551 



PARADISE IN THE COUNTRY. 



the globe's surface to yourself, and room 

 enough to scream, let oifchanipagno-corks, 

 or throw stones, without disturbance to your 

 neighbor. The intense yearning for this 

 degree of liberty has led some seekers after 

 the pastoral ratlier farther into the wilder- 

 ness than was necessary ; and while writing 

 on the subject of a selection of rural sites, 

 it is worth while, perhaps, to specify the de- 

 sirable degree of neighborhood. 



In your own person, probably, you do not 

 combine blacksmith, carpenter, tinman, gro- 

 cer, apothecary, wet-nurse, dry-nurse, wash- 

 erwoman, and doctor. Shoes and clothes 

 can wait your convenience for mending; 

 but the little necessities supplied by the 

 above list of vocations are rather impera- 

 tive, and they can only be ministered to in 

 any degree of coniforlable perfection, by a 

 village of at least a thousand inhabitants. 

 Two or three miles is far enough to send 

 your horse to be shod, and far enough to 

 send for doctor of washerAvoman, and half 

 the distance would be better, if there was 

 no prospect of tlie extension of the village 

 limits. But the common diameter of idle 

 boys' rambles is a mile out of the village, 

 and to be just beyond that is very necessa- 

 ry, if you care for plums and apples. The 

 church bell should be within hearing, 

 and it is mellowed deliciously by a mile or 

 two of hill and dale, and your wife will 

 probably belong to a "sewing-circle," to 

 which it is very much for her health to 

 walk, especially if the horse is wanted for 

 plowing. This suggests to me another 

 point which I had nearly overlooked. 



The farmer pretends to no " gentility ;" I 

 may be permitted to say, therefore, that 

 neighbors are a luxury, both expensive and 

 inconvenient. The necessity you feel for 

 society, of course, will modify very much 

 the just-stated considerations on the subject 

 of vicinage. He who has lived only in 

 towns, or passed his life (as travellers do) 

 cnly as a receiver of hospitatity, is little 

 aware of the difference between a country 

 and city call, or betAveen receiving a visit 

 and paying one. In town, " not at home," 

 in any of its shapes, is a great preserA-^er of 

 personal libert}', and gives no offence. In 

 the country, you are " at home," loill-yoy, 

 nill-you. As a stranger paying a visit. 



, you choose the time most convenient to 

 I yourself, and abridge the call at jileasure. 

 I In your own liousc, the visiter may find you 

 j at a very inconvenient hour, stay a very in- 

 j convenient time, and as you have no liberly 

 I to deny yourself at your country door, it jnay 

 j (or may not, I say, according to your taste) 

 i be a considerable evil. This point should 

 I be Avell settled, however, before you deter- 

 I mine your distance from a closely-settled 

 i neighborhood, for many a man would rather 

 send his horse two miles farther to be shod 

 I than live Avithin the convenience of " socia- 

 ble neighbors," A resident in a city, by- 

 I the-way (and it is a point Avhich should be 

 kept in mind by the retiring metrojiolitan) 

 has, properly speaking, no neighbors. He 

 has friends, chosen or made by similarity of 

 pursuit, congeniality of taste, or accident, 

 which might have been left unimproved. 

 His literal neighbors he knows by name — if 

 they keep a brass plate, but they are con- 

 tented to know as little of him, and the ac- 

 quaintance ends, Avithout offence, in the 

 perusal of the name and number on the 

 door. In the city you pick your friends. In 

 the country you "take them in the lump." 

 True, country neighbors are almost al- 

 Avays desirable acquaintances — simple in 

 their habits, and pure in their morals and 

 conversation. But this letter is addressed 

 to men retiring from the Avorld, who look 

 forward to the undisturbed enjoyment of 

 trees and fields, avIio expect life to be filled 

 up with the enjoyment of deAV at morn, shade 

 at noon, and the glory of sunset and star- 

 light, and Avho consider the complete repose 

 of the articulating organs, and release from 

 oppressive and unmeaning social observan- 

 ces, as the fruition of Paradise. To men 

 who have experience or philosophy enough 

 to have reduced life to this, I should recom- 

 mend a distance of five miles from any vil- 

 lage or any family with groAvn-up daugh- 

 ters. In my character of dollar, I may be 

 forgiven for remarking, also, that this de- 

 gree of seclusion doubles an income (by 

 enabling a man to live on half of it), and so 

 freeing the mind from the care of pelf, re- 

 moves the very gravest of the obstacles to 

 happiness. I refer to no saving Avhich in- 

 fringes on comfort. The housekeeper Avho 

 caters for her OAvn familv in an unvisited 



