The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1917-12-04
FINDING YOUR COUNTRY HOME
By NOBLE FOSTER JACOBSON President, Hoggson Brothers, Builders

his wife loved him very, very much, and she vowed that she would save him from himself. And through the long winter nights she thought and thought and planned and, late in the spring, when she went away to the country she knew exactly what she was going to do.
 You may be sure that the tired business man was getting crosser and crosser and more irritable and 1mpa- tient than ever before, but for some reason when his wife went to the country this time he became very l lonesome. And then, as fall came on this happened: One Saturday morning he received a telegram. The message contained a gentle reminder that he could get train for the country at 1:15. Then there ensued much ex- citement as his entire office force stopped everything else to assist him to get away. Tired business men are | usually helpless in cases of. this kind. The day had been cold. and dread. An earnest wind drove the cold, misty | rain across the valley and shook the gorgeous autumn foliage on the wood ed slopes until crimson, and green, and gold blended in exquisite har- mony. It was wonderful picture. Forlorn, and apparently forsaken, the little railway station stood on a desert island in a shallow sea of mud dy water, and the pair of rain-soaked horses hitched to a solitary carriage, gave an added touch to the scene of desolation by their dropping heads and tightly held tails. Sitting com fortably within the carriage, with cur tains drawn tight, the wife of the tired business man waited for him pa- tiently.
 i ''So this is the country he teased after an affectionate greeting. but she only smiled as the horses began their seven-mile journey along the old fa- | miliar winding road.
 | As the day drew toward close and the gray shadows deepened. the sun, as if in reparation for it's absence, | suddenly sent a shaft of warm, glor- ious, golden light from the western sky, and walked the world for mo- menti into a garden of rich and won drous color. The curving brook, re- flecting on its slowly moving surface the deep grays and the deeper pur- pies of the evening sky, or the gor- geous raiment of the overhanging ma pies, led the way beside the road to an old Colonial home settled down under the great hill. and when turn in the road brought the simple house into view, as a ray of the setting sun shone full upon it, there seemed to radiate from 1t note of welcome and Of peace and quiet.
 The tired business man actually gasped at the beauty of it all and in his eyes his wife saw a light sparkle that had been missing for years. In his excited interest he grasped her hand and held to it tightly.
 What is that thing of Van Dykes you used to quote?" he asked. "1 be- lieve I can appreciate 1t better now
 "On the other side of the river nestling among the trees. is the low white manor-house, An ancient home of peace.' It is place where one who has been wearied and, per chance, sore wounded in the battle o1 life might well desire to be carried as Arthur to the island valley of Avil . ion, for rest and healing" she smil ingly responded.
 That expresses it exactly" he said s'It is a beautiful thought"
 The old house had first reared it wide gables in the soft shade of th' sugar naples far back in days be