Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1908-06-24
by Joseph 5. Bowles.)

Copyright, by
Pulling Up Stakes
We had been in the country close on
to two years. Straight from the heart
of city to the seclusion of a farm
There could have been no more vivid
contrast; no more radical change. We
had gone from the clang of gongs, the
tolling of bells, the shrek of locomo-
tives, the blare of brass bands, the
doleful piping of corner bands, the
cries of newsboys, and the oboe honk
of the automobile horn to the piping
of crickets and the mathis of thrush
and robin, the warbling of bluebirds
and orchard orioles.
We had been thoroughly forgotten
by our friends in the city, and had
stepped tacitly to an unrecognized
place in the human procession where
there was no possibility of our being
numbered with those who are sup.
posed to lead "the strenuous life "
Society, so-called, was merely an alb
straction; we were like those who
have been lodged on some secure
shelf on cliff where they could see
the flood go by while they watched
and waited. Two years before we had
been of that clamorous and unref1ec-
tive mob. We had never lived for
the days as they came, but always
reached out for some reckoning to-
morrow. We had yearned for repose,
but the everyday grind of trivialities
had burned up our time and eaten
away our vitalities.
1nsensibly, in the city, we had
learned the lesson of imitation. For
however men and women hold fast to
their individuality, a constant attri-
ton of numbers of their kind will
wear them to certain extent alike,
as all pebbles are worn smooth by
the waters action. Custom, custom,
how that artful tyrant COWS even the
boldest How many jeans-clad con-
gresham succumbs at last to the
Simian contour of the dress suit! The
| days are very much alike in a city;
always the frame presents the identi-
cal grays and blacks, the hard, bald
finish of metropolitanism.
The happiest natured take their
pleasures sadly there. The Mephis-
topheles of cynicism mocks them with
| the old refrain, Eat, drink, and be
merry, for tomorrow you die" The
young grow old too fast; and the old
grow hardened rapidly. As in certain
chemicals all things harden to petri-
faction, so the steady immersion of a
man or woman in city leads to the
deadening of the sensibilities. Apart
ment life! Was there ever anything
more artificial? Apartment life is
more than ordinarily similar in the
penitentiaries and the modern flats.
| But to live on a farm? How can
you live on farm and not vegetate
or. 60 crazy? Nine miles from a
lemon! What a shuddery thought!
And yet remote as we were from the
city, there was sadness in the eyes
of the friends who at rare intervals
came to see us. How quickly the
crows feet seemed to creep about the
eyes of men whom had expected to
see buoyant and hopeful as in bygone
days. What was that tiresome re-
frain I had preached to me so often
We're getting Old Who's getting
old? Speak for yourself john Yes
hey do grow old in cities, and the
fountain of Ponce de Leon will never
spout from a public square,
Is 1t worth mans while to grow
old? doubt it! Rarely, in city
even, you will find man who has
steadily refused to give in to the
years; but l believe you will always
find, on investigation, that this man
has renewed his youth from the fields
and woods. Age is a chilling of the
heart, not whitening of the tresses.
Never. my heart wilt thou grow old;
My hair is white, my blood turns cold,
And one by one my powers depart
But youth sits smiling in my heart
But the spirit of youth is just as ap
parent in the mind as in the body
and you cannot preserve a youthful
ness of spirit by communing with thu
beasts of the fielo, nor by turning
hermit; nor even by having those
near you who are dearest to you. I'm
less one is serenely ox-like in one:
disposition, the stage, music, litera
ture, sculpture, war, peace, strife, in 3
word-life-will always hold an at
traction which keeps the mind alert tt
the changes which are going on, anG
which, by giving the brain it's needed
exercise, keeps elastic and vibrant the
tissues of the mind.
A plunge in river invigorates the
body, dusty and inert from toll and
waste of bodily energy. A dip in q
new book, mingling for a short
space in crowd, night at the sae
alter, an afternoon at a concert, even
a gay supper at some brilliantly light
ed and music-stirred cafe will send
the dull blood spinning through the
veins, and drive away perplexine
thoughts of time and mortality.
But there amid those wide fields
surrounded by hills and forests, there
was the touch of peace, and there
was also the lethean menace of Mir
vana. The march of the seasons was
one lingering panorama of green and
gold, or dusty scarlet and barbaric
splendor. Each dawn was vision
each sunset revelation. The starry
|
their quiet splendor than all the
poems of mythology; and yet, and
yet!