The commercial. (Union City, Tenn.) 190?-193?, 1920-05-21


much wealth is not good for a land
and that the highest calling is that
of a peasant or farmer, strikes re-
sponsive note in all Of US when he
says:
Ill fares the land to fastening ills a
prey
Where wealth accumulates and
men decay,
Princes and lords may flourish, or
may fade;
A breath can make them, as a
breath has made:
But bold peasantry, their country's
pride
When once destroyed can never be
supplied.
Rober Burns, Scotland's famous
poet, was born, reared, and spent the
greater part of his days working,
living and singing among the peas
ants of that country. Until he came
the life of a Scottish peasant was
considered a low and insignificant
one. But through his matchless
poems he raises to a higher plane
the estimation of such a life, and
what he has done for the Scottish
farmer he has done for the farmers
of the entire world. We see him as
he plows up the field-mouse's home,
quite unintentionally, and then sits
down to compose the poem, ITO
Mouse" Again, on another occasion,
while blowing, he ''has broken Ma
lures social union" and gives us
gem in, "To a Mountain Daisy"
Burns, like Goldsmith knew the val
ue of bold peasantry to the security
of his country, for in "The Cotter's
Saturday Night" he tells us that:
From scenes like these old Scotia's
grandeur springs,
That makes her loved at home,
revered abroad:
Princes and lords are but the breath
of kings,
AN honest mans the noblest
work of God.
Are you lonely? Are you sad? Are
you discouraged? Do you tire of the
association of faithless men? Then
Ego forth under the open sky, and
list to Natures teachings. Leave
the crowded haunts of heartless man,
and take the wings of morning,
pierce the barcan wilderness, or lose
myself in the continuous woods
where rolls the Oregon, and hears no
sound save his own dashings," and
there pour out your tale of burden
some woe while nature listens with
attentive ear, then heals your wounds
with her delicious balm of-but
should tell you her secret? No.
But go yourself and be healed, and
you too may return leaping and
shouting, singing praises to her won
derful yet simple remedy. Or are
you only DESTROYS of life of soli-
tude? Do you wish to spend your
life unmolested, in serene content
ment? Then go back to nature, for
says Alexander Pope:
Happy the man, whose wish and
care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields
with bread,
Whose fiocks supply him with
attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him
shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcernedly find |
Hours, days and years, slide soft
away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd, sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does
please with meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not stone
Tell where lie.
Let us close this second part of
our paper with a quotation from one
Of the great teachers of the ancient
East. Zoroaster, the founder of the
widely renowned wisdom of the Magi,
on one occasion said:
HE who sows the ground with
care and diligence acquires greater
stock of religious merit than he
could gain by the repetition of ten