Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1951-10-05

men who were our predecessors.
Near the middle of the last century,
one of these Hollenbecks (for such
was the name of the sturdy family
which tenanted this homestead) de-
serted the pillow for life of seafar-
ing. When he was an old man, and
had voyaged to every quarter of
the globe, he came back to this
house to exc out living by mend
ing stone walls.
So much for the house. It is like
that tattered sampler in the hay
loft of our barn which reads, Sweet
Rest in Heaven" and like the
crooked path that untold thousands
of footsteps have worn through the
clover field to our well - link
with the simple, earthly lives of
those good souls who are vanished.
In every direction, as I look from
my windows, are the green wooded
hills, untenanted by living man.
They lie-these carved and nodded
masses of rugged earth-brooding
in an ageless silence, baking their
hummocked backs in the hot sum-
mer sun, shouldering the cold white
weight of countless SHOWS, existing
eternal while the oaks and frs upon
their slopes wither and die, and are
born and live again through the
passage of seasons.
My friends who speak of 'loneli-
ness ard isolation" take no heed
of the deep companionship of trees
and rocks. Yet it is easy to discover,
in lichen-covered boulders and in
the cool smooth trunks of naples or
the rough, fragrant trunks of frs,
an essence of being with which it is
very easy for a man to commune.
These high hemlocks are my fell
lows upon earth; together we face
the elements, together struggle for
sustenance, together are set upon
by plaques and pestilences, together
will return, when we die, to the
eternal embracing earth of this
planet. And it is possible for me to
walk upon the black leaf mold in
which these hemlocks have their
roots and to draw from that contact
profound tranquility of spirit.
This relaxed contentment is far
better antidote for turmoil and
vexation than my city friends can
possibly receive in the diversions
afforded them by the movies, the
theater, the radio or television-ot
which they deplore my lack.
THIS COUNTRY life of mine, far
from being barren of things to
do and see, is crowded from day.
break until nightfall. My personal
routine Of eating, working, sleep
ing, and performing chores is suf-
ficiently simple. But the details of
the lives that surround mine and
demand my attention-the lives of
chipmunks and phoebes and wood
chucks and of the very buttercups
that grow profusely in our pasture
are so vastly absorbing as to re-
quire all my hours. 1t is inconceiv-
able that I could possibly be
bored" even if had nothing
more to occupy me than the con-
temptation Of the meadow upon
which I look out as l write this.
In such a rural district as that in
which live, neurosis is impossible.
That sickly turning inward" which
makes wretches of city victims has
no opportunity to enter here. ALI
mans thought and energy and time
are taken here, as they were in the
beginning, in a constant coping
with the problems presented by the
earth and the elements. And living
thus in daily contemplation of the
vast swing and surge of the eternal
cosmic machinery, mans minor
woes assume an utter insignificance.