172 



How shall a man in these new-fanglecl days, 



Go back to the pedestrian's homely waj^s ? 



Where is the five-mile Inn to greet his sight 



With promise of a home at noon and night? 



The Inns are out to-day — their day is o'er — 



That institution can return no more. 



KoU back the tide of time — and haply, then. 



You may get back the old Inn-life again. 



Where railroads come the inns must disappear; 



No man can stop to taste their homely cheer. 



The old time-colored house whose aged frame 



Leaned fondly to the earth from which it came, — 



That oldest settler that might seem to be 



Coeval with the soil and scenery — 



Is gone ; the pilgrim will behold no more 



The old stone fire-place and the sanded floor — 



Will hear no more the well-sweep's cheerful creak — 



No more the faded sign-board's rusty squeak — 



Nor "cloy the hungry edge of appetite" 



With berries, milk and brown bread morn and night, — 



'Tis gone with the old times and the old men, 



And could it, in this rushing age, again 



In its old place and ancient form appear, 



Its wayside welcome who could stay to hear? 



No, I do not forget what Solomon says 



To him who asks. Why were the former days 



Better than these — O grumbler ! he replies. 



Wilt thou the ways of Providence despise? 



Pur-blind Imidator acti teinporis ! 



Rise to a better, broader view than this ! 



AU things are moving towards a blessed goal, 



Descried afar by them of generous soul. 



The rumble of the steam-car seems to say : 



Make in the desert for the Lord a way ! ® 



Bring down that which is high — exalt the low — 



He to all flesh His wondrous works will show. 



Well, since accept we must both speed and steam. 

 Enough to live old times an hour in dream. 

 Be thankful for the Present and the Past, 

 Nor vainly sigh for that which could not last ; 



3 This thought is borrowed from a strikiug and sublime sonnet of Jones Very's. 



