusts, the rascality of political
| grafters; when young England, clothed
| in motley, performs a pantomine and
! shakes his cap and bells at his vener-
able parent, who stands by dyspeptic
and disconsoidte; iii these days, we say,
| it is pleasant to leave the seething so
cial caldron bubbling in the distance, to
| get away from the binding dust and
the roaring din, sto find some green
oasis by the palm-tree wells-a little
knot Of persons who care not to wres-
| tie in the march of life, who love to
/ dwell among their flocks and herds and
4 smoke the pipe of peace at their own
4 tent door, as the patriarchs of old.
/ our village inns were long, strag-
/ Cling buildings, with sign-boards that
| swung on poles; our houses were
rooted with thatch and fitted up with
/ little cabin-looking windows, which
/ blinked drowsily on the passer-by. The
\ rooms were constructed of all shapes,
or rather of no shape at all; floors and
/ ceilings were generally iuclined planes.
! You encountered mysterious-looAing
/ cupboards and closets in the most un-
likely situations, and rs for getting up
\ stairs, he was bold man who would
attempt the feat without steady foot
and a watchful eye.
Our architectural structures and
beauties were not numerous. consisting
principally Of the parish church--a fine
old building. nanked by three vencr-
able mansions, just crumbled and
] tiAtHhu u fDfh lNhAs'A
tie. The people in general partook OF
! the character of the village. They
logged steadily along the old paths. a
their fathers had done before them
not turning aside TO pursue marsh
Ares and wandering metcors. They
counted no latter day saints among
thsiT number. and Il ~aa seldom In
deed. that any one embraced the idea
of emigration. Homeopathy had never
dawned upon their minds. and iis won'
derful globulea and more wonderful
theory. and the water-cure and mes.
mcrism had not then been dreamed ot